“Lennox, you can’t use magic,” he calls after me, and my wide you’ll rue the day smile falters.
I spin so fast to face Rogan it would make a cyclone jealous. “Um, say what now?” I demand sweetly, like the polite tone itself will make him declare something that doesn’t completely fuck me over.
He huffs, annoyed, like he’s the one who just agreed to body tackle The Mountain. “It’s part of the rules. You can’t use magic on the stump itself or the person on it. You also can’t use magic to throw other people at the person on the stump. Oh, and no biting in any form,” he adds as though chomping into Saxon would have been my next plan of action. I look over at the mass of muscle on the stump and cock a brow. In the bedroom maybe…
I swat that thought away and try to figure out what the hell to do now. Riggs is laughing so hard his face now matches the color of his beard. And I’m four paces into having just thrown down my gauntlet. I look around at my feet as though I can physically see a gauntlet just lying about. Maybe if I pick it up and do an Ace Ventura rewind back over the low-set stone wall, no one will think anything of it.
I imagine offering the crowd my best pageant wave as I demurely tell them, my bad, my gauntlet totally just fell, definitely didn’t throw it, nope, that’d be some crazy shit.
I look around at all the judgmental and eager faces surrounding me. Crap, I don’t think there’s any getting out of this. Which means I have to make an ass out of myself by trying to tackle the guy, probably injuring myself in the process when I bounce off the wall of muscle that is Saxon whatever the hell his last name is, and then tuck tail and go back to Riggs and Rogan sans any hope of ever owning a jackalope bone.
I square my shoulders, fully aware that after I break them in this stupid attempt to shove Saxon off his stump, I won’t be moving them for a while. I hesitantly step further into the clearing. The wild grass is clipped short, and the patches of dirt, peaking out here and there, feel like they’re mocking me. Saxon turns at the points and whispers of the surrounding crowd. His golden eyes assess me as I amble closer. It’s as though, despite my size and sex, he’s taking this seriously, looking at me as though I really could be a threat. For some reason, this makes me feel better.
I know I’m not going to be able to move his very large and very attractive ass from where he’s standing, but he’s taking this seriously and...fuck it, so will I. His gilded gaze tracks me as I make a slow circle around him. I stretch out my neck and my arms as I go, which elicits some chuckles from the spectators watching with mirthful anticipation. I look as though I’m trying and failing at intimidating him, but really I’m trying to reduce the odds of pulling a muscle when I finally make a move.
I complete my perusing circle, but I still have nothing, so I start another one. It’s not like the scenery is bad. Saxon isn’t even sweating from his exertions so far, which is a shame because I could really go for watching a bead of perspiration work its way down his chiseled abs right about now. You know, something to take the edge off.
I leisurely stroll around him, unabashedly checking him out...for weaknesses, of course. I tilt my head appreciatively and try to think through what the hell I’m going to do. I’m not allowed to use magic on him or the stump, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use magic at all. Charging him with all my might is pretty laughable given what I’ve seen him toss around already. So what does that leave me?
My eyes trace the curves and dips of his arms, as I complete circle two, and I bite down on my lower lip in thought. Saxon watches me intently, his stare dropping to where I’m gnawing on my mouth, and I watch his chest expand with a deep inhale.
Is he smelling me?
I should probably be embarrassed by what he might be picking up with that deep pull of air into his lungs. Do dirty thoughts have a smell? I contemplate that as a sensual grin lifts his plump lips, and an idea sparks in my mind. Maybe getting physical is the right way to go after all. I lick my bottom lip, hoping it looks hot like it does when other girls do it and not as though I’m impersonating a toad catching its dinner.
The gathering crowd appears to be getting restless. Their chatter is getting louder and more impatient, but I don’t let it distract me as I pull in my own deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
I push magic out of me in search of bones. Being that they have a warehouse full of them not too far away, my search doesn’t last long. Magically I search through the options until I find exactly what I need. With a small squeak of excitement, I call the bones to me. This will never get old. It takes a handful of seconds for them to travel from where they’re being stored to the clearing I’m standing in, and I silently hope that Riggs won’t be annoyed at me using them. I’m not technically breaking any rules, I’m just trying to make things even, literally.
I lift my hand in a come hither motion, raising the travelling missiles so that no one gets taken out by one. Saxon studies the movement, and the crowd instantly grows quiet. All at once, long bones come flying into the clearing, and I point at where I want them to stack themselves. A few gasps ring out around me, but I tune all of that out and focus on what I need to do.
Slowly, bone after stacked bone, a rudimentary set of stairs start to form. I’m careful not to touch the stump or Saxon with anything, stacking the bones until I think there are enough steps for what I need. I step on the first layer of woven camel leg bones, testing it, and when it feels like the structure will hold my weight, I climb the rest of the short flight.
Saxon’s uncertain stare moves from the bone tower to me as I crest it, our faces now even with each other. I smile brightly, hoping it helps to disarm him a bit, but I can see he’s trying to work out what’s happening and what exactly I’m going to do with this stairway to his face.
“Hi,” I greet with a small wave.
“Hello,” he warily answers back, which makes me smile even wider. He’s smart to be untrusting.
“I’ve obviously bitten off more than I chew here,” I confess as his eyes once again drop to the bones I’m standing on. “I was dumb enough to fall for a dare, and as kind as you are to make me think otherwise, we both know there’s no way in hell I’m knocking you off this log,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
His eyes flick back up to mine, and I see him relax ever so slightly.
“So I thought to myself, self, if I can’t beat him to get what I want, maybe I can get something else just as tempting instead,” I profess, my eyes flitting back and forth between his beautiful golden irises. I wonder if it’s the lycan in him that creates such an unusual eye color or if it’s regular genetics at play.
“And what would that be?” Saxon asks me, a hint of curiosity swimming in the pool of swagger in his tone.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask plainly.
Saxon’s brow furrows slightly with confusion, and his eyes drop to my lips of their own accord before meeting my gaze again. “You want to kiss me?” he clarifies, as though the request makes no sense to him.
“Yes, but only if you’re okay with it,” I add.
He studies me for a beat, like the catch to my request is written somewhere in the depths of my eyes.
“Uh...okay,” he answers hesitantly, clearly not seeing the master plan hiding in my eyes.