I felt a tug at my heartstrings—a dazzling spark of hope that lit up my insides like a Christmas tree. “You had a vision about it?”
“No. I had a conversation about it.” She dropped her blush brush into the makeup case and tossed it into her bag. “He’s my friend. I don’t need a vision to know what he feels.”
She grabbed her purse from the counter, draped it over her shoulder and walked out of the washroom, leaving me spiraling with even more questions than I started out with.
9. THE COMPANY YOU KEEP
The lunch bell blared through the speakers, prompting me out of my seat so fast even Taylor would have been impressed. Tossing my books in my locker, I discarded the lunch I had no appetite for and headed straight for the library, fully intent on hiding out among the cobwebs and books for the remainder of the hour. I may have made some progress with Trace this morning, but sitting across from him at the lunch table for the next hour wasn’t a part of my plan.
Pushing through the doors, I smiled at the librarian eating her lunch at the counter, and then took off for the deepest corner of the library. Pacing slowly down the aisle, my hand swept across the book spines as I browsed the titles. I wanted to find a book to escape into, something to lose myself in for the next sixty minutes, but I wasn’t sure there was one thick enough to erase my reality.
Reading hadn’t always been my thing. Back in Florida, I always preferred being out with friends to being alone with myself. Shopping, cheerleading practice, pep-rallies; that was my thing. As superficial as it may have seemed, it filled up the silence around me—the void from my non-existent mother, and my too-far away sister—and I loved every minute of it.
All of that changed after I watched a vampire murder my father in cold blood, and consequently, landed myself in the hospital. Lucid conversations and social mixers weren’t exactly an option anymore, but reading always was. It quickly became my way out; my escape from captivity. I didn’t have to live inside my pain anymore. I could live inside my books, each one taking me further and further away from the barred windows that held me prisoner.
I heard muffled voices at the front of the library. I peeked over a row of books and saw Trace talking to the librarian. He nodded, flashed a dimpled smile, and then arrowed his eyes in my direction. I took a hasty step back as if I’d been caught watching something I shouldn’t have seen. Composing myself, I peered back over the books at him.
He was walking now—moving straight for my aisle.
I snatched a random book from the shelf and flipped it open. I read two lines (something about an Alpha werewolf) and tried to put it back, but it was too late. The book fumbled out of my hands as Trace rounded the corner.
Our eyes met, and I swallowed hard.
He glanced down at the book on the floor and then calmly walked over to me. Bending down, he picked it up, flipped it to the front cover and then looked back up at me under dark, fanning lashes.
“Interesting choice.” The tantalizing depths of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“I like to keep it interesting,” I said, staring down at him casually as though looking into his eyes after what he’d done to me wasn’t torturous in every sense of the word.
He handed the book back to me and straightened out. “So you’re talking to me again?” he asked. His voice was low, like the books were alive and he didn’t want them to hear us.
Working hard to keep steady eye contact, I nodded.
“Really?” He took a hopeful step closer. “So you believe me then?” His dark brows pulled together making his eyes look like two drops out of the bluest ocean.
I tried not to get swept up in the waves.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” I wanted to believe Morgan. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him more than I wanted to be alive because every breath I took without him was shallow and suffocating. “I wish I could trust you again,” I admitted quietly, sliding the book back in its place. I needed someone on my side now more than ever.
His jaw muscle pumped. “I would never hurt you.”
“You say that now, and maybe you even mean it, but something changes because you did hurt me. It already happened.” Visions of him walking away from me that night sliced through my mind like taunting reminders of what we’d become. I could feel my eyes well up as the burn at the back of my throat intensified. I didn’t want to cry—I didn’t even want to care, but it seemed to be out of my control.
Seeing the agony on my face, he immediately erased the gap between us. I wanted to step back and keep the space alive, but my legs—my heart—couldn’t bear the strain of separation.
“How do I fix this, Jemma?” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “How do I fix something I didn’t break?”
“I don’t know,” I said, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure this could ever be fixed.
Pain flashed through his eyes.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I whispered, realizing he’d been listening in.
He looked away as he tried to conceal the hurt that was already written all over his elegiac face. When his gaze met mine again, his eyes were harder, more determined. “Tell me what to do, Jemma. Tell me what I have to do to prove myself to you. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
My hands trembled as I tried to contain all the emotions funneling through me. “Are you sure you mean that?”
“Try me,” he dared, wetting his lips.
“I want the truth, Trace. About everything.”
“I told you the truth,” he said confidently.
“No.” I shook my head and clarified. “I want to know the truth about your trips to see Linley. I want to know about the vision, and about you and Nikki. I want to know all of it.”
“There is no me and Nikki,” he affirmed, clenching his jaw. “And I don’t want to talk about my sister.”
“But you said—”
“Why does it matter to you?” he cut in quick as a knife. “What does my sister have to do with us?”
