My smile widened. “Definitely. I need to practice if I’m ever going to beat you.”
He let out a short laugh, the first since I’d met him. “You have your work cut out for you.” He helped pick up the pieces, placing his in the box and holding it out to me. I reached over to drop mine in and my fingers brushed his hand.
Cold sickness assailed me. My heart fluttered, and my skin felt like there were cold wet things crawling over it. I shuddered and leaned back as sweat broke out on my upper lip and blackness swam before my eyes. Taking a gulp of air, I braced my hand on the edge of the table and fought off the faintness threatening to swallow me.
“Are you unwell?” Desmund’s voice sounded worried, and he reached for me.
“I’m fine!” I managed to stand before he could touch me. If this horrible attack was from a brief touch, I did not want to know what longer contact would do. He seemed oblivious to the real reason for my distress, and I didn’t want to alarm him. I gave him a shaky smile. “I probably shouldn’t have skipped dinner.”
His brow furrowed. “I can have food brought up for you if you wish.”
“Thanks, but I can grab a muffin from the dining hall on my way.” He did not look convinced. “I’m okay, really.”
He stood and followed me to the door. “You still look pale. Are you quite certain you don’t want to sit and rest a little?”
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m starting to feel better already.” It was partially true; my body was already recovering from the strange illness even though I was still a bit shaken up. “I’ll see you again soon.”
I slipped out of the library and hurried toward the stairs. What the hell was that? The Mohiri had no special powers – unless they were some kind of half breed like me – but I’d definitely sensed something off when I touched him. Was he something more than a Mohiri, or could this have to do with his illness? I needed to ask Tristan about it as soon as I saw him again. If Desmund was dangerous, it wouldn’t be smart to spend time alone with him. It didn’t make sense because Tristan had urged me to get to know Desmund. I found myself hoping I was overreacting, because Tristan had been right; I did like Desmund once I got to know him.
Chapter 5
“I HEAR THERE was some excitement in training yesterday.” Tristan peered at me over his glass of red wine. It was our first time talking since we met two days ago, and we were having dinner in his apartment. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about suddenly having a grandfather – especially Madeline’s father – but I was trying to get past my reservations and give us a chance to get to know each other.
I looked up from my salad, prepared to defend my actions. I wasn’t surprised that Celine had complained about me. She had made it clear from the first time she opened her mouth that she did not like me. I still stood by my decision not to kill the bazerats, even though they were demons. Being demons did not make them inherently evil like vampires. The world is full of demons and many of them are more of a nuisance than a real threat. I used to live in a house infested with imps, and though they were sometimes annoying, they had never shown any real malice.
Roland hadn’t agreed with me when I told him about the bazerats last night. Werewolves have more of a black-and-white view when it comes to demons, even if my friends made an exception for me. Roland thought I should have killed the bazerats, and it rankled me that he seemed to be siding with Celine. We’d argued about it for at least thirty minutes before we agreed to disagree for the sake of peace. He was actually more interested in how I’d zapped the bazerats and knocked them out than whether or not I’d killed them.
“Did you really throw a knife at Celine and urge the other trainees to refuse to complete the task?”
My mouth fell open. “I did not throw a knife at anyone. I tossed it on the ground. And all I said was that I didn’t believe in senseless killing. Okay, I might have told Terrence it was easier to kill something than catch it, but that’s it, I swear.”
Tristan’s laugh took me by surprise. “Celine always did have a flair for the dramatic. She is a skilled warrior and a good trainer . . . most of the time.”
“I must have gotten her during one of her off times.”
“Celine is . . . well, let’s just say she has a better rapport with men than other women.” He set his glass down. “I can speak to her if you’d like.”
“No, I can handle it on my own. She’s no worse than some of the girls I knew in high school.”