I robotically began eating my stir-fry without really tasting it. If I pretended to be interested in my food, maybe no one would notice I was on the verge of a panic attack. My dad would be here tonight! Calm down, I ordered myself. It was only dinner, and since we’d presumably be in public, he’d have to limit his ranting. It wasn’t like he was going to search my room or follow me around.
And yet, no matter how hard I tried to soothe myself with logic, I couldn’t shake my unease. Palm Springs had become a sanctuary for me, in which I tucked away all my secrets—not just my romance with Adrian, but also my true friendship with the others. And, of course, my illicit magic use. I kept all those things well guarded, but just knowing he would be here, in my territory, made me feel as though my entire life had just been exposed.
“Hey, Neil,” said Angeline abruptly. “You ever staked a Strigoi?”
Considering Jill had just been talking about catwalk lighting, it was kind of a weird subject change. From Neil’s expression, he thought so too.
“Er, well, not a real one.”
“But you’ve had lots of practice on fake ones.”
“Yes, of course.” He relaxed a little, now that he was in familiar territory. “It was a requisite part of our curriculum.”
She brightened. “You think you could give me some pointers after school today?”
Eddie frowned. “We went over that a couple months ago.”
“Well, yeah,” she said, “but I mean, it can’t hurt to get different opinions on it, right?”
“How can there be different opinions on driving a stake through a monster’s heart?” asked Jill. Her face declared she wasn’t a fan of Neil and Angeline spending time together.
“I’m sure Neil and Eddie have different skills,” Angeline insisted.
It was a dangerous comment, suggesting one might be more skilled than the other. The guys’ faces confirmed as much. “I’d be happy to show you,” said Neil, puffing with pride. “You’re right that you might benefit from a different style.”
“I’d be interested in seeing this,” remarked Eddie.
“Me too,” said Jill.
“No.” Angeline shook her head adamantly. “You’d just be a distraction, and this is serious business. Just me and Neil.” From the way she looked at him through her lashes, I wondered what business she had in mind. I grabbed hold of her arm as we were all dispersing for our classes later.
“Why the aggressive move on Neil?” I asked. “You were moping about Trey a couple weeks ago.”
Her face fell. “Still am. Can’t get him out of my mind. So I figure I have to get serious about Neil.”
I didn’t really know how to immediately respond to that. “But you said you didn’t think you could really get into him.”
“That’s why I have to try,” she explained, with a look that said I might not be as smart as everyone claimed. “Because then I won’t think about Trey.”
There was no point in fighting it anymore, and while I was dubious about her romantic methods, I knew her and Trey staying apart was a sound plan. “Well, good luck with that.”
Anxiety about my dad continued to eat me up all day. Although I knew I should stay far away from Adrian today, I couldn’t help myself. As soon as I stepped into Ms. Terwilliger’s room for my independent study, she took one look at my face and smiled. “Go,” she said. “Whatever it is you need to do, go.”
“Thank you, ma’am!” I was moving before I finished speaking.
I headed over to his place and let myself in with my key. He was sitting in his living room, working on an unexpected project. A number of his paintings lay on the ground, and he was carefully cutting them up into pieces. It was enough to momentarily allay the panic over my dad.
“What’s this?” I asked. “Did you hate them all that much?”
He smiled up at me. “Not exactly. I got an idea for the self-portrait. I realized all of these rejects are technically part of me, so I’m going to combine all of them into a collage there.” He nodded up to a canvas on an easel, which already held the remnants of a painting he’d done of his aura.
“You’re bending the assignment a little,” I said, sitting down beside him.
He returned to his cutting. “I’m sure my professor will be so amazed by my brilliance and ingenuity that she’ll want to keep it for herself and hang it above her fireplace. Or maybe her bedroom. Would you be cool with that? Or would that be weird?”
“I guess I could learn to share you,” I said.
“You’re a trooper, Sage.” Setting down the scissors, he turned his full attention on me and raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
I almost smiled at that. Everyone said I concealed my feelings, but he always seemed to know how I felt. “You read my aura?”
I kept my tone light. We’d spoken very little about spirit in the last two weeks, ever since his breakdown at the pawnshop. Thinking about him and the way the magic drove him to such extremes still ate me up inside, but I’d been careful not to nag. He already knew I was worried, and I wasn’t going to bring it up again, unless he did first or I saw a reason. And recently, he’d seemed to be on good behavior. I’d seen no signs of excessive drinking or spirit use. That didn’t mean the problem was gone, of course, but it was a relief to be in calm waters while I tried to puzzle out a way to help him.
“Didn’t need to see your aura.” He tapped my forehead. “You get a cute little frown there when you’ve got something bothering you.”
“Not everything about me is cute.”
“That’s true. Some things are cute. The rest are sexy.” His voice was low as he leaned toward me. “So amazingly, agonizingly sexy that it’s a wonder I can get anything done when all I ever think about is the taste of your lips and the touch of your fingertips on my skin and the way your legs feel when I—”
“Adrian,” I interrupted.
His eyes smoldered. “Yes?”
“Shut up.”
We reached for each other at the same time, and all thoughts of my dad melted away at the crush of Adrian’s mouth on mine. Until him, I had always believed discussions of the periodic table or Latin declension would turn me on. Nope. When I touched Adrian, it was all about him. I came alive in a way I didn’t know was possible and became obsessed with the feel of our bodies wrapped together. I think sometimes he thought I was holding back on sex because I wasn’t ready to cross that physical threshold. But I actually was ready. Believe me, I was. It was the mental threshold that still held me up—the knowledge that once you crossed that line, there was no going back.
And in moments like this, when he laid me back on the floor and leaned over me, I wasn’t sure why I’d ever want to go back. He slid his hand over my leg and hip, then up and under my shirt. There was a confidence in every single move he made, an assurance in knowing exactly how each touch would take me to the edge. His eyes, burning with both desire and urgency, held me as he took in my response, and then he brought his hungry lips back to mine. Meanwhile, my fingers fumbled to undo his buttons, though I didn’t take his shirt off yet. It was just enough to run my hands over his bare chest and feel that warm skin under my fingertips. One day, I’d know what it felt like to have all my skin against his, but when he finally broke off our frantic kissing, I knew today wasn’t the day—especially when he pointed out the obvious.
“Not saying I don’t want to go on,” he told me, voice husky, “but by my count, we’ve got ten minutes until you need to hightail it back to school. Unless . . .” He brightened. “Your sister got transferred?” When I laughed and shook my head, he sighed and eased off me. “Well then, as hard as it is to believe, your mind takes precedence over your body. Tell me what’s wrong.”