Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 by Hailey Edwards

let her go. Stubborn fingers refused to pry loose and got tangled in her bracelet. With a quick jerk, he snatched free, chain in hand. Isabeau’s head snapped toward him. Her sharp glance from her wrist to his hand had him closing his fingers over his prize. She hopped on one foot and clawed at the air, reaching for him.
    Oh yes, she wanted this back bad enough to fight him and the trap for it.
    As if realizing her mistake, she stood tall as her one leg allowed and ordered, “Give it back.”
    “What, this?” He dangled the locket between them.
    Isabeau swiped at him. He danced back a step. She scowled. He grinned. Now we’re talking.
    “Dillon, please.” Her gaze hadn’t left his hand. “It’s mine and I want it back.”
    He laughed, startling them both. “So says the thief. I should take this, and you, as my due.” He bit the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t meant to add that last part. Glamour rippled on his skin.
    Her eyes widened. “Are you—?”
    “I’m fine.” He grunted under the strain of repairing his illusion. Once it snapped into place, he didn’t waste time worrying over how she stared at the sand at his feet instead of his eyes. Had she seen…? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. “Sorry about this.” He kicked the bend of her knee and watched it buckle, heard her panicked gasp as she dropped backwards and hit the sand.
    “What are you—?” She tilted her head back, and the betrayal in her eyes made him pause.
    “You wanted to do this the hard way.” He tucked her necklace into his pocket and reached down. “Hold my hands.” She grasped his wrists. “Now that your weight is off that foot, I want you to work it in a slow circle. Make some room so the energy flows down and dilutes the sand.”
    A raspy chuckle made him stare. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
    “This is standard legionnaire training.” Talking seemed to take her mind off her predicament, so he kept going. “The recruits from Earth are grass-green and have no idea what they’re facing here. Back home, magic doesn’t exist. Yeah, there’s glamour, but it’s like wearing clothes. All the earthborn Evanti begin learning concealment from birth.” To live among humans, they had to. “But that’s the thing, by making it everyday ordinary, it loses that spark.”
    She grunted. “You show them there’s more to glamour than using it as a disguise.”
    “Someone has to. It’s dangerous here.” He frowned at her. “Glamour is different here. It’s more because there are different demon breeds and different means of manipulation. Sand traps are perfect teaching tools. They’re more scavenger than predator and easy enough to escape if you keep a level head.” He noticed her foot was free except for her toes and began walking backwards slow and steady. “It’s a good lesson in how magic corrupts its containers, becomes sentient, and how remaining aware means we avoid falling prey to it or more malicious breeds.”
    “You don’t care much for the other breeds.” Her breath caught when he pulled too hard.
    He had never considered it in those terms, but, “No. I don’t.” His admission gave voice to a creeping suspicion that maybe he wasn’t all that different from the purists who only wanted him for his blood. If he wasn’t denying his disinterest in other breeds, then he was admitting his libido had only sparked for one female whose breed remained a mystery. One he feared solving.
    “Hmm.” Isabeau didn’t reply. Her lids were drooping. Not a good sign.
    “Hold tight.” One more tug and she pulled free with a hushed groan that sent him stumbling back. His bad leg buckled and he fell. She landed with a grunt on top of him. For a minute, they lay there and caught their breaths. His spine was board straight, and Isabeau was spread eagle across him. The back of her head rested on his crotch while her arms and legs sprawled over his.
    Dillon gave up hope of concealing his reaction to her,