Shaking his head, he pressed back in his chair. “Doing that would create a Ripple. It’s too risky.”
“So what then?” I pushed. I could tell from his ever-guarded expression that he had a plan. That he knew exactly what he was going to do if given the chance. I just had to dig deep enough to get to it, push harder through the wall. “Were you going to try to bring her back from the dead?” I cringed just saying the words out loud. But the Amulet, after all, did have necromancy capabilities.
He shook his head again, slow and calculated.
“Then what?” I leaned in closer, forcing him to keep eye contact with me. “How were you going to do it?”
I could see the unease in his face, the tension in his shoulders. This was his lifeline, his one chance to save his sister. Letting me in meant slicing it wide open to the possibility of interference—of failure.
With his head cocked to the side, he tapped his thumb on the table and watched me, studied me, read me like an open diary. The truth was right there on the tip of his tongue, peeking through like a sliver of sunlight spilling through a crack. I just had to chip at the edges a little more, push a tiny bit harder.
“We can do this together.”
The crack split and acquiescence brimmed through.
“I’m going to bring her into the present,” he said carefully, scrutinizing me as he spoke.
“You can do that?” I asked, shocked by this revelation. “You can just grab people from the past and pop them into the future?”
“Something like that.” He watched my face for any signs of panic or distress. When he found none, he went on. “Once she’s on our Timeline, she only has a limited amount of time.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s coming for her,” he said ominously. “Death is coming whether she’s on our Timeline or hers. The outcome will be the same.” He leaned forward in his chair. “That’s where the Amulet comes in. As long as she’s wearing it, she’ll be protected.”
And there it was. The reason he needed the Amulet.
“But, that’s only a temporary fix to buy us some time,” he went on. “The minute the Amulet comes off, she’ll be a goner and everything we did will be for nothing.”
“So what then? How are you going to stop her from dying?”
His dimples winked at me like the promise of a sweet, painless death. “I’m going to finish what she started. I’m going to recreate the First Rising spell.”
11. RAISING THE DEAD
Skeletal branches tapped against Trace’s bedroom window as the howling wind pushed the trees back and forth, hissing voraciously as though it wanted in. I sat down on the edge of his bed, watching him as he moved around his room.
“The spell has to be modified first,” he continued without missing a beat. He pulled out a change of clothes from his dresser drawer. “I’m not looking to turn her into a bloodsucker,” he clarified, unbuttoning his shirt.
“Don’t you need the Scribes for that?” I asked, staring at his peeking flesh without really meaning to. “Wasn’t that the whole reason she went back to the past with Tessa in the first place?” When they changed the past and stopped Gabriel and Dominic from perishing in a fire.
“I already have them,” he said, dropping his shirt to the ground. “The only thing I’m missing is the Amulet.”
My eyes nosedived after his shirt as I tried to force myself not to look up while processing what he’d just said. “You have the Scribes? How? When?” I sputtered, eyes wide and pinned to the ground.
“Linley got them,” he answered, and I was sure I detected a hint of pride in his tone. “That night with Tessa.”
“She lied to Tessa?” My eyes snapped up to his, and I instantly regretted it. Not because the view wasn’t good—like insanely good—but because I could hardly tear my eyes away from it and stay focused on the grave matter at hand.
“She had to.”
“Did she, um...” His naked upper body was all I could think about. Ridges and edges as sharp as the rugged coastline taunted me with their perfection, daring me to look out at them—to venture closer—but not to touch.
“Did she what?” His head was tilted, his arms flat by his side. He looked like an Adonis without even trying to.
“Did she, um, ever tell Tessa? Like, does Tessa know?” I kicked myself inwardly. Get it together, I scolded myself as I shifted my gaze towards the window to give him some privacy.
Beads of water splattered against the glass, blurring out the outside world as though it didn’t even exist anymore. Sometimes when I was alone with Trace like this, it almost felt like it didn’t.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
His belt buckle clinked.
“What are you doing?” I bounced a glance in his direction just as the edge of his pants slid over his hip bone. My head snapped back so fast I almost got whiplash. “You can’t do that in here!”
He laughed, the sound of it throaty and completely sexy. “Why not? It’s my room.”
“Yeah, but I’m in here with you.”
“So?”
For the love of all that was holy. How was he not getting how inappropriate this was?
His belt buckle made another clink as it hit the floor. “Haven’t you ever seen a naked guy before?”
My heart came to a full stop and then kicked off into overdrive. “Of course I have. I mean, well technically—look, that’s not the point!”
God, was the heating on in here or something?
He laughed again. “Relax, Jemma.” My name slid off his tongue like silk. “I’m wearing shorts.”
I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. Skin. Skin. More Skin. Shorts. Okay, so he was wearing shorts—more like boxer briefs—but at least it was something.
And, oh my wow, was he ever something!
He pulled on his jogging pants and then rolled out his desk chair across from me. “Good?”
