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“Why would you ever be scared of me seeing you in a bathing suit?” I ask, allowing my eyes to travel the length of her body and dance over her curves. From the moment we met, I could think of nothing better than seeing her in as few clothes as possible.

Resting her palm on her chest, she says, “The A.M.A. mark. Remember?”

My nostrils flare. I’m glad Kole covered it before I laid eyes on it. It’s bad enough knowing what Johnny did to her, seeing the physical proof might have sent me over the edge.

“No excuses now, though,” I whisper, biting her earlobe softly.

Brushing past us, Luther snaps, “We’re not here for a trip down memory lane. We need to shield the lake and the falls, then get set up in the caves.” He heaves his pack from his shoulders and ditches it on the ground.

Kole, who’s been carrying Mack’s stuff as well as his own, does the same. His shoulders are big but that doesn’t mean they’re not aching with the effort of carrying twice the load. “Mack, can you help with the shield?” he asks.

The professor is sitting down on a large, overturned tree trunk. I’ve often wondered how it got here because it seems too perfectly placed to have occurred naturally. He leans onto his thighs and breathes out heavily. Then he pushes himself to his feet and says, “I’m good. Let’s get this place locked down.”

Just as we did in the woods around the cabin, we spread out and cast the shielding incantation. After the events of the past few days, it takes a lot out of all of us. Mack in particular looks gray around the edges, and Nova’s cheeks flush with the effort.

Glancing at the sky, Luther says, “Who wants to take first watch on the cliffs?”

Kole immediately volunteers. I can sense The Hunger quivering around him. Ever since Nova started trying to push him out of her head, and her heart, he’s been struggling to fight The Hunger back. It’s like the blood bond between them was the only thing keeping it at bay. But now the bond is stretched and permeable, letting fragments of hunger filter into his soul once more.

“We’ll switch at midnight,” Luther says. “Six-hour shifts.”

Kole nods and stalks away without looking at Nova.

She watches him leave. I don’t need to search her aura to know she’s pining for him just as much as he’s pining for her.

“You can’t keep him at arm’s length forever,” I tell her. “It will make you sick. Denying the blood bond—”

“Fuck the bond,” she snaps.

The force of her words, and the anger that vibrates around her as she speaks them, surprises me. Usually, she’s so in touch with others’ emotions she could almost be an empath herself. But perhaps her grief is clouding her thoughts.

“Nova…” I’m about to tell her I need to talk to her about something when Luther catches my eye.

“The caves,” he barks. “Show us the way.”

I breathe in slowly, then reluctantly pace out in front.

Luther knows what I want to do, and he’s as against it as Kole. So, screw the vote. It’s not up to them anymore. It’s up to me and Nova. It’s her blood and my mind, and therefore it’s our decision.

As indignation flares in my stomach, I vow that as soon as we have settled in the caves, I will tell her. I’ll tell her that I want to use her blood to find Sam, but there will be no group vote as the others suggested. She will have the only vote. She alone will decide whether we try to find her brother.

21

NOVA

The sound of the falls echoes in my ears as we press ourselves to the rocks and slowly edge beneath them. Tanner seems completely at home here; his movements are more relaxed, his smile is brighter, his body more agile.

The caves behind the waterfall are larger than I expected. The first is damp and loud but the second, which we reach through a small narrow tunnel, is quieter and dry enough to light a fire.

“Magick fires only,” Tanner says, gesturing to the stone ceiling above our heads. “Nowhere for the smoke to escape.”

Luther obliges, waving his hand and casting a large glowing fire in the middle of the cave. Then he sets about unfurling sleeping bags and unpacking our meager food supplies.

Next to the fire, Mack seems a little less uncomfortable. “How are your scratches?” I ask him, pressing the back of my hand to his forehead to make sure he doesn’t have a temperature.

“They’re much better, Little Star,” he says. “Thanks to your nursing. A good night’s rest and I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

“Good as old, you mean,” Tanner quips, punching him lightly on the shoulder before fishing some more pink pills from his pocket and telling Mack to swallow them.