“You’ve been going easy on me all this time, you big softy,” I said. Gabe looked pissed at my accusation, and I laughed, adding in a singsong voice, “Come on, admit it. You like me.”
Hate would have been a better description of the expression on his face. Healers and Protectors were natural enemies. At best, Gabe put up with me because he loved his brother almost as fiercely as I did. We’d settled on an uneasy truce based on that fact alone. Yet, I could never forget that if not for Asher, Gabe might have killed me the first time our paths crossed. Or worse, I could have ended up bonded to him, the eldest brother, instead of Asher in the natural order of things between our bloodlines.
The idea of Gabe reading my thoughts and using his energy to heal my injuries, freaked me out. I loved Asher, and I’d only just grown used to our connection and the way he could read my mind, fighting it every step of the way since we’d met when I moved to Blackwell Falls to live with my dad three months ago.
Gabe knew the relief I felt bonding to his younger brother instead of him, and whatever he thought about it, he never said. He criticized and bullied me, and I retaliated by teasing him and shoving back. And Asher stood between us, ready to keep us from doing too much damage to each other in the process.
Gabe raised one dark eyebrow at my taunt. “I like you about as much as you like me, I suspect.”
I grinned. “Too true.”
If I believed Gabe had a sense of humor, I might have thought the corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. Thank goodness that was impossible. I couldn’t handle Gabe if he started cracking jokes. Swinging back toward Asher, I punched his arm, hurting my hand more than I hurt him.
“What was that for?”
“You could have told me that Gabe was holding back all this time.” Even with my increased power, he’d taken me down with ease. No way had he been using his full strength in our training before now. Which meant I had more to worry about with the Protectors than I’d realized.
Asher shrugged again. “To what end? Would you rather I have let him break your neck to demonstrate our superior strength?” Before I could punch him again, he grabbed my hand and massaged the bruised knuckle, raising it to his lips. “I happen to like you the way you are, and I’d prefer not finding out what would happen if Gabe harmed you beyond repair.”
Though he kept his tone light, the tension in his shoulders hinted at his true feelings. Despite his loyalty to his family and loved ones, he would fight anyone who hurt me. He’d proven that when Gabe threatened me long ago in a wayward attempt to protect their sister, Lottie.
Sighing, I curved my hand to his square jaw. His messy hair had grown past the collar of his shirt and begged my fingers to run through it.
Asher’s full lips curved, and he opened my palm to press a kiss in it. “You’re doing it again.”
Doing what?
Leaning down, he whispered in my ear, “Thinking about how irresistible you find me.”
Gabe snorted when he heard Asher. Damned superpower hearing. It was one ability that I hadn’t kept when I’d returned Asher’s powers.
“Could we get back to the matter at hand? I have things to do, if the two of you could unglue yourselves from each other.”
Asher and I separated with reluctance. Seeing the way Gabe’s body tensed, I realized the constant hum of my Healer power was hurting him again. Slowly, I raised my mental defenses to protect the Blackwells, blocking Asher from my mind in the process. Caving to the inevitable, I described in detail the increased strength and speed that had been added to my repertoire of healing and sometimes causing injuries. Not immortal like the Protectors or defenseless like the Healers, but something else.
Gabe shot Asher a meaningful look when I finished, and Asher nodded, rubbing his forehead as if a headache had formed there.
Before I could question them, two female voices sounded in the hall outside the gym. Lottie and Lucy were arguing from the sound of it.
“You can’t go in there!”
Despite her protest, Lottie had already given up the fight or my petite, powerless sister would have found herself deposited in the forest outside the Blackwells’ Victorian-style manor in five seconds flat. Lucy proved me right by shoving past her. My sister had not forgiven Lottie for threatening to reveal my existence to the type of Protectors who would have killed me. Neither had Asher, for that matter, and sometimes I felt bad for Lottie. She didn’t want anything to do with me, or the pain I caused her with my proximity. I couldn’t really blame her for that.
