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I wake slowly, with a sense of bone-deep satisfaction weighing down my limbs.
Kyan is gone from the bed. My breath catches, then I see him in the armchair by the window, staring with a distant expression at the almost-dawn landscape. His trousers and boots are on, though his chest is bare—the blood-soaked and ripped shirt is probably in the bathroom, along with my blood-stained clothing.
His dark hair curls against his jawline, and his muscled arms rest loosely on the chair’s armrests.
He’s so gorgeous, even like this. Especially like this, in contemplation.
A gentle rain is still falling. In the gray early morning light, the droplets shimmer like silver. The pond—a small lake, really—is still and peaceful, a tranquil oasis that I’m sure was the reason these cabins were built at this location.
I know that my newfound safety—the serene haven we created for ourselves here—won’t last much longer. But for now, I slide out of bed, wrapping the sheet around my nakedness and padding across the room to stand beside him.
“Morning.”
His head turns and his eyes soften as he looks me over. “Hey. You’re awake.”
“So are you.” I frown. “Did you really keep watch all night?”
He shrugs, resettling in the chair. “Of course. The danger is still out there somewhere.”
“Thank you. Are you feeling okay? Must be uncomfortable in that chair.”
Ky chuckles. “I told you, I’m a shifter. The chair is perfectly fine, and now that my wound is healed, I’m back to full strength.”
“I’m glad. I’m feeling much better, too. My magic is probably even up to the task of fixing our ripped and bloody clothing before we head out of here.”
“Shame.” His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I kind of like you wrapped in that sheet. Or even better... without it.”
Heat rushes up my neck into my face and I duck my head to hide my embarrassment. I’m not used to this kind of intimacy; it feels awkward, the morning after.
A glint of something shiny catches my eye and I turn, grateful for the distraction. Amethyst’s silver box lies on the bedside table. My heart beats extra-fast as I pick it up and stroke the lid.
Meet me under the river.
My cousin is waiting for me. Today’s the day we find her, and figure out what to do about the demon threat.
Kyan is watching me. I’m newly aware of the delicious ache in my limbs from last night, and the unfamiliar soreness between my legs. An image of the two of us rutting hard and fast rises in my mind, and I wish we had time for a re-do.
But we can’t. It’s time to dress and get out of here before the owner twigs that there’s a pair of squatters in the cabin.
“Do you want the shower first?” I ask tentatively. “Or...”
“I took one an hour ago. You go ahead.”
“Okay.” I set down the box, still not quite meeting his gaze, and scurry to the bathroom.
When I’m done showering, I lay out Ky’s shirt on the floor and cast a repair spell over it.
It is a simple incantation and with my magic levels restored, doesn’t take long at all.
The ripped fabric knits nicely, and as I watch, the bloody stains disappear, until the shirt is as good as new. I do the same with my top, covered in Ky’s blood, and then dress quickly.
As I’m about head out, I notice a small bowl on the dresser, filled with fragrant dried flowers. I scoop out the flowers and fill the bowl halfway with water before returning to the bedroom.
Ky eyes me as I hand him his repaired shirt before setting the bowl on the bedside table.
“What are you doing?” His tone is curious, not judgmental, and yet I can’t help but feel self-conscious.
“Scrying,” I mutter. “Or attempting to, at least. Jury’s out on whether it’ll actually work. It’s not my strong suit, that’s for sure.”
I avert my eyes from the delectable rippling muscles as Kyan pulls on his shirt, and return my attention to the bowl, trailing a hand through the water’s smooth surface and watching my own reflection break and reform.
“Scrying,” Kyan says thoughtfully. When I look up, he runs a hand through his hair. If possible, it’s even more rumpled than before. I try to hide my smile, and tamp down the hint of jealousy—if I did that all the time, my hair would look ridiculous. He just looks sexier, the messier it gets.
He gives up on trying to neaten his hair and wanders across to look over my shoulder. “What is scrying, exactly? Is it like looking into a crystal ball? Seeing glimpses of the future?”
“It’s like divination,” I say. “Gaining some insight into whatever it is a person needs to know. In this instance, I know roughly where Amethyst is hiding, but I’m going to scry to try and figure out exactly where she is.”
“Good idea. We can then work out a game plan on the way.”
His hands drop onto my shoulders, and I relax into his touch. I feel so comfortable with Ky, as if I have known him for far longer than a couple of days.
He gently squeezes my shoulders before stepping away.
“I’ll go forage in the other room for something to eat.”
I nod gratefully, glad of the space. It’ll be easier to focus without the distraction of his presence.
Scrying works best if the seer has some kind of personal item belonging to the person being sought. The only things of Amethyst’s I have on hand are the silver box, and the cleansing salve I put on Ky’s chest. The latter will be easier to hold. There isn’t much salve left, but I dig through my bag to find the tub and clutch it in one hand before closing my eyes and gathering together every memory of Amethyst I have.