“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know, but that’s the point. Maybe it’s related. At the cabin, you said you were trying to find the Amulet for her,” I recalled.
“So what?”
“What were you going to do with it once you found it? If you tell me what you were planning, maybe it could help us figure out where it is now, or at least understand why your Alt would want to take it.”
He shook his head. “I can’t risk it.”
“But you can risk me?” Feeling the hurt prickle through me, I pushed his arms down and took a step back.
“Don’t you get it? Involving you is risking you. It’s risking all of us.” His jaw muscles popped. “I won’t do that. The less you know, the better. This is the way it has to be.”
“You don’t get to make all the decisions, Trace. You don’t get to play God with my life—with Taylor’s life!” Anger slashed through me, firing off my mouth. “I’m getting that Amulet back one way or another. Either you help me get it or stay the hell out of my way.”
“You won’t find it.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it resonated in my ears like a gong. “Even if you figured out where it is, you can’t get there.”
“Why not?” My eyes narrowed, suspicion reigning again.
“For starters, you can’t time travel,” he pointed out smugly. “And secondly, if my Alt went back in time to get it, that means it’s now in the future. And since I can only travel backwards, you’re shit out of luck.”
Panic set in, making my skin crawl with unease. “There has to be another way,” I said, racking my brain. “Maybe it’s in the past again. Tessa said Linley was trying to recreate the First Rising spell—”
“Leave it alone, Jemma.” There was a definite edge to his tone, but I wasn’t about to give up that easy.
“That’s not going to happen, Trace.” I had to make him see it my way. I had to appeal to his sensibility. “If Linley’s the reason you wanted the Amulet before then
she’s probably still the reason you’d want it in the future.” I glanced over the row of books to make sure we were still completely alone. “We need to go back and talk to her. She might know what’s going on. She might be able to help us—”
“That's not happening,” he cut in before I could finish pleading my case.
“Why not?” I asked, and then it dawned on me. “You’re still helping her, aren’t you?”
“She doesn’t know anything,” he said, ignoring my accusation. “If she had the Amulet, I would know it.”
“You can’t expect me to just drop it. This is the only lead I have.” Frustrated, I shook my head at his lack of cooperation. “Taylor’s still out there. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“Of course it matters,” he said, his head dropping down a notch. “Just not as much as my sister does.”
My conversation with him in my bedroom came back to me. He had confessed that he would do anything to save his sister...even if that meant sacrificing innocent people.
Apparently that included Taylor and me.
I needed to switch gears and get him back on my side. “No one has to be left behind, Trace. If we work together, we can save them both,” I said, desperate for his concession. I wasn’t sure that was even a possibility, but I had to put it on the table. Taylor’s life was depending on this and I wasn’t about to hold anything back.
He didn’t answer.
“So I guess you were just lying when you said you would do anything.”
His eyes hardened. “This isn’t a game, Jemma. If the Council finds out—if they even suspect anything—you’ll be banished. And I’ll be Bound, or worse.” He took a step towards me. “Is that what you want?”
“No.” I took a step back, but he quickly matched it.
“Then stay out of it.”
“I can’t do that.” I swallowed hard as he closed the gap. “You already involved me. You. Future you. Same difference.”
His dimples pressed in as he tensed his jaw.
“If you care about me at all, you’ll tell me the truth about Linley,” I said, retreating slowly down the aisle as my chest rose and fell at his mercy. “You’ll tell me what you know, and you’ll help me get the Amulet back.”
“And what’s in it for me?” he asked, forcing me further back as he studied my face. His eyes settled on my mouth. “What do I get in return?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What do you want?”
“You.”
My back hit the bookshelf.
“I want you, Jemma.” He grabbed the shelf on either side of me and leaned in. “All of you. Just like before.”
My face flushed red. I could hear my heart beating—pumping so hard I thought it might punch a hole through my chest.
“What about the vision?” I blurted out because it was the only thing I thought might actually slow him down.
“That’s my problem.” He moved in closer—so close I could feel the heat emanating from his body. It was as close to the sun as I’d gotten in weeks.
“Morgan told me everything.”
“Good for her,” he said, staring at my mouth as though he wanted to paint a portrait of it, to devour it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t think it mattered.” He shifted again, erasing any semblance of space between us. “I wasn’t planning on falling in love with you.”
I pushed back against the bookshelf, but there was no room left to retreat. “And now?” I asked, working hard to keep an even tone as I fought away the urge to wrap myself in the intoxicating scent of his spicy cologne. “Where does that leave us?”
“Right where we are.”
My lips parted, but no words came out. I knew I had more questions—more thoughts, but I couldn’t seem to make enough sense of them to get anything out.
And definitely not with him standing this close to me.
“You’re everything to me, Jemma,” he said, still staring down at my mouth. “I need you to believe me.” He moved in to kiss me, but I stopped him right before he connected.
“Prove it, Trace.”