My half sister and I couldn’t have looked more different. Where I had my mother’s wavy, dirty-blond hair and our father’s height, blue eyes, and tanned skin, Lucy had my stepmother’s short red curls, petite frame, brown eyes, and pale skin. Her head skimmed my shoulder when we stood next to each other.
Our upbringings had been polar opposites, too. While Dean had started beating me at eleven, Lucy had been protected and safe, ignorant of Protectors and Healers. I’d wanted to hate her when my father moved me here from New York City, but my sister had made that impossible, accepting me even when she found out what I was. She’d even helped me hide the truth from our friends and parents to protect me.
“Seriously, Lottie, get the hell out of my way,” Lucy said.
She strode to Asher and me, ignoring Lottie and Gabe, who terrified her still. The only Blackwell she liked was Asher, and that was because of how I felt about him.
“Hey, Asher,” she said. “Sorry to barge in on you.”
“Not a problem. You’re always welcome here,” he said, acting like my sister showed up at his house every day.
“Remy, you finally got a response to the ad today,” Lucy said. “I thought you’d want to read it right away.”
She held out a sheet of paper, and my hand shook when I took it from her and traced the return e-mail address. My mother had told me that if I ever wanted to reach my grandfather, I should put a death notice for my grandmother in the New York Times. The contact information for a false funeral home would be the key to reaching out to the sender. She’d promised that my grandfather had taught her that code before she left home at eighteen and would respond, but I hadn’t really believed her. She’d lied so often. I’d run the obituary twice, and Lucy had been helping me wade through the e-mail we’d received at the anonymous e-mail address we’d set up.
“Is it from him?”
Asher’s quiet question prodded me to read the e-mail. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but the tears that came to my eyes surprised me. Stunned, I looked up to find Asher and Lucy staring at me with varying degrees of anxiety. Gabe watched from a distance with his usual blank expression.
“Remy?” Lucy asked, rubbing my arm. “What did he say? Does he want to meet you?”
“Not exactly,” I said.
Asher’s relief was palpable. He’d supported my decision to find my grandfather, but not without worry. For good reason. My mother had told me how my grandfather had watched Protectors kill my grandmother, a powerful Healer. I’d inherited my abilities from her, and the Protectors had stolen her energy, trading it for a moment of sensation. The death of a Healer in exchange for immortality, but at the cost of their ability to feel, taste, and smell. The death of a Healer to feel human again for five minutes before the sensation faded, and it was on to the next Healer. Who knew how my grandfather would react when he found out I loved a Protector? That I was half-Protector?
Lucy sympathized with me. “I’m sorry, sis. He doesn’t deserve you.”
Asher’s eyes met mine over Lucy’s shoulder when she hugged me. Even though he couldn’t hear my thoughts through my mental defenses, he knew me. Knew I hadn’t said everything. His hand slipped into mine, his heat warming my chilled skin. The familiar touch sent my defenses crashing to the ground, and he knew the truth as if he’d read the e-mail.
“No,” I repeated. “He doesn’t want to meet me. He wants me to come live with him.”
CHAPTER TWO
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��Like hell,” Asher said.
Looking around the room, I could see that Lucy and Gabe agreed with him. They acted like they supported my decision to contact my grandfather, but when confronted with the reality of the meeting happening, they all wanted me to forget he existed.
The paper crumpled in my hand, as Asher proceeded to outline all the reasons why I should not contact my grandfather again—we had no way of knowing if my grandfather could be trusted outside my mother’s word, and she hadn’t exactly been the most trustworthy person.
Not only had she allowed my stepfather to beat the hell out of me while she drank herself into a stupor, she’d forced me to witness her own beatings. And when I was old enough to heal both of our injuries, she’d hidden what she’d known about me being a Healer, leaving me alone and terrified by my ability. It was only after she died that I’d discovered what she’d known when I found the recordings she’d left on my iPod. Too little, too late.
And my grandfather had no idea she’d passed away.
