“Look, guys. This is going to happen, whether any of us like it or not. We may as well just try to do it right.” I rose, taking my cup as I moved to check the cupboards near the coffee machine. They were a jumbled mess, but the third one yielded an almost full container of sea salt. “Elliot was right.” I put it down on the counter before turning back to Quentin and Connor. “I’ll have all the supplies I need to make this as safe as possible. Connor, I don’t care what Sylvester says. If it looks like things are getting worse—”
“I take Quentin and run. Got it.”
I risked a smile. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be so bad after all. I’d still worry about Quentin, but Connor provided a layer of backup that I’d been missing since leaving Shadowed Hills. All I had to do was keep myself from looking into his eyes long enough to remember why it wasn’t a good idea for me to be alone with him. “Good. Are there any chocolate donuts left in that box?”
“Saved you two,” he said, and grinned.
“Excellent.”
I was halfway through the second donut when Alex came rushing back into the cafeteria, the color high in his cheeks: a man on a mission. “Toby!” he called. “Jan wants to see you.”
“What’s up?” I put my donut down on the counter, then, regretfully, put my coffee down beside it. “Connor, Quentin, wait here. Do notgo anywhere alone. I mean it. If one of you needs to pee, you go together and you leave a note. You got me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Connor, mock meekly, before shooting a glare at Alex. Quentin just snorted.
“I’m taking that as agreement, Quentin,” I said. “Alex, lead the way.”
“Gladly.”
Alex led me out of the cafeteria and down the hallway to a door I didn’t recognize. Not that that meant much; I was learning some of the landmarks, but I’d given up on real navigation. He pushed it open, and I stepped through, onto a patch of lawn shaded by spreading elm trees.
I blinked, first at the lawn, then at Alex. “Where’s Jan?”
“Not here.” He grinned, sunlight slanting down through the trees and sparking highlights from his hair. Then there was no more talking, because he had his arms around my waist, pulling me close as he kissed me.
The first time I kissed Alex, it was a pleasant surprise. The second time was less surprising, if no less pleasant. The third time, it was like someone had just set my hormones on overdrive. I relaxed into his arms, plastering myself against him, returning the kiss with interest. His hands came up, snarling themselves in my hair, pulling me closer still as the smell of coffee and clover rose around us, almost overwhelming the green smells of the outdoors.
Coffee and clover. In my hotel room, I’d taken the smell to be an aftereffect of the illusion that made him look human. Here, standing on the lawn, neither of us was wearing a human disguise. Neither of us was casting any sort of spell at all. So why could I smell magic?
Startled, I pushed myself away from him so fast that I bit my lip, breaking the skin and spreading the taste of blood across my tongue. Alex stared at me, poppy-orange eyes wide in something that looked first like confusion—and then, as my shock and outrage spread across my face, like shame.
“Oh,” he said softly.
“Oh?” His arms were still around my waist. I pushed him again. He didn’t let go. I pushed harder, sending him stumbling into the nearest tree as I took a few rapid, stuttering steps backward. The smell of coffee and clover was getting thicker, hanging in the air like cheap perfume. “What are you doing, Alex?”
“Nothing! I—I’m not doing anything. Come on, Toby. Please.” He held out his hands toward me. “You just need to calm down. Come on over here.”
I wanted to. Oh, oak and ash, I wanted to. It was like a small voice in the back of my head was saying, It’s all right. He’s not a bad guy. You want this as much as he does. You’d have wanted this anyway. Don’t be silly. Just go.
I took a shaky step forward before I caught myself. Biting my lip again, I clung to the hot taste of my own blood like it was a lifeline, and hissed, “You stop that right now, Alex, or I swear you won’t be worrying about mysterious murderers anymore. What. Are. You. Doing?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, eyes going wide and innocent. The smell of clover was cloying, overwhelming the coffee and threatening to overwhelm even the taste of blood.
“You know what I mean. Stop it. I don’t want this.”
“Does it matter? If you feel it, does it matter?” He was almost pleading.
I didn’t care. “Yes!” I balled up my hands, digging my nails into my palms and focusing on the pain. “I refuse to be in love with you!”
“Are you sure?” he asked. He took three long steps, put his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me again.
There was a moment of bewilderment before I realized what he was doing, and by then it was too late. The smell of coffee and clover rose, stronger than ever, and I melted into him, my body refusing to let me do anything else. I was trapped. The worst of it was that I couldn’t figure out who’d betrayed me more—him, by being whatever he was, or me, for being stupid enough to get myself caught. His hands slid down to the small of my back, pulling me closer as the taste of coffee threatened to overwhelm the taste of blood.
It was getting harder to think about anything but kissing him. Dimly, I understood that if this didn’t stop now, it wasn’t going to stop at all. We’d wind up going places I didn’t want to go, and I’d say yes every step along the way.
Mustering what control I had left, I pulled back, only half-pretending the need to catch my breath. He loosened his grip, and I twisted my head to the side until I couldn’t see his eyes before biting down hard on my tongue. Blood filled my mouth, washing away the clover and coffee, and suddenly I could think again.
Alex pulled away from me, sensing the danger in my sudden stiffness, and I shoved him back as hard as I could. For the second time, he went stumbling into the tree; this time, he stayed where he was, watching me warily, not advancing.
“You bastard!” I drew Dare’s knife from my belt, holding it in front of me. I didn’t intend to use it, but I didn’t want him coming near me again. “What are you?”
“Toby . . .” His eyes flicked from me to the blade and back again. “It isn’t . . .”
“Shut up.” Showing an unexpected degree of self-preservation, he did as he was told. I narrowed my eyes. “Now, I’m asking you again. What are you?”
“Scared,” he said, softly. “I’m scared, Toby. I want someone to hold me and say it’s going to be all right. Don’t you want that, too? Just for a little while?”
For a moment, he almost had me. Then I swallowed, blood coating my tongue, and he lost me again. “Not like this. Never like this. Is this some sort of game? Do you and your sister try this routine on everyone who comes here? What kind of glamour are you using?” I was shaking, and not entirely from anger. Part of me wanted to dive right back into his arms, but I wasn’t giving in.
He sighed, seeming to deflate. “It’s not a glamour, exactly. I’m sorry. We can’t help it. It just . . . comes naturally.”
“And the way you act? Kissing me? That comes naturally, too?” Whatever bloodline they descended from, I never wanted to meet a pureblood.
“It does. Toby, believe me, this isn’t something I do to every woman who comes along. I really like you. And—”
“Don’t talk to me. You make me sick. And tell your sister that if she touches Quentin—if she comes nearhim—we’re leaving. Sylvester will understand when I tell him why. You got that?”
Paling, he nodded.
“Just so we understand each other. What are you?”
“Toby . . .”
“What areyou?”
“Please.”
I looked at him for a moment before sliding my knife back into my belt. “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll ask Jan. Now go find your sister and stay with her. I don’t want you anywhere near the rest of us.”