He licked his lips, his eyes never straying from my mouth. There was a war raging behind his eyes, a battle of opposing wills, and I had no idea which side was going to win.
I bit my bottom lip in anticipation.
Heat flashed through his eyes like molten rock. “Fine. You win. I'll tell you everything you want to know.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
The last thing I cohesively remembered was Trace’s mouth as he lowered it to mine and kissed me with the heat of a thousand broiling volcanoes.
10. GAME CHANGER
Trace and I met up later that evening as planned. Our steamy make-out session in the library (while a pleasant distraction) hadn’t derailed me one bit. In fact, I was as determined as ever to get the Amulet back and bring Taylor home, and with Trace finally willing to answer my questions, I was beginning to feel like I had an actual chance of making it happen. He had the answers I needed, and I was ready to do everything in my power to get them.
I was done taking things at face value—I’d already learned my lesson the hard way—and I refused to accept anything less than full disclosure.
From him, that is.
On my end, I was still planning on keeping Dominic my dirty, little secret for as long as I needed him to be. He was my backup plan, my safety net, and I wasn’t about to screw that up for myself. Besides, chances were, I’d probably need someone like Dominic on my side when it came time to square off against Engel. The last thing I wanted to do was burn that bridge.
The rain had finally tapered off into a light drizzle by the time Trace and I pulled up to his house. All the lights were off, and the driveway was empty, making the house appear daunting, almost haunted, as it blended into the starless night.
“Where’s your dad?” I asked as I stepped out of the blue Mustang and cast a glance at him over the roof of his car.
“Business trip.”
“Oh. Okay, cool.” I wasn’t sure it was such a great idea being here alone with Trace like this, but I couldn’t seem to summon the words to object to it.
Once inside, we headed straight for the kitchen. As per the rest of the house, it was spacious, clean, and had all the trappings of a well-cushioned lifestyle. Stainless steel appliances and charcoal-colored granite countertops topped off the dark wood cabinets like an exclusive price tag.
“You hungry?” he asked, flicking on the lights. “Training always made me hungry.”
“I’m starving,” I admitted, pulling out a dark leather chair at the kitchen island.
He yanked open the double-door refrigerator and started digging around inside before resurfacing with an armful of food and condiments. He set his pickings down on the counter and got to work.
“How long did you train before you quit?” I asked, realizing I didn’t know much about his time with the Order.
“Officially? From eleven to seventeen.”
“And unofficially?”
“Since as far back as I can remember.” He spread some mayonnaise on a slice of bread. “As soon as I really understood what I was, it was the only thing I wanted to do.”
I thought back to myself at that same age. It was a stark contrast. At eleven, I was still playing with dolls. At fifteen, I was headed to nationals with my cheer squad, completely oblivious to what I was and the hidden world around me. My life revolved around pep-rallies and obsessing over the exact moment when my first kiss would happen. It all seemed so much smaller now, so trivial, and yet, if I was completely honest with myself, a part of me still longed for it.
“Do you ever regret leaving the Order?” I asked. “I mean, now that you know they weren’t keeping the Amulet from Linley.”
He shook his head. “They didn’t have the Amulet, but they knew how to get it. And they knew about the Scribes.” I could hear the anger building in his voice. “They have all th
is power—all these beings with the ability to make things happen, to stop things from happening—and they do nothing with it.”
“But maybe there’s a reason,” I offered. “Maybe they know better than to intervene.”
“Or maybe they’re just weak.” He slapped on a few slices of ham and cheese and then topped it off with another slice of bread. “Maybe our lives aren’t valuable enough to them. Maybe they don’t think saving one is worth the effort.”
I could see the vexation in his eyes, icy and sharp like a slow-building storm. I knew better than to play there.
He sat down at the island and slid my plate over to me.
“Thanks.”
“What about you?” he asked, biting down into his sandwich. “What do you make of them?”
“I don’t know,” I said, covering my mouth as I chewed. “I haven’t been around them long enough to know whether I can trust them or not.” All I had is what people told me, and that wasn’t very much at all. “Gabriel says everything is fated—predestined on the Paradigm.”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the point in trying to change something that will always be no matter what you do?”
“What if that’s not true?” he challenged. “What then? Gabriel himself is proof that the past can be changed.”
“Yeah, but he cheated the Paradigm by dying and coming back as something that isn’t even human.” Or technically alive for that matter.
“Exactly.” His dimples flashed briefly as he swallowed. “There’s a hole there, an opening. If you can cheat your fate that way, who’s to say there isn’t another way—another hole.”
“So how are you going to do it?” I watched him as he devoured the last of his sandwich. “How are you going to cheat fate and save Linley from her destiny?”
He looked down at me with apprehension. “I don’t have all the details figured out yet.”
“But you have an idea, right?” I watched his jaw muscle pop under my interrogation. “You wanted the Amulet for a reason. Were you going to bring it into the past and give it to her? To stop her from dying?”
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