Nobody gave me the chance to explain that the e-mail had been written to my mother. It had never occurred to me that he’d mistake me for her, thinking she’d placed the ad, but it should have. On top of everything, I would have to tell him his daughter had died at the hands of my stepfather. I opened my mouth to tell everyone this, but then Lucy started in with all the reasons I should ignore my grandfather’s e-mail.
My phone rang, and I gladly answered it when my friend Brandon’s name popped up on the screen.
“Hey, Brand. What’s up?”
“You haven’t forgotten Crimson Chaos is playing tonight?”
Brandon’s band often played at the Underground. We spoke for a few minutes, and I promised to see him later that night.
Irritated and hurt, I told the others, “I have to go.”
“Remy?”
Asher sounded worried, but I just wanted to be alone.
“I’ll see you later.”
Lucy and I left the Blackwells and went home to get ready. The e-mail was tucked into one of the boots in my closet for safekeeping, though I knew my dad and stepmother would never snoop through my belongings. They had no idea what I was, and I couldn’t take the chance they’d discover the truth because I left a letter lying around for them to find.
A crowd of teenagers had already packed into the Underground by the time Lucy and I arrived. From the small stage, Brandon’s band churned out a raw, aching sound that brought everyone to their feet. Bodies crashed into each other on the fingernail-sized dance floor, bouncing off each other in a sweaty mess. With graduation only a few days away, the seniors celebrated the end of the school year in a feverish frenzy, and the lowerclassmen couldn’t help but join in.
I hadn’t told anyone yet, but I’d been accepted into two of the three premed programs I’d applied to. It wasn’t like my dad not to press me for my post–high school plans, but I’d moved to Blackwell Falls in March and we’d only known each other a short time. I think Ben assumed I’d missed my chance to apply for the fall semester. He didn’t know that I’d mailed off my applications months ago. Long before I had to question if college even mattered when every day brought the Protectors closer to my doorstep.
Wanting to forget everything for five minutes, I snaked my way through the crowd with Lucy, until we found a spot next to Greg and Susan on the dance floor. They had their arms around each other, more lost in each other than the music. Lucy and I grinned, delighted that our friends had gone from “just friends” to full-fledged couple. The pretty brunette had crushed on Greg forever before he’d realized he felt the same way about her.
Marina Gilbert, the lead singer of Brandon’s band, jumped up and down with the microphone in her hand. Her short blue hair stood on end, and her eyes looked glazed as if she’d been drinking. What her voice lacked, the rest of the band made up for. Brandon hammered out a solo on his guitar, the lights playing over his pierced ears and the tattooed vines inked on his biceps. Like Lucy and Asher, Brandon had made me feel at home in this oceanside town, even going so far as to teach me to swim so I would be comfortable near the water. Watching him hit his groove, I screamed like a groupie, along with the others.
Hearing my shout, Brandon looked up and grinned when he spotted me. I pressed a button on my phone to light up the screen and waved it over my head like an impromptu lighter. Brandon threw back his head in a laugh.
A body bumped into mine, and strong arms slid around my waist. Asher leaned down to yell over the music, “I should have listened to you. Forgive me for being a jerk?”
The words tickled my ear, and I leaned back into his embrace, letting him support my weight. The warmth spread wherever we touched, and I thought, Of course and I love you and Kiss me.
My feet left the ground, and I found myself anchored to Asher’s side, as he carried me off the dance floor. He pushed his way through the crowd, and his size demanded that people part. I laughed at his urgency and waved to my amused friends. Then we were outside on the club’s secluded patio, and he caught my laugh with his mouth. Asher’s hands grasped my hips and pulled me on my tiptoes so my mouth came flush with his. Full lips pressed into mine, and I sank into the heat, my fingers arrowing through his hair.