“And a shirt please.” Not that I wasn’t enjoying the view, but I had to stay focused, and I knew that would be impossible with Reaper MacSteamy sitting across from me.
“Alright,” he said as he reached over and grabbed a cutoff-sleeve t-shirt from his clean laundry pile. “Satisfied?”
Hardly, but that was precisely the point. “Thanks.”
He flexed back in the chair, his legs spread out wide. “So where were we?”
“You were telling me how you got the Scribes,” I reminded him. “So, basically, you’re all set.”
“Not exactly.” His jaw muscles ticked again. “The Scribes are just a starting point. We need a new spell—one that will make her Immortal without turning her into a Rev.”
“And how exactly are you planning on pulling that off?” I asked with cynical undertones.
He hesitated before answering. “Nikki.”
Just hearing her name gave me heartburn.
“That’s why we’ve been hanging out more,” he quickly added as if defending himself against my unspoken accusation. “She’s been working on a new spell for me.”
I bet that wasn’t all she was working on.
“Is she even capable of doing something like that?” I asked, curious about the magnitude of her witchy powers.
“I hope so.” He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “She’s the one that came up with the spell to hide my trips to the past.”
It made me sick to hear him speak about her. Like her name was vomit and didn’t belong coming out of his mouth.
“So all of this is resting on Nikki’s shoulders?” There was something severely and innately wrong with that.
“For now, yeah.” If he was worried about it, it didn’t show on his face. “Unless you have a better idea.”
I shook my head, but I sure as hell planned on coming up with one. I wasn’t about to put anyone’s life in freakin’ Nikki Parker’s hands. And definitely not my own.
“So that's it.” He shrugged his shoulders with nothing more to offer. “Now you know
everything.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about him having the Scribes in hand and Nikki by his side. The combination seemed lethal and dangerous. “Looks like you have it all figured out,” I noted, leaning back. “All you're missing now is the Amulet.”
He nodded. Studying my face, his eyes turned serious. “I hope you know I never had any intention of taking it from you. I don't know what happens to change that, but it must have been big because the last thing I would ever do is hurt you.”
Without even realizing it was happening, something had changed in me over the course of the evening. The more I listened to him, the more I believed him. I believed he wouldn’t hurt me that way. At least I did in my heart, and for now, that would have to be enough to keep me going.
Trace was on the cusp of something big, something huge, and there were only a few minor obstacles standing in the way of it. Namely, the missing Amulet. Either way, the fact still remained. One way or another, if he was going to resurrect his sister from the dead, he needed that Amulet.
The more I heard, the more I was certain that future Trace had found a way to fill in the missing piece once and for all. By taking the piece right out of my hands.
But then, why travel back in time to do it? Why not just take it from me in the future? Did I no longer have the Amulet?
Or was I no longer around to take it from?
12. HEARTSONG
As soon as I was up to speed on Trace’s plans for Linley, I tried to make a quick exit with the lame excuse of a last-minute homework assignment. I was literally on my feet and about to head out the door when Trace said something funny about Mr. Bradley’s almost-see-through dress shirts. I couldn’t help but laugh. And then I joked about the way he combed his hair over the bald spot on his head, and we both laughed. And suddenly, I’d forgotten I was supposed to be leaving.
It was always that way with Trace. Time seemed to just melt away from me when I was with him. It didn’t matter where I’d been, or where I had to go. When we were together, it was the only place I wanted to be.
“How have you never heard of this band before?” he asked some time later, aghast by my admission. His electric blue eyes locked on me like a beacon of hope.
“I haven’t exactly had time to sit around and discover new music lately,” I pointed out.
“True.” He studied me for a moment and then smiled, dimples blazing. “I think you’re going to like it. I mean, I hope you do.” The way he said it made it sound like he had a real stake in it.
I watched curiously as he flipped through his playlist and then plugged the MP3 player into the dock before grabbing the remote control on his way back. He flopped back on his bed and propped a pillow up behind his head.
“Come here,” he said, gesturing for me to get closer.
“That's okay, I’m good here,” I said, waving him off as I hunkered down on the corner of his bed.
“Come on, I don’t bite.”
“I know,” I said, but the truth was, I was afraid to get too close to him. I still didn’t trust myself enough to risk the proximity.
He seemed confused. “Are you scared of me or something?”
“No.” I swallowed the lump of nerves at the back of my throat. “Of course not,” I said. But that wasn’t entirely the truth, and we both knew it.
“We’ve been alone like this before.”
“I know.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I know,” I said, more firm this time.
“So stop playing and come here. I’m not starting the song until you do,” he baited, interlocking his fingers behind his head—which consequently, highlighted the bulky muscles in his arms rather nicely.
I wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, but I suddenly felt inspired to move. I scooched down closer and carefully laid myself down next to him.
His dimples exploded on both sides in victory. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Define bad,” I sassed, refusing to give him the full satisfaction.
Laughing, he picked up the remote from his lap and hit play. Thick, black lashes lowered over his eyes like a curtain; his jaw set in a line of anticipation.
