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A kiss.
Who did I kiss? What hurt me like this? I feel as if a truck rolled over me, my magic flaring like a river overflowing its banks, rivulets drenching the air, calling the animal in me.
Ophelia. I kissed Ophelia—she kissed me—her hands pressing on my face, her magic pulling on mine—
Bile rises in my throat. I push myself to get up, to walk to the window and back, restless, shaking, my anger rising and falling like a wave crashing against a wall. What the fuck is going on with me?
Why am I with Ophelia? Why do I let her kiss me?
A yank on my already frayed magic makes me stagger, grab the headboard for support. Because you love her, a voice in my head tells me and strangely it doesn’t sound like mine. She is the one you want, the one you trust. Your savior.
Right. Right…
A bang sends my room door shaking in its hinges and I jerk. Goddamn, I need to get my wits together.
“Fuck off!” I snap.
“Ash, open the door.”
“Emrys?” I blink. Why would Emrys be banging on my door? Did something bad happen? I should be worried about something, a whisper tells me, about someone, but I can’t remember who.
It’s enough to get me moving, though. I open the door—it was unlocked, strangely, and I can’t recall how I got into my room, into my bed—and stare at the demon boy. He’s leaning against the wall by the door, his spiky hair defiantly high, that thin braid resting against his temple, his corded neck. It draws my eyes to his shoulders, the muscular arms folded over his broad chest, the long, strong lines of his body.
“There you are,” he says, breaking me out of my contemplation.
“Rys. What are you doing here?”
“You resisted her enchantment,” he says, tipping his head back, gazing at me from under his lashes. They’re ridiculously long for such a bad-ass boy. His dark eyes glimmer.
I rub at my forehead, phantom pain chasing its way through my veins. “What enchantment?”
He tsks, pushes off the wall, and stalks past me into my room. “We have to talk.”
I follow him back inside stiffly, close the door and lean on it. “Talk about what?”
“The enchantment.” He stops beside my desk and turns to face me. “Lock the door.”
“There is no enchantment. I’d have sensed it. Who would put one on me anyway?”
“Not only on you. On us.”
“Us? Who would do that?”
“Ophelia.”
I scoff. “Why would she? I—”
“Listen, man,” he says, “you’re the newest addition to her collection. She’s probably paying more attention to you right now, until she’s sure you’re fully entrapped. But filter out the noise, Ash. Push away the fucking cobwebs and use that brain you’re so proud of. Sort through what you feel.”
A painful kiss sucking me dry—fingers pressing into my cheekbones, a calm lake with monsters lurking under the dark surface—another girl in my class, gazing at me, giving me hope, I—
“Every time I try,” I say through gritted teeth, “it fucking hurts.”
“Ah. Yeah. That’s the nature of the spell. Doesn’t let you think bad of her, or think of the other girl—no, don’t think of the girl’s name, Ash, don’t—”
“Mia…” Ow dammit. I slide down to the floor, shaking, as her name flashes in my mind like a broken sign. “What the fuck.”
“Don’t think about her. Look at me.” Suddenly he’s right there, crouching in front of me, a hand landing on my shoulder, heavy and reassuring. “Focus on me, Ash.”