The images fill my mind, growing more and more vivid with each passing second. Sunlight through a car window. A bare, freckled arm reaching up to the sky. Giggling on a beach, breathing the salt-smell of the ocean on a rare day trip. Sharing secrets under the cover of darkness, after the clock struck twelve.
Her face blooms in my mind. Sharp, high cheekbones. Wide brown eyes, just like mine. But where my hair falls in ordinary brown waves, hers is a deep, sleek chestnut.
Focus. Breathe.
I open my eyes and stare into the bowl of water.
Neon lights appear on the surface—hazy and indistinct at first. Then, the image sharpens. A restaurant sign appears above a bustling establishment: The River Bar and Grill.
I smile down at the bowl.
“Yeah, I got that part already. But where are you, Ammie? Where exactly?”
The scene shifts and wobbles. My vision travels down a narrow set of concrete steps to a basement area, through an almost hidden door in the corner and past a beaded curtain into a long hallway. I finally reach a small room, where a woman sits hunched over a desk.
My cousin.
She’s surrounded by books and ingredients. Half-finished spells litter every surface of her workspace. The red brick wall above the desk is covered with neat lines of protection sigils. I watch as the warding flickers, sensing my presence.
Amethyst looks up, frowning.
My breath catches as her eyes skate past me. I want to tell her that we’re safe, that we’re coming. But I know she won’t be able to hear me. After a moment, she returns to her work. My presence is nothing more to her than a whisper on the wind.
My fingertips breach the surface of the bowl, and the image dissolves.
I swallow my disappointment and stand up from the bed, wishing I’d boosted the water with a droplet of blood. I might have been able to communicate with her. But it doesn’t matter. I have all the information I need.
Kyan chooses that moment to re-enter the bedroom. He is juggling two mugs of coffee and a bunch of granola bars.
“It’s all they had left in the cupboard—though the coffee is hot and fresh. Nothing fancy, I’m afraid.”
“We don’t have time for fancy.” I gesture to the bowl. “I know where my cousin is.”
“One of these days I’ll make you a real breakfast.” He winks. “I have a killer French toast recipe.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“I’m counting on it.”
We sip on coffee and pick our way through the snacks until we’ve had our share, bickering over what constitutes acceptable breakfast food. It’s strangely normal, and I can almost kid myself that this is our life; that Kyan is about to walk out the door on his way to work, kissing me goodbye as he goes, before I head off to my shop.
We don’t talk about what happened last night.
Neither of us wants to break the spell. His eyes linger on me as I braid my hair, and I can’t help but think about his hands in it, firm and certain as he guided my mouth to his cock.
But we can’t pretend forever. It’s time to leave.
I grab my bag and start to pull out a bunch of money for the cabin owner, but Kyan stays my hand.
“No.”
“But—”
“No. The pack’s got this.” His expression brooks no argument. He leaves a wad of cash on the kitchenette counter, more than enough for the night’s accommodation, and to cover cleaning costs and the food we ate.
After a brief hesitation, I nod. “All right. Thank you.”
I cast one final wistful look behind me before the cabin door closes. For all I know, the few hours we spent here will be the last shreds of normality I’ll ever have again.
I know what’s coming for me. It’s on the horizon already—a black, desolate cloud hanging over everything.
It was always going to be this way...
His hand, solid and warm on my arm, tugs me out of my daze.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You know I’m here, right? I’m not going anywhere.”
Unexpectedly, affection bubbles up inside my chest. My hand comes up and covers his.
I don’t trust myself to speak, but Kyan seems to get the message anyway. We fall into step beside one another as we make our way to the car.
“So, where next?”
“When we were growing up, my cousins and I bounced around a lot,” I say. “One time, Ammie and I ran away from our foster parents—Sapphire was too little to come with us that time—and we ended up hanging around outside this bar down by the beach.”
Kyan smirks. “Couple of little tearaways, weren’t you?”
I shoot him a rueful smile and shake my head. “Couple of little idiots, more like. Lucky for us, the owners let us crash in their back room. They kept us safe till the social workers came. Could’ve got nasty, especially with our powers, which were really untrained and untapped, back then.”
Kyan nods. Adolescence and magic do not go hand-in-hand. I’m sure he has more than a few stories of his own on the subject of teenage shifters.
“Anyway.” As I lay a hand on the car, I stare off into the trees without really seeing them. “We used to say that if we ever got in trouble, we’d take baby Sapphire and head back down to that bar.” I look across at him. “It’s called The River.”
“Meet me under the river,” Kyan mutters, and then shakes his head.
As I pull out onto the track that leads to the main road, I take one last glimpse in my rear-view mirror. Everything peaceful and normal is now behind us.
Only the goddess knows what lies ahead.
