Free The Final Formula by Becca Andre Page B

but I suspected he outweighed him. As much as I disliked the guy, I had to give George credit for his dedication to the gym. I couldn’t decide if he wore those black tanks because he liked to show off his arms or because his biceps wouldn’t fit in regular shirt sleeves.
    Rowan glanced at the hand on his arm before meeting George’s glare. I got the impression that Rowan wasn’t remotely intimidated. It occurred to me that if these two got into it, my little lab might not survive.
    “Hey, Georgie.” I held out my arms in front of me, displaying the sleeves gathered around my wrists.
    He glared at me, but didn’t let go of Rowan. “I’m not in the mood for your smartass shit right now.”
    Oh, the fun I could have with that line. Instead, I let the sleeves dangle from my hands. “Gee, where did the stitching go? It’s almost as if it vaporized.”
    Rowan watched me, a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth.
    “Think…about…it,” I said to George, drawing out each word.
    George shifted his attention back to Rowan. I suspected the constipated look meant he was thinking, but I could be wrong.
    “George, have I introduced you to the Flame Lord?”
    Rowan’s half smile became a frown that shifted to me.
    “This pretty boy?” George asked. “Bullshit.”
    The heavy black watch encircling George’s wrist vanished in a flash of light. George jerked his hand from Rowan’s arm and gripped his bare wrist.
    “Pretty boy?” Rowan asked.
    George backed away from him, eyes narrowing. “What do you want with my alchemist?”
    “As I told you: a word.”
    George glanced from Rowan to me, and back again. “See that that’s all you do.” A final glare and he turned and left the room.
    I’d never accuse George of being a genius, but I wouldn’t call him a coward either.
    Rowan turned to face me, and his dark brows descended over glowing orange eyes. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
    I snatched a vial off the table and held it aloft. It contained chicory root extract, a useful ingredient in several of my formulas, but not much use against a pissed-off Fire Element.
    “Back off,” I said.
    He took a cautious step to the side, trying to circle the table. “I’m no longer under your spell.”
    I assumed he referred to the formula I’d hit him with the day before. “It wasn’t a spell.” I stepped in the opposite direction. “It was a special formula designed to alter your brain chemistry. It left you open to suggestion. Something like chemical hypnosis with full cognizance.”
    “I’d accuse you of being a scientist before the magic came back, but you’re not old enough.” He took another step, and I did the same. At the far end of the table sat my newest Knockout Powder application: a small gas grenade.
    “How did you find me?” If I could distract him until I got to the end of the table…
    “Caller ID. You called from this shop to make your appointment.” He gave up trying to circle the table and started down the opposite side, across from me. “You’re not happy to see me?” His eyes never left mine.
    “Not particularly.”
    He placed a hand over his heart. “Ouch.” The fitted black sweater looked expensive and so did the tailored pants. He might have put the robes aside, but he would still stand out in a crowd—at least around here.
    “I have no intention of telling anyone about yesterday.”
    “And yet you blow my cover to the first man I meet.”
    “Your cover?”
    “Do you think I wear those robes for the fun of it? I wouldn’t be able to leave my house if the world knew my face.”
    “If your identity is so secret, why give George the evidence and ash his watch?”
    “He pissed me off.” His odd calm did nothing for my nerves.
    I lunged for the end of the table. My hand had just closed around the grenade when the pair of windows on the opposite wall exploded. Two dark forms dropped into the room with the clink of falling glass.
    Rowan vaulted the table and caught me around