“They call upon the dead,” I whispered, shivering.
“Among other things, yeah.” He brushed his fingers through his hair, sighing. “There’s a lot for me to explain, but what’s most important is for us to tap into your gifts.”
“Assuming I have them.”
“You do.” Tray sounded certain, as if there couldn’t possibly be an alternative. “Give me your hand. I want to show you something.”
“Uh, okay.” I obliged, curious.
He clasped my wrist with one hand while using his finger of the other to draw a line of tingling energy across the fleshy surface of my palm. I quivered at the heated embers racing across my skin, the blue sparks dancing in a hypnotic pattern.
“That’s how I know,” he murmured, his lips tugging at the corner. “My magic recognizes you as a conduit—which marks you as a fae.”
“What would that do on a human?”
Tray lifted a shoulder. “It’d burn them.”
I snatched my hand back. “You did that knowing it might hurt me?”
He chuckled. “I did that knowing it wouldn’t hurt you, El. You’re a Halfling. I sensed it in you the night we met, and it’s still very much there. We just need to figure out why your talent is hiding and break it free.”
“Okay, first, you and your nicknames are just…” I trailed off, shaking my head. Isabella. Ella. El. Dove. Darling. Sweetheart. Ugh. “And second, how do you propose we do that, dear Fairy Guardian?”
“Fairy Guardian?” he repeated.
“Would you prefer I call you Mr. Nicknames?” I offered. “Because I can roll with that as well.”
He snorted. “Tray is fine.”
“As is Ella.”
He scratched his jaw, considering. “What about Ella Bella?”
“How about no?” I countered.
His lips curled. “You’re making me want to kiss you again, Ella.”
“We’re supposed to be learning right now, Tray.”
“Oh, it would definitely be a learning experience. Trust me.”
I lifted my eyes heavenward. “We are never going to find my hidden fae talents if all you want to do is make out with me.”
“On the contrary, I might be able to ignite them with a few thorough orgasms. Shall we test the theory and find out?”
I gave him a look. “Seriously, fae or human, all boys think about is sex.”
“I’m a man, not a boy,” he clarified. “And what’s wrong with that? Sex is fun.”
Meaning he was experienced.
Which, yeah, I sort of knew that based on the way he kissed. But knowing he’d fooled around before had my stomach cramping for a multitude of reasons.
Not only had he been with other girls, but he’d also have expectations.
Expectations I might not be able to live up to with my lack of sexual know-how.
Why am I even thinking about this?