I tried not to watch him—not to stare at him so damn hard, but it was like trying not to look at a shooting star.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“I’m not closing my eyes.”
“Just humor me for me a minute.” His pleading eyes were damn near impossible to turn down. “Please. Close them.”
I closed my eyes.
The music started; a steady, soft drum beat, lulling and poignant like the strum of a loving heartbeat.
Already I liked it.
“This is my song to you, Jemma.” His eyes were turned away from me when he said it, like he didn’t have the nerve to say the words and face me at the same time.
And, now I loved it.
My breath hitched as the lyrics begun. Soft, careful promises of love danced in my ears, taking me away to a place I’d never been, but always dreamed of going. It was the happily-ever-after to a story I desperately longed to live. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop listening. I couldn’t risk missing a single beat. All I wanted to do was stay right where I was—to live and breathe this moment with him forever.
“What do you think?” he asked as the song came to the end, his voice twisted with uncertainty and hope.
I tried to steady my breathing, to compose myself. “I love it. I’ve never loved a song more in my entire life.”
His hand slipped into mine, and I shivered from the connection as he laced our fingers together. It felt right like this with him—flawless—just like the last time we’d been here.
Only it wasn’t like the last time. Sadness seeped into my heart, weighing it down with pain and grief. So much had happened since then. So much hurt.
“I wish I could take it away for you,” he said, turning over to face me. The wounded look in his eyes told me he knew he was the one that put it there.
“I do too,” I said, wishing he could make all of it go away; all the hurt and pain, and the mind-twisting memories of that night at the church.
“You think you’ll ever be able to forget it?”
“I don’t know,” I said simply, because it was the truth. “In my heart, I know it wasn't really you, but it's hard to erase the image of you walking away from me.” That picture had seared itself into my mind like a third-degree burn. The scars were painful to touch and hideous to look at.
He moved in closer. “Will you let me try to erase it?” His voice was a husky whisper, hot in my ears.
I swallowed my butterflies, unable to formulate an actual response. Instead, I veered my eyes to the ceiling. The plain, white ceiling. It was safe to look at. Trace wasn’t.
His hand came up to my cheek and steered my face back to his so that I had no choice but to look at him. His iridescent blue eyes ran all over my face, taking in my features as though he wanted to memorize them.
“I already have,” he said, answering my thoughts as though we had always been this way, easy and natural. “I've memorized every inch of you and I still find something new every time I look at you. Like this freckle right here,” he said, touching his finger to the top of my lip. “It’s my new favorite.”
My heart raced in my chest as he wet his lips and began inching closer to me. I knew exactly what that meant, and all I could do was watch with anticipation as he closed the gap.
In the next second, his mouth was pressed against mine, sending my entire body into a state of euphoric exhilaration. Sparks ignited all around me, crackling against my skin like a full-blown electrical storm.
It didn’t seem fair that I felt this way when I was with him; that my body reacted this way without my consent. After everything that happened, and everything that had yet to happen, my heart still felt the same way. It was confusing, and trying, and all-encompassing, and I knew it would devour me whole if I let it. If I didn’t stop it from t
aking over again.
“I'm sorry.” I pulled back from his warmth. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Jemma.” He licked his lips, savoring my kiss with his tongue.
The sight of it made my head swarm. It took everything I had not to dive back into him; not to let the billowing heat lure me back into his inferno.
“I have to go.” I hurdled myself off the bed before I had a chance to change my mind.
“What? Wait.” He jumped up and rushed after me. “Hang on a second,” he said, grabbing my hand and spinning me back to him as I tried to open the door. In one dizzying move, he kicked the door closed with his foot and leaned me back into it.
My heart somersaulted in my chest as he eliminated the space between us, leaving nothing there but the thin fabric of our clothing. And it wasn’t nearly enough to quell the heat.
“Where are you going?” His breath tickled my lips as he spoke, tantalizing and inviting in every way.
“Home,” I answered, watching as his mouth twitched a small frown. “I have to go home.”
“It’s still early.”
“What time is it?” I asked, as if it remotely mattered.
“No idea.”
“Then how do you know it’s early?” I asked and then immediately gasped as he pressed himself against me. Thigh to thigh, chest to chest, pounding heart to pounding heart.
“I just know.” His eyes sparkled an illicit invitation I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to decline. “Stay with me.”
My knees trembled, threatening to take me down. Trace instantly sensed my weakness and tightened his hold on me.
“I can’t,” I said, twisting out of his grip. “It’s too soon, Trace. I...I’m sorry.” I pushed him back a step to open up the space between us. I couldn’t think straight with him standing that close to me—and that was precisely the problem.
His hands dropped.
“There’s too much going on right now,” I tried to explain. My head was all over the place, bouncing from Taylor and Engel to the Amulet and Morgan’s vision, and then all the way back again. And I still had to figure out where the Amulet was. “I need time to make sense out of everything that happened and figure out what it all means. I have to be careful,” I added quietly.
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