TWENTY-SEVEN

I call Marcy twice to check up on Dart while Christy flirts with Matt at the counter and Haley gets stuck making coffee for a group of U.R.D. students who come in for the two-for-one lattes.

For now, I have a moment of peace. No crazy attraction to boys who can only cause me heartache, no homicidal demigods, and not a drop of blood in sight. If it weren’t for the pang of emptiness in my gut, I could almost believe that the world is normal.

The pain in my stomach eases and I know I’m not alone anymore. I stare down at my coffee, wanting to preserve the illusion of normalcy for just a few seconds more. The warm thrum that fills me isn’t entirely unwelcome, but it also means that I have to stop pretending.

Blake sits across from me without saying a word, casting a shadow across my coffee.

“How’d you find me?” I ask, still not looking up.

“It’s not so hard these days. Like having built-in GPS.”

I meet his gaze then, struck by his perfect bone structure and seductive smile. Not that I’m complaining. I mean, if I have to be wrapped up with someone like this, it doesn’t hurt that he’s beautiful. And I might even like him a little bit. Something else to torture myself about if I end up killing him.

“So you can find me? Just like that?”

He shrugs. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Can I do the same thing?”

He sits back in his chair, his knee touching mine under the table. “I don’t know. Have you ever tried?” I shake my head, trying to ignore the rush of longing that accompanies the contact with his leg. Blake runs a hand through his hair. “I guess we should talk.”

Does he know about Dart already? About Austin? Does he know I plan to kill Jonah? Maybe he’s here to talk me out of it. “Can it wait?” I ask. “I kind of like pretending that my life is completely normal.”

Blake crosses his arms and very deliberately pulls his leg away from mine. “You shouldn’t bother. There’s nothing normal about you.”

I take a sip of my latte. “You really do need to work on your moves.”

His answering smile is meant to placate me. “You keep saying that, but I think I’m doing all right.”

“On what planet is calling a girl abnormal considered smooth?”

He sets his chin in his hands. “When I said you aren’t normal, I meant that you are extraordinary.”

“Oh.” Our eyes hold for a minute, and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch him again.

Blake stands up, rubbing his hands across the denim that covers his thighs. “You want to get out of here? There’s something I want to show you.”

I glance back to where Christy is laughing at something Matt said. My work here is done.

We drive toward the beach. “Back to the scene of the crime?”

“Something like that.”

I keep sneaking glimpses of Blake. I don’t feel the rush of heat and anger that I’d expected. Maybe it’s because Dart is alive. Maybe it’s because Blake isn’t Jonah. Still, I know better than to trust that I won’t find myself consumed with a heady mix of power and rage at some point. It’s like there’s a bomb ticking away somewhere deep inside me. Too bad there’s no digital readout of the countdown, so I’ll know when it’s going to detonate.

We get out of the car and walk along the base of the cliff. The firepit is a dark pile of ash, barely visible in the moonlight. We stop in front of it.

“Do you trust me?” Blake asks.

“I’m not sure. I want to.”

“I wanted to show you this when we came here before.” He blushes. “We got a little distracted.” He walks up to the small crevice in the cliff and sticks his arm inside. He ducks and disappears into the side of the cliff.

“Blake?”

“Just try it,” he says from somewhere on the other side, though he sounds far way.

I inspect the cliff more closely. The crack can’t be more than six inches wide at the widest point. And it doesn’t appear to go anywhere. I can’t see anything but rock. “How did you do that?”

“You just have to trust it.”

I tentatively stick a hand inside the crack. It fits well enough. I push my arm in further, stopping when I feel Blake’s fingers close around my wrist.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

He pulls me to him, letting his arms close around me.

The air changes. The heavy ocean breeze disappears altogether, chased away by a bone-chilling wind. I hear water, but it’s no longer the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the beach—it’s the steady pounding of a rushing river.

Blake steps behind me, his hands clasped around my waist. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says.

I open my eyes, fighting a wave of nausea. We’re standing on a stark bluff, flat gray rock under our feet. The cliff we came through is a barren wall of rock behind us. At least fifty feet below, water rushes over rocks and stones, moonlight reflecting off the surface. Across the river is another rocky cliff, and behind it, more stark walls of rock, with waterfalls that carry more water down to the river. It’s a bleak and unforgiving landscape, and it’s breathtaking.

“Where are we?”

Blake leans over my shoulder. “I have no idea.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’ve been here a hundred times, and I’m not any closer to figuring it out than the first time I discovered it.”

“How did you find it?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

I nod.

“I come to the beach a lot. I run in the dark along the cliffs, as fast as I want. One night I ran right up to the cliff and couldn’t stop in time. I thought I was going to eat it. Instead, I went right through.”

