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I nod and, even though he should be the one doing this shit, begin collecting empties from the tables near the back.

The mood is intoxicating.

Before, people came here for a good time. But they didn’t need a good time. Now, every single mage, witch, or vampire who walks through the door is desperate for release. Desperate to feel normal for a few hours. To forget there’s a great big ugly scar down the center of our town, and a darkness that still hasn’t shifted.

To forget that, even though the Bureau insists we’re imagining it, not all the creatures who escaped from Hell returned there when The Split healed.

Over by the jukebox, the water witch Luther used to fuck turns the volume up loud. When she sees me looking at her, she straightens her back, juts out her tits, and licks her lower lip. I go back to picking up glasses and try to focus on Nova.

Where is she?

As if she’s read my mind, the water witch nudges me with her hip and coos, “Where’s your girlfriend this evening? With one of her other conquests?”

Anger pulses behind my canines. I do not look at her.

Then I feel it. A rush of heat. Before I can look up, I hear her voice. The Phoenix. “Get the fuck away from my boyfriend.”

My lips curl into a cocky-ass smile. This time, I do look up. The water witch is tapping her foot, arms crossed, while Nova crackles with heat. Literally.

As she squares up to the witch, sparks flutter into the room and the bar goes quiet.

The witch considers her for a moment then makes a tutting sound with her tongue on the roof of her mouth, tosses her hair over her shoulder, and flounces away.

Nova stares at her until she’s back over by the jukebox, then pivots toward me. As she meets my eyes, her shoulders relax and the heat simmers to a slow-boil. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m finding it hard to control myself these days.”

I put down the glasses and hook my arm around her waist. Fuck, I love how soft she is. The place where her waist curves into her hip. My hand is about to slip lower, and grab her ass in full view of everyone because why the hell shouldn’t I show them how irresistible I find her, when she puts her hands on my chest and looks up into my eyes.

“What happened?” I ask, interpreting the worry that crinkles the edges of her eyes without even needing to try.

Mack and Snow are sick. I don’t think we should talk about it here.

Her voice drips through me, sending a physical shiver down my spine. I take her hand, squeeze, and tug her wordlessly through the crowd.

When the office door closes behind us, Nova glances at the desk. I wonder if she’s thinking what I am, but then I mentally kick myself for visualizing her hiding under there while Tanner and I—

“Kole…” She smiles a little, tweaking her index finger under my chin. “Focus.”

As usual, she knows exactly what I’m thinking without me having to say it out loud. “They’re sick?”

In the bar, someone turns up the jukebox and Jake hollers, “Hey, guys, turn it down,” in a tone that no fucker is going to pay any attention to.

Nova walks over to the desk and leans against it, folding her arms in front of her stomach. She’s wearing a plaid shirt, tucked into a knee-length denim skirt that shows off her waist and her hips. “Mack collapsed outside. We took him to the hospital. Tanner and Sam are with him, but they don’t know what’s wrong.” As she speaks, her words speed up and match the quickening of her pulse.

“Is he conscious?”

She nods, threading her fingers together and squeezing so her knuckles whiten. “But Snow’s not. Barely, anyway. Mack was worried about him, so I went to the cabin. Luther found him on the jetty. We couldn’t move him.”

Dark, inky fear solidifies in my gut. Somehow, Snow being injured hits harder than Mack being sick.

“I called the hospital. Tanner and Sam are coming back now.”

I close the gap between us and brace my hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry. It’s opening night, but could you…”

Before she can finish, I’m striding to the back of the desk, grabbing my jacket and the keys to the bike, and taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

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