Page 48 of Will It Hurt?

Her eye roll was decidedly dramatic. “Where would I go? You locked us in, remember? I’ll need your magick to get out.”

True. I had done that. I patted myself on the back for the forethought.

“Is what we’re looking for in here?” she asked, indicating the olaichuvadi.

“No.” I shook my head. “A spell similar to The Retractare would be in one of the main spellbooks. ”

“Or…” I said, turning to look at the shelves that spanned across the breadth of a wall. “It could be in one of those.”

Her shoulders tightened with resignation as she murmured: “Of course.”

A companionable silence fell between us as I reached for a detection spell, running my palm over the shelves to draw forth the spellbook that held information on The Retractare.

Only one thick tome reacted to the spell, glowing faintly under the torchlight.

There.

I tipped up onto my toes, trying to reach for it on the top shelf.

While many people talked about having a certain blindness —negative traits about themselves that they couldn’t quite see—I had to admit that I had always been height blind.

The scales told me I was little over five feet, but I truly believed that if I acted like I was five foot ten, people around me would buy it.

But as I strained to reach the top shelf, the delusion hit me in the face.

Jinn watched me, her amusement palpable as I teetered on my toes.

“Here, let me.”

Her hands hovered over my waist. There were plenty of reasons for me to say no and back away, but against all logic, I nodded instead.

She gripped my waist and lifted me onto her right shoulder in one fluid motion. The world shifted as I balanced above her, trying to find a comfortable spot on her bony shoulder. Her grip was solid, stable, her fingers curling over my thigh to anchor me.

Oh shit .

Every inch of my skin hummed, alive and singing where she touched me, her grip firm as she held me steady.

My size sixteen arse was too large for most human women to piggyback, much more lift over their shoulders like it was nothing. I glanced down at Jinn, wondering if she was struggling to keep me up, but she seemed almost… Indifferent to my weight.

Well, hell.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Actually, yes,” I replied, refusing to be embarrassed, even though I felt a pinch of heat in my cheeks. “Your services are adequate, thank you.”

Her chuckle warmed something inside me.

The height gave me a new perspective; the spellbook was finally within reach.

But… All I could focus on was her —how strong her shoulders felt beneath me, how solid, how close . Even through the fabric between us, I could feel how cool her skin was. It spread through me in waves, making my pulse thrum in places I wanted to ignore.

Oh, fuck. Would she be able to smell it if I got wet?

My hands gripped the shelves for balance, reaching for the book, but my focus was scattered. I was forced to repeat the spell five times before the large leatherbound book dislodged from its resting place.

I clasped it to my chest.

“Done?” she asked. “Need anything else?”

I shook my head.

In a one-two move, she set me down on the ground, her arm clasped around my waist.

Curse the moon. I wanted to pretend like the encounter meant nothing, but the truth was undeniable: I felt her everywhere .

She hadn’t even touched any part of my bare skin, but where her fingers had lingered felt alive, tingling and oh-so-fucking-sensitive.

I knew I should thank her, but I didn’t trust my voice. If I opened my mouth and my voice cracked, I would absolutely die from embarrassment.

Instead, I placed the spellbook on its assigned dais and cupped my palm over the leather bindings.

Concentrateconcentrateconcentrate…

I repeated the word so many times that it lost all meaning. Jinn stood to my right, watching as I tried to unlock the spellbook and failed miserably.

My boots crunched on the unswept floor as I turned to her, deciding that I should tackle the problem head-on.

“Give me some space,” I said, flicking my fingers in the air in a go away motion. “You’re too close.”

Her brows rose to comical heights.

“You’re blaming me for your shortcomings?” she asked with a scoff in her voice.

“Because you’re distracting me.”

“How am I distracting you?”

I felt my nostrils flare. “You know how.”

“Yes, little wytch.” Her mental voice was smooth as velvet in my head. “I can smell it when you get wet.”

My palms shot out, shoving her backward. The element of surprise was on my side and she stumbled into the table, scraping it across the floor.

I slammed the mental barriers down between us, wondering how she had gotten through without me noticing.

“Don’t,” I warned, narrowing my eyes.

“Don’t what?” she challenged.

“Don’t get into my head.”

“I never did. You’re a loud thinker—are you going to blame me for that as well? ”

She straightened and I glanced around for something to chuck at her.

“Don’t call me that either. I’m not your little wytch.”

She tilted her chin as she stared at me. “It’s merely a factual statement. You’re little and a wytch.”

“And you’re really starting to piss me off.”

She mirrored my stance, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s terribly unhealthy to pick a fight just to mask your obvious desire for me.”

“I’m not masking anything.”

She took a calculated step forward. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I stated, refusing to acknowledge the click in my throat.

“Denial isn’t healthy.”

“I said I’m sure .”

Even I had to admit that my voice had turned pissy.

“Then prove it.”

She closed the distance between us yet again.

“Prove… what?” I asked, eyeing her warily.

Her smile was altogether predatory.

“Prove that I don’t affect you, of course.”

My gulp was loud in the silence, and I clocked it for the betrayal that it was.