Max looked down at the angel in his arms. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he traced a finger down her soft cheek to that beguiling mouth that had driven him insane. Correction: he was going to hell after a short detour through heaven. But what had him reeling was the way he’d almost lost control of jn ch’i. For a moment, it had burst from his body and mingled in her. She’d felt it—he’d seen that in her eyes—even if she didn’t know what it was. He hadn’t lost control of jn ch’i ever. Not even when he’d just received his scroll and powers. The scroll was still under the bed. He could feel its pull through all the layers separating them. Uncomfortable. His birthmark itched at its closeness, and— Max stilled at a faint noise, turning to look out the windows to the balcony. It seemed to come from outside. There it was again—a light scrape. Common sense told him he was overreacting, but intuition insisted he get up to check. He eased Carrie off his shoulder and padded to the windows.
