Page 6 of Sun and Stone (Elementally Yours #5)

6. Rocking Your World?

What just happened?

While Fynn heads off to tell the baker what we thought of the desserts, I remain rooted to my chair. I couldn't get up even if a herd of wild animals was about to stampede all over me… I really shouldn't watch Discovery Channel late at night because I can picture a stampede far too well.

I may know some random facts about hippos and zebras, but I have no idea what I just witnessed. Fynn said his powers were weak and inconsequential. Yet he busted my radar. What the hell is going on?

Pulling out my phone, I text the person who gifted me the radar to get some answers.

Perry: What happens if the device goes crazy and breaks? Like if it smokes and the screen implodes?

Argyle: Congrats!

Argyle jumped to the wrong conclusion there. With a grimace, I correct him.

Perry: No, it wasn’t reacting to me.

Argyle: Oh. Hold on.

I do, literally clutching the phone tightly in my hands and staring at the screen until he messages me again.

Argyle: Oops. Apparently, I was supposed to tell you that you wanna be careful bringing the radar around branded casters until it syncs up with you. It responds to strong magical ability and potential and can gravitate towards them naturally if it isn’t focused on a target.

Perry: But this person isn’t branded.

Argyle: Someone about to brand soon?

Perry: No.

Not according to him, anyway.

Argyle: Sorry, that’s all we can come up with. Samson broke the first one, trying to see what it’d do. He did flame magic until it short circuited. The radar is trying to find hidden/untapped power. When branded or on your way, it’s not really hidden and can make the device go kaboom.

When Fynn comes back, I rise from my seat so we can head out. The playful look on his face takes me by surprise. When he reaches me, he brushes his hand against my arm, his touch lingering suggestively. "This is kind of crass, but if you don't want our evening to be over..."

"It's afternoon. Barely," I point out.

"I was thinking saying 'evening' might make it less crass," he admits.

"Hey, you don't need to be smooth. I'm all yours," I manage to reply.

We did agree to be friends with benefits, and neither of us had dessert in mind when we agreed to this arrangement. An hour ago, I would have been eager to start benefiting immediately.

Hell, I still want to. Last night was fantastic and I need more of him. But it's hard to focus. Even when I toss the busted radar into the trash on the way out, I can't forget what I just saw.

Fynn leads the way out of the bakery and towards his car. All I have to do is follow him and put one foot in front of the other, which is about all I can manage as my thoughts are still running wild.

Something is wrong with this picture. Every conclusion I try to come up with leads me down two paths: either Fynn is mistaken… or he’s lying to me.

Why would Fynn lie about his magical ability and present his powers as weaker? Only one answer makes sense. He wouldn't lie about this. We've only known each other a day, but I already feel like I know the kind of man he is. He’s the kind of man who goes out of his way to help a stranger on the street.

He isn’t lying to me. Fynn must truly believe his powers are weak and inconsequential. Something else is up.

"So, do you ever dream about something changing and you becoming a wizard again?" I ask once we get in the car, trying to sound casual.

"Won't tell you it never crossed my mind," he admits, "but it's not something I dwell on these days."

"Did you ever start casting again after you stopped? Did you see if your strength returned?"

"More at the start," Fynn says, his eyes flicking to me, then back to the road. "Nothing changed, as far as I could tell. Except for me."

"What about when you cast in front of me?" I press. "The magic seemed natural."

"Maybe with the plant, but do you remember the glitter? I wasn't trying to conjure any heat and I nearly started a fire."

"Okay, you're a little rusty. The magic still came easily."

"Those were small, isolated incidents of magic. Of course it wasn't hard."

I suspect he wasn’t expecting this many questions about his chances of becoming a wizard. He sends me a look in the rear-view mirror, telling me to drop the subject.

… I can’t.

“Even if you say your magical days are behind you, you haven’t been bound.”

"That’s procedure." Fynn's knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. “I asked about it. If I had an underlying health condition that could be exacerbated by magical strain, then they would have bound me when I stopped trying. One day, I’ll still hit my limit and they’ll bind me then."

That's why most casters don't wait. Yes, the more magic we use, the more strain it causes. But the end is coming no matter what. It's better to go down swinging than to strike out waiting for the right pitch that never comes.

…That is the only sports analogy I know. It fits, so it was well worth learning enough about baseball to understand the concept.

"The less magic I use, the slower the end will arrive," he continues. "Until then, I guess it leaves me free to chase a brand again if I change my mind.”

