“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here alone. Not only is that way too dangerous right now, but you’ll try to run.”
“Says who?”
“Says the person who’s known you for almost half of your life.”
The reminder of our past drowns me in a mixture of anger, pain, and hurt. He must sense how I’m feeling, because his expression softens.
“I …” He wets his lips with his tongue, a habit he only does when he has a troubling thought. “I need to find a way for you to trust me,” he mutters more to himself. Then his concern vanishes as a smile rises on his face. “You know what? I think I have the perfect idea. And one that doesn’t require magic.”
“Oh, yeah?” I question with doubt. “And what’s that?”
His grin intensifies before his lips come down on mine.
Chapter Nine
Holy bleeping mother of all dancing rainbow unicorns, Hunter is kissing me.
Hunter’s lips are on mine.
Hunter, the guy I’ve been in love with forever.
Hunter. Hunter. Hunter.
Desire pulsates through me, potent and intoxicating, and the sensation only strengthens when he parts my lips with his tongue.
“Oh, my God,” I groan, my hips rising toward his.
A moan escapes Hunter’s lips, too, as he tangles his fingers through my hair and draws me closer, deepening the kiss.
My heart nearly stops. Dies. Explodes. But in the back of my mind, doubt claws through the lust.
He lied to me. This isn’t the Hunter I know.
It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to break my lips from his.
Panting, I stare up at him, dazed and confused. His eyes are shut, his nostrils flaring as he takes uneven breaths. Then his lips part, and half of me wonders if he’s about to say something wonderful, like how amazing the kiss was. I hold my breath in anticipation.
“Mihi crede …” he utters the start of the trust spell.
Frowning, I line my palm to his chest and shove him off me. He easily rolls over, continuing with the spell.
“I said no magic.” I reach over to cover his mouth with my hand, trying to stop him, but he circles his fingers around my wrist, stopping me, and then hurriedly finishes the spell.
“I didn’t use my magic,” he says, still holding my wrist. “I used our magic, so it’s not so bad.”
“Our magic?” I raise my brows. “Since when do we have magic together?”
“Since we shared magic. It won’t last forever, but we’ll be able to channel each other’s magic through touching.”
“And that required kissing?” Puzzlement hazes through my mind, and not just because I’m all doped up on a sleep spell and kissing Hunter.
He gives a nonchalant shrug. “It was the best way to connect our magic. Or, well, the best way that both of us were willing to do.”
“What do you mean? What other ways are there?” Witches, oh witches, I wish I knew more about sharing magic so I didn’t have to ask these questions.
He presses his lips together to restrain a grin. “By getting more intimate.”
My lips form an o, my cheeks flushing as images of us rolling around in bed, touching each other all over, stream through my mind in slow, slow motion.
An amused smile sprawls across his face. “That blush has got me really curious about what’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours.”
Gah! Curse my stupid blushing.
Taking a measured breath, I collect myself from lusty lust land and wipe the blush off my face. “That wasn’t a blush,” I lie. “My face is red with anger.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to pull off my lie.
“Over what?” he questions with skepticism.
“Over the fact that I’ve been kissed twice this week, and neither of them were actual, real kisses.”
Sadness hints his eyes. “I think you’re—”
I put my finger to his lips, shushing him. “No getting sidetracked. I want to know how you know I might be a hybrid, and why you’re apparently friends with a demon.”
“I’m not friends with him.” His gaze grazes along the inside of my wrist, and I flinch from the light ache. “I’m sorry I gripped your wrists so roughly when we were with him. I just …” He yanks his free hand through his hair, making the strands go askew. “I just panicked, and sometimes I forget my own strength when I’m in that mode.”
“What mode? And panicked over what?”
“Over Carter being there …” He lets his hand fall to his lap as he releases an uneven exhale. “I’ve been avoiding him.”
I’m entirely aware of how he purposefully skipped over my question about his mode. Not to mention, the trust spell courses through my veins with a powerful warning.
“You didn’t answer my first question, and I know you did it on purpose, because the trust spell is going haywire right now.”
He bobs his head back as he blows out a loud breath. “Can that wait until the end? I need to tell you everything else first, before we get to the really bad part.”
I slowly blink, nearly expecting the scene in front of me to vanish. Perhaps all of this is just a dream, like that weird one where I saw Ryleigh. Sadly, though, the ceiling doesn’t melt away like the sky did. My walls, my dresser, the photos placed sparsely around the room, and my four-post bed all stay the same, along with the guilty expression Hunter is sporting.
“Fine, tell me the other stuff first,” I surrender, wiggling my arm as a signal for him to release me.
He only holds on more securely.
“I don’t want to let you go until we’ve gone over everything.”
“Why? You think I’m going to run?”
He nods. “That’s exactly what I think.”
Smart guy.
I don’t say anything further, waiting impatiently to get to this bad stuff he needs to tell me.
He drags out the silence for a maddening amount of time, then finally gives in with a disheartened sigh. “Have you ever heard of the Mystic Willow Bay Society?”
“Vaguely,” I answer warily, wondering where he’s going with this. “But, from what I always understood, it’s an urban legend.”
“Well, it’s not,” he explains with grave reluctance. “It has existed for as long as Mystic Willow Bay has been around, and still exists.”
“Okay …?” I hug my legs to my chest and rest my chin on my knees. “So what if it does? What does some town secret club have anything to do with me?”
He situates himself on the bed in front of me, crisscrossing his legs. “It’s not just a club, Eva. It’s a group of town members who are sworn to protect the town from any impending dangers. The members are chose
n by their strength, power, and from various bloodlines. It was done this way in order to create a lethal group that could, if necessary, eliminate any powerful force trying to bring harm to our community.”
“You sound like you’re reciting from some superheroes’ handbook or something,” I mumble, hugging my knees tighter to my chest.
He shakes his head. “Some of what I just said is from the intro to the Mystic Willow Bay Society handbook.”
I want to laugh at the absurdity, but his dead serious expression kills my humor.
“You act like you’re in this society.”
Reluctance crosses his expression. “That’s because I am. My father is, too.” He stares down at his hands as if they’re the most fascinating things in the world. “So are Ryleigh and her father and mother.”
Time literally stops. Dies. Freezes.
Okay, that’s not true. However, part of me wishes it would so that I don’t have to move forward and ask the next question.
My throat dries, and I force down a swallow. “You said her father. As in, just Ryleigh’s father, and not mine … Does she …?” Another forced swallow. “Is Ryleigh not my sister? Was she just pretending to be because she was working undercover—or whatever the hell it is you’re doing when you pretend to be my friend?”
“I’ve never pretended to be your friend. Was it part of my job? Yes. But you were too easy to be friends with, so there was never any pretending.” His gaze elevates to mine. “You made me really love my job.”
I will not let his words send my stomach into a fit of flutters. I won’t!
Of course, my stomach has its own ideas and goes mad wild, butterfly crazy.
Stupid traitor stomach. What the heck is wrong with me! This isn’t a good thing!
Shoving the flutters down, I glare at him. “So, you’ve been in this society thingy since you were, like, twelve? That seems a little young to be doing that sort of stuff, doesn’t it?”
Remorse flickers across his expression. “I was actually fourteen.”
“But you weren’t fourteen when I met you …” I trail off as he gives me another apologetic look. “You even lied about your age!”
“I had to,” he insists, reaching for me. “It was the best way for me to get close.”