11
“You don’t like flying. You don’t trust my magic. This is the next best way.”
I crossed my arms as I stared at Geraint. A fire blazed before us. Geraint stared at the flames, grimacing as they licked up the sides of the brick hearth. He planted his feet wide on the hardwood floor and crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.
“I’m not getting into a fire,” he said.
“It’s perfectly safe,” said Desi. “As long as you hold onto me.”
The Greek god of the underworld leaned against the far wall. The orange flames shimmied in the palm of one of his tanned hands. The fingers of his other hand toyed with the ginger beard at his chin.
We’d left the think tank twenty minutes ago on our own. Demi had forced Tia into sister bonding time, dragging Hestia out to dinner for some quali