“It’s amazing. Why did you want to show me?”

“I guess I just wanted someone else to see this.”

“It’s beautiful.” It’s true. Stark, cold, barren, but all of it works together to create a sense of awe.

We sit down on a large flat boulder and watch the river rush by for a while. I fold my knees up to my chest. “We need to talk.”

“Do we have to do this now?” he asks, not as eager as he appeared at the coffee shop.

“Dart was attacked today.”

“Dart?”

“My horse. His throat was cut.”

“You’re sure?”

He can’t hide the shock in his eyes. He didn’t know. I let out a breath. There’s a certain relief knowing that Blake wasn’t involved in the attack. As if I couldn’t be sure until now.

“Marcy thought it was a mountain lion.”

I feel the hope rise in his chest. “Was it?”

I shake my head. “It was Jonah.”

“You’re sure?”

“The cuts were jagged, like Jonah’s knife. And Jonah was there, with Parker.” I feel tears welling up as I remember Dart lying on the floor of the stall. “I know it was Jonah.” And I’m going to kill him.

Blake reaches out to rub my shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry, but let’s think about this. Jonah’s a hothead, but it still doesn’t sound like something he would do. He attacked you because it’s what he’s trained for. He believes in the war against magic. He wouldn’t have any reason to hurt your horse, unless your horse is some kind of magic creature. He’s not, is he?”

I pull away from him. “Don’t defend Jonah. I saw him just before it happened. He meant to hurt me. It was in his eyes.” My anger mixes with Blake’s emotion, which feels something like compassion. It doesn’t help. I don’t want Blake’s sympathy. I want to be angry. I need to be, to do what I have to do.

“I won’t defend him, Brianna. Don’t you get it yet?” Blake’s eyes sparkle, not with otherworldly silver but with something far more potent. “I will always choose you. I already have.” His lips curve into a melancholy smile and my heart feels like it will break in two.

I finally loosen my grip on the dark emotions I’ve held so tightly since this afternoon. I let myself feel what he feels. The certainty. I grab onto it for dear life. It’s the only thing keeping me from being sucked into a pit of Dart’s crimson blood.

He brushes my cheek with his fingertips. “I know you haven’t made up your mind about any of this.” My skin heats beneath his touch. It’s a stark contrast to the cold air that moves around us.

“What if I can’t stop it? What if I end up killing you? It feels so much bigger than me sometimes. I don’t know if I’ll even have a choice.” I finally admit the truth. To him. To myself.

“You always have choices, Brianna. No one can take that from you. You’re the only one who can decide how this ends.”

How, not whether. “It has to end though, doesn’t it?”

I hate that I even think this now. What if no matter what I choose, all paths are taking me to the same place?

Blake doesn’t say anything at first. He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. Gently, so I feel just the lightest sweep of his lips against my skin. Then he lets his head fall until his forehead rests against my own. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

I bring my hand to his mouth, tracing the line of his lips with my fingertip. His mouth opens, just enough for the tip of his tongue to tease the pad of my finger, sending a shock of fire through my skin until every part of my body is heated through. I trail my finger down his chin to his neck, to the opening at the collar of his shirt. His breath is coming harder, mirroring my own.

Then his hand closes around my wrist, stopping me. “Are you sure?” he asks, as if he can’t feel the answering desire that rages inside me, mixing with his own.

I cover his hand and reach for my bracelet. I undo the clasp and let it fall on the rock. “What do you think?”

His sucks in a breath. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

I close the tiny distance between us until our lips meet. His mouth covers mine, and then we’re lying back on the boulder. The cold stone against my back only serves to intensify the fire inside as we kiss.

I pull Blake closer, my hands wrapping around him, every touch calculated to bring him nearer. I curl a leg around his thigh, pressing, pulling, pushing against him.

The heat of his skin comes through his shirt, and the fabric becomes an intolerable intrusion. He helps me pull the shirt over his head, and it’s my turn to gasp. My fingers slide from his neck to his belly button, forging a tentative path along his stomach. “You know you’re kind of beautiful yourself.”

“You think so?” A dimple appears on his cheek. He kisses me again. A deep kiss that spreads through me until I’m not certain where my craving stops and Blake’s begins. We are of one mind, pushing each other forward, so that for a few minutes at least, we might both be blissfully whole.

“Ahem.”

We both sit up and spin toward the sound. Austin stands just in front of us, his hands nestled casually in the front pockets of his jeans, his lips curved up in a crooked smile. “Mind if I join you?” His perfect accent makes the question sound almost innocent.

Almost.