"That's not how the bet works," he protested, though his eyes were dancing with amusement. "Neither of us chickened out."
"Then I guess you'll have to buy me coffee anyway," I grinned. "As a thank-you for saving your life."
"I'm pretty sure I saved your life," he chuckled.
"I'm pretty sure we all saved each other," Milo interjected reasonably. "So maybe we all buy each other coffee?"
We laughed, the sound carrying away some of the tension of the day. As we reached the car, I noticed Milo hanging back slightly, his expression thoughtful.
"Everything okay?" I asked quietly.
He glanced toward Zane, who was checking the car for any signs of tampering before we got in. "Do you think it's weird that I've never been with anyone?" His voice was so soft I almost didn't hear him.
Before I could answer, Zane turned, having apparently overheard despite Milo's attempt at privacy. He approached slowly, his expression gentle.
"No," he looked directly at Milo. "It's not weird at all. But I'd be happy to change that, if you wanted."
Milo's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a brilliant red as he stammered incoherently. I bit my lip to hide my smile, watching the normally confident necromancer reduced to blushing incoherence by Zane's direct approach.
As I observed them, feeling the tension spark between them like electricity, a realization hit me with startling clarity. Oh no. I was in trouble. Because watching them might have been more dangerous to my heart than the prophecy.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Winter
I'd been staring at the same spot on the ceiling while Zane drove. My body ached from yesterday's adventure in the factory, but I refused to let it show. The Bureau-issued SUV hummed smoothly beneath us, its magically warded frame providing a false sense of security as we headed toward headquarters for what Fenric had called a "routine check-in."
Nothing about my life was routine anymore.
"You're quiet," Zane's mismatched eyes briefly flickered to me before returning to the road. "Usually you'd have made at least three sarcastic comments about Bureau protocols by now."
I shrugged, wincing as the movement sent a sharp pain through my shoulder. The prophetic markings on my skin pulsed in response, a gentle blue glow visible even through the sleeve of my sweater.
"Just tired," I lied, staring out the window at the passing scenery. "Near-death experiences take it out of you."
Zane's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Yesterday shouldn't have happened. We should have waited for backup."
"And miss out on all that quality time in a magical death trap?" I forced a smile. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
He didn't smile back. The tension between us had been building since we left the apartment, a strange electricity that had nothing to do with my prophetic powers and everything to do with the way his eyes lingered on me when he thought I wasn't looking.
"How's your arm?" He broke after a moment of silence.
I instinctively touched my sleeve where the blue markings crawled beneath the fabric. "Fine."
"Winter."
The way he said my name, soft but insistent, broke through my defenses. I sighed, rolling up my sleeve to reveal the glowing symbols that now covered my arm and snaked up toward my shoulder and onto my chest.
"They're spreading again," I shrugged. "After yesterday's excitement."
Zane frowned, concern etching lines around his eyes. "You should have said something."
"And what would that accomplish? More tests? More Bureau doctors poking and prodding me like I'm some kind of science experiment?" I pulled my sleeve back down. "No thanks."
The car fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I could feel Zane's worry like a physical weight, pressing against my chest. He cared, I knew that. They all did, in their own ways. But caring couldn't stop what was happening to me.