"And will you?" I wonder. "Change your mind?"

He shakes his head, or he starts to, when the light turns green and he zooms off instead.

We pull into the hotel parking lot, and Fynn parks while I ball my hands into fists and firmly tell myself to shut up. It's clear he doesn't appreciate the pointed questions about the choices he's made.

"Okay, buddy, hold on," he says, unclicking his seat belt and twisting towards me. "Were you listening to anything I just said in the bakery? I know this is hard to believe when magic is all you want, but I'm done with that life. I put it behind me."

"I know," I say quietly, my fingers drumming against the armrest.

"I'm happy to answer your questions, but can we take a break from the questions that have been asked and answered?"

"You didn't answer this one," I point out. "If things were different—"

"But they aren't."

I open my mouth to protest, to push him further, but he cuts me off. "We're here."

Fynn gets out of the car without me and starts charging towards the hotel. When we first met, I wondered if he was even capable of getting pissed off. He seems too sweet and sunny.

There's my answer. Yes. Yes, he can. In fact, he's pretty good at being mad, once someone gets him to that point.

When I catch up with him and we step into the elevator, a tense silence descends. I go back and forth on what to do. I wonder if I'm wrong. What if the radar made a mistake?

Should I let it drop? Fynn is done with magic, and I want to respect that. But he believes his powers dwindled and are weak, much weaker than they really are. If that played a factor in him stepping away from magic, then he doesn’t have all the information he needs.

Fynn can be done with magic if he chooses, but what if he doesn’t have to be? What if it’s not too late for him?

The elevator doors slide open with a cheerful ding, but the mood has taken a more serious turn. Fynn slowly walks down the hallway towards his room, and I follow a few paces behind.

He turns and faces me, mustering up a small smile. "It's sweet, well, I think you're trying to be sweet and inspire me to keep trying, but that chapter is over for me. Now... are we done with this?"

I give a small nod. What else can I do? Hopefully we can still salvage the rest of our afternoon.

Fynn unlocks the door, and we step inside. The sexual energy from earlier has dissipated, replaced by an awkward tension hanging in the air.

We hover in the entryway, unsure of how to proceed. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Fynn and I drift towards each other, our bodies instinctively seeking that intimacy again. I reach out and lightly trace the curve of his cheekbone, gauging his reaction.

When he doesn't pull away, I lean in closer until our lips brush in the barest hint of a kiss. Fynn's arms wind around my waist, pulling me flush against him as the kiss deepens. I want to fall into him and forget everything else… except this doesn't feel right.

The older I get, the more I'm searching for clues and hidden signs from the universe and from magic. Any indication that points me in the right direction, that helps me see what I need to do in order to receive a test from the rock element.

Once upon a time, I thought I was so incredibly close to getting that nod from the mystical forces of the world. That all it would take was a gentle nudge and then I'd be a rockbrand.

But lately, the forces that govern human magic haven't said a word to me. Not a "Good job, Per. You're on the right track' or a 'hey, how you been?' Not even a 'sup?'

Until now.

It's like I can hear the mysterious forces in the universe screaming at me. Telling me this means something. And while this wasn't exactly the message I wanted to receive, and it's about someone else's powers instead of my own, wouldn't I be a fool not to listen?

"I'm sorry, Fynn," I murmur, pulling away. "But it doesn't feel right to keep this to myself. Something strange is going on here. I'm not sure what exactly, but I think you have stronger magical powers than you're aware of. Strong enough to brand, if that's what you wanted."

Complete silence falls over the room.

Barely able to stand the quiet, I need something to do. Anything other than wait for his reaction, so I start to count the seconds. By the time I start counting, I only get as far as one measly Mississippi before he reacts.

Fynn's expression shutters closed, his eyes going cold and distant as he regards me with new wariness.

"Get out," he says flatly.

He turns away, stalking to the other side of the room. Oh crap.

I look at his back and try to find the perfect thing to say. Apologies and explanations fill my mind but don't make it past my lips. I want to fix this… but the damage is already done. We haven't known each other long, but I already know that Fynn is the sweetest, sunniest person I've ever met.

I bet it takes a lot to upset him. And I've made him so angry he can't even stand to look at me.

What can I say? I've already said too much. So, I do the last thing I want and leave.

Maybe the universe was sending me a message. Maybe not. Either way, the universe and I should have just kept our mouths shut.