Against my eyelids, a fireworks show exploded. I was lost in Asher, and it didn’t register right away that the green sparks were real. We pulled away at the same time, our disappointed sighs mingling. We’d forgotten to put our mental walls up. A side effect of my powers, the green sparks meant my body had set to curing his immortality, a little at a time. Not painful to either of us in these short spurts, but definitely capable of freaking out the innocent bystander who discovered us lighting up the night.
He rested his forehead against mine, a slight grimace curving his mouth down. This had happened before. For some reason—perhaps because of my mixed blood—I affected Asher like no other Healer ever had. He regained the use of his human senses the more time we spent together, the more frequently we touched. And he lost his immortality the more time my body had to heal him. The last time I’d cured him entirely, I’d nearly killed him when my Protector instincts had kicked in and I’d stolen his energy. Returning his immortality had nearly killed me. Kissing like this without our guard up was stupid and reckless and breathtaking.
Longing to diffuse the tension, I said the first thing I could think of. “Oops?”
It worked. His tense body relaxed and he laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and my body where we touched.
“You are far too tempting for your own good. And mine, come to think of it.” His lips returned to nuzzle the corner of my mouth. “I’m adding a new rule. No thinking ‘kiss me’ in the middle of a crowded dance floor.”
I let my head fall back so he could trail kisses from my jaw to my neck. “Uh-uh. No adding more rules. We hardly touch as it is.”
We had a multitude of rules restricting when and how we were allowed to touch. One of us had to stay guarded when we kissed, which left both of us frustrated. These little forbidden tastes of what it would be like to lose control only made things harder.
Asher’s hand slipped from my hip to the middle of my back. His fingers tangled in the long hair at my back, wrapping the waving length around his palm. “Mmm. We always seem to be surrounded by people. This is the first time we’ve been alone in days.”
I tipped my head to meet his gaze. “We’d better make it worth it then.”
“You’re right.” The teasing light that entered his green eyes should have clued me in. His hand grasped mine, and he whirled me away from him in a dizzying spin. “Dance with me, Remy.”
I know what you’re doing, but I’ll let you get away with it. This time. He meant to distract us, to distract me from what we couldn’t have.
We’d never danced together before. Asher had grown up in Victorian England, and I expected his moves to be old-fashioned, especially when you added in the messy, grinding beat of the music drifting from inside the club. Of course, Ash
er surprised me. The boy could seriously move his hips. Breathless and laughing, I let him spin me about the patio, tugging me close and digging into the rhythm. When the music stopped, we swayed together, not wanting the moment to end, and Asher tucked my head into the curve of his neck.
The slamming of the patio door jarred us back to reality.
We stepped apart, glancing about. Marina stumbled onto the patio with Brandon on her heels. Unsteady on her feet, she tripped and had to catch herself on a nearby table.
“Damn it, Rina. You completely screwed up the vocals on that entire last set.”
Brandon sounded furious, as he reached out to steady her. I’d heard rumors that the band was having problems, but he hadn’t mentioned anything.
“Piss off, Brandon. I don’t need you in my face.”
Marina’s words slurred, and I wondered how much she’d had to drink tonight. The club didn’t serve alcohol, but that didn’t mean everyone didn’t find a way to get it.
“You’re drunk!” Brandon yelled at her. “Son of a bitch, Rina. Do you know what a cliché you are? You’re out.”
“You think I care?” she screamed. She stepped forward and raised a fist to hit him. She started when instead she found her wrist clasped in Asher’s hand. She began to sob into his shirt, her rage fading as fast as it had appeared.
I wanted to help. I really did. But something stopped me. The mascara caked beneath her eyes and tracking down her cheeks. The sloppy movements. The uncontrolled outburst of emotion. Marina reminded me of my mother on a binge, and I froze, watching her thin shoulders heave.
After a minute, her crying subsided into a silence filled with the echoes of my past. If I could have shed my skin and run away, people would have found nothing but my pink shell on the patio floor. Brandon sighed and stepped toward Asher. He looped an arm over Marina’s shoulder and tried to peel her away. Her body slackened, and Asher caught her before she hit the concrete.
“Rina!”
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