Darker Days

steel was comforting.

It smelled like home.

Once I was dressed and heavily armed, I pulled the last item from the closet. An old book of wards Kendra had given me a few Christmases ago. Meredith could work some pretty badass mojo. Anything I could do to negate even a little bit increased our chances. Sure, Valefar had agreed to help free my parents—no matter what game he was playing, he couldn’t go back on his word—but that still left the last three Sins and their innocent rides to deal with. And of course, the queen of crazy herself, Meredith. Something told me Valefar wasn’t going to do any extra work.

“It’s almost time to go,” Lukas said from the doorway.

Moving to my desk, I picked up the chalcedony crystal and stuffed it into my pocket, then pulled out a black Sharpie and opened the book. Tapping the page, I handed the marker to Lukas and pulled my shirt forward.

“You need to draw this on my back.”

He flushed a little, but didn’t question. There was a small pop as the cap came off, and the slight whisper of marker on skin. The cool felt point was an epic contrast to the fiery tips of his fingers as both glided across my back. Round and round, I could almost picture the intricate design taking form. He was an artist and I was his art.

After a few minutes, the tip of the marker lifted, leaving only the warmth of his fingers. They retraced the design, skimming feather light across my back from shoulder to shoulder. Up the back of my neck, then down my spine.

A shiver ran through me, and I tried to turn around, but Lukas stopped me. “Wait,” he whispered, voice sort of hoarse.

The tip of his finger went to work again, this time in specific patterns. Letters. The first one was easy. It started behind my right shoulder.

I

A few inches over, the next.

L

“For the first time,” he whispered. “I feel no regret.”

O

I closed my eyes to keep the tears from spilling. This wasn’t fair. I wanted more time with him.

V

E

“Lukas…” I didn’t want him to finish. It’d only make things harder.

Y

“Shh.”

O

U

I turned to face him. He knew how I felt about the “L” word, so he’d found a way to tell me without actually speaking it. “You’re going back in the box.” A stupid thing to say in the middle of my first, hot, semi-naked moment with a guy, but it was the elephant in the room. The big-with-bells-on, stupid, death row elephant.

“I know. But, I’ve accepted it. You need to do the same.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into him. “Kiss me.”

With a whisper-light touch, his lips brushed mine then pulled away. For a moment, I was sure that was it, that he was done and would leave, but a few seconds later, his warmth returned, and my world exploded.

He spun me around and lifted me onto the desk, hands everywhere all at once. I let my shirt fall to the floor, oddly uncaring that I was sitting up in my room, kissing the hottest guy in existence—also someone technically old enough to be an ancestor—in nothing more than my black sports bra and favorite monster mashing jeans.

Fingers skimmed my bare arms from shoulder to wrist, then back again before trailing up my neck to tangle in the long strands of my dark hair. These kisses were different than before. Greedy. Laced with anger and passion and need. The intensity of it all scared me a little, but more than that, it drove me higher than I ever thought possible.

I wrapped both legs around his waist in an attempt to pull us closer together. No space. I wanted nothing between us. Suddenly, my jeans, his clothing, it all felt too restricting. I made a move to tug at the edges of his T-shirt, but he stopped me, instead capturing my wrists in his hands and tucking them away behind my back.

“No,” he breathed, lips against mine. “Just be still.”

I obeyed, a sharp thrill shooting like electricity through my entire body. I expected him to do the honors himself, but instead, his hands circled my waist again, fingers digging into the skin. I gasped—not in pain, but surprise—and nipped at his bottom lip.

“Just be…” he inhaled sharply, fingers flexing as I trailed a line of kisses down to the hollow of his neck. “… still.”

“We could…” I managed. “I want to…”

Heart hammering to match my own, Lukas tensed in my arms.

A moment later, an unwelcomed chill blew through the room. The scorching heat and tingles faded all too fast, and I realized he’d moved away.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone. Out the door and already making his way down the stairs.

I started to follow, but a flash of white caught my eye. Something folded—a piece of paper on the edge of the desk.

Unfolding it, my breath caught. In astonishing detail, a sleeping version of me was captured on the paper. One arm tucked under the couch pillow, the other wrapped around a large book. Several strands of hair lay across my cheek while the rest blanketed my bare shoulder. Lips slightly parted as if mid-whisper. The girl looked so young. So innocent. There was something powerful on that page. So deep. Was this how Lukas saw me? This delicate thing that looked so fragile? So breakable? At the bottom of the page, scrawled in elegant cursive, it said, My Serenity.

The paper slipped from my hands and fluttered to the ground.

Chapter Thirty-five

One hour left…

Rene Morgan and her husband opened the Morgan house the year I was born. Up until the fire several years ago, it was one of Penance’s only tourist draws. Apparently, some big travel magazine had done a spread on them. Now the formerly beautiful three-story Victorian was a pale, hollow ghost of its glory days.

We were about to start up the walkway when Lukas doubled over.

“What is it?”

He sucked in a deep breath and glared at the house. Straightening, he said, “We have to hurry. Time is short. The box is preparing to call us back.” With a quick glance at my bag, he started forward again. I followed.

I raised my hand to knock, but thought twice. This wasn’t a social call. The lamiae hadn’t knocked when she’d sent them to snack on us.

Adjusting my backpack, I turned the knob. Unlocked. Not a shocker. I stepped through the door, Lukas on my heels. There were a few candles lit around the room—witches lived for candlelight for some reason. They cast odd, dancing shadows on the wall that seemed to follow us with each step we took. I took a breath through my mouth in hopes it would help with the stench. The air was thick with dust, and the place smelled like burnt plastic and mold. It made my eyes water.

A few steps in and my sneaker came down on a creaky board. I cringed as the protesting wood announced our entrance with an echoing moan. So much for the element of surprise.

“What’s this?” Lukas stepped around me and picked a small yellow piece of paper from the floor. “Basement,” he read aloud and turned it around so I could see. It had a big smiley face on the front.

Creaking to our left announced the door—I assumed to the basement—opening.