He stared into my eyes as tears tracked down his face. “I don’t know why this makes me so emotional. It’s not like me at all.”
“It should make you emotional. This is insanely difficult—not to mention we have a bunch of terrifying end-of-the-world stuff going on around us. But, James, what we don’t have going on is a secret love affair. That’s not us.”
“What you’re saying makes sense to my mind. I just need it to make sense to my heart.” Then, carefully, he lifted my hand and pressed it to his lips before saying, “You’re a wise High Priestess. I’m glad I came to this world and got to know you.”
I smiled at him and suddenly felt a lot lighter. “Me too.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here and talk with Nyx for a little while,” he said.
“I don’t mind at all. And you know what, James Stark? In any world you’ll always be one of the good guys.”
21
Other Stark
James didn’t leave Nyx’s Temple until he felt completely calm. He’d really not known Zoey was going to be there—not that he would’ve avoided the temple had he known. He totally would’ve gone in but been prepared to face her. Talking with her there had changed everything. She’d looked so young, but sounded mature and wise, and he’d felt so drawn to her that it had made him dizzy with desire.
He’d had lovers—lots of them, actually. He and Neferet had been lovers, though James didn’t like to think about that. Having sex with Neferet had been hot and rough. There had been nothing intimate about it. It’d been like she had an itch that anyone could scratch—and that anyone had, temporarily, been him. In spite of her preternatural beauty, James had been relieved when Neferet had turned her attention to other vampyres.
But that one kiss with Zoey in the press box at TU in the midst of insanity and chaos had shaken his world. So, he’d tried again—desperately seeking a repeat, and this world’s Stark could go to hell and be ready to move out of his way.
It hadn’t been the same, and not just because Zoey hadn’t done much participating. That thing he’d felt at the stadium wasn’t entirely gone. His stomach still flipped around when he saw her, but there had been no electricity—no gut-deep zap that made him want to pull her into his arms and crush her body against his and tell her Warrior to get lost.
It was confusing.
Sitting on the floor of Nyx’s Temple before her offering table, James decided that maybe he didn’t need to figure out the whys and what-ifs. Maybe he just needed to accept that this girl he’d traveled to a different world to find wasn’t meant to be with him—and as soon as that thought came to James’s mind, he suddenly felt better—freer—calmer and not as desperate and filled with nerves as he’d been since the day not so long ago that he’d taken a stand against Neferet.
James stood and touched the base of Nyx’s statue. “You know I’m sorry. I’ve said it over and over again. I’ve shown you in my actions too. I guess now Zoey is right. I need to learn to forgive myself and let go—of my anger and disappointment and also of that fantasy I’ve been building up in my mind about Zoey. I think I’m ready. Maybe that’s why I had to come all the way over here—to learn to forgive and to let go. I’m going to do it. I promise. Blessed be, my Goddess. Blessed be.”
Feeling better, James left Nyx’s Temple and sprinted to the rear entrance of the school. He ducked his head against what was now cold, constant rain and rushed inside where he had to put on the brakes and lunge to the side to stop from knocking some kid over.
“Holy shitballs! Watch yourself. And back the hell off—you’re like a wet cat getting rain everywhere. Jesus, my hair!”
James backed against the closed door, wiping rain and hair from his eyes to see a very disgruntled vampyre glaring at him and brushing drops of rain from her clothes with one hand and patting her hair with the other. It took him a second to recognize her because she had her mass of hair pulled back in a spectacularly long ponytail—and he got sidetracked by her short, black biker’s boots, her skin-hugging black leggings, and her oversized black sweatshirt that proclaimed wild feminist in bold white letters across her large, perky boobs.
“Hey, genius. My eyes are up here.”
James lifted his gaze to meet her big, dark eyes and blinked in surprise. “Ice Cream Shoes?”
“You don’t have to call me that, James. I mean, you can if you want, but it’s really more of a this-world joke than a your-world thing.”
“Sorry, Kacie. I was distracted.”
“I know. By my large, gorgeous breasts.”
“Well, maybe. Partially. But it’s raining pretty hard, and I got it in my eyes—not to mention my hair was totally messing with my vision. I did almost run over you because I couldn’t see.”
She pursed her lips and studied him closely which, for some reason, made him want to fidget. “I’m not sure whether I should be insulted or glad you’re not a boob creeper-stalker.”
“I’m definitely not a boob creeper-stalker. Though I do appreciate breasts.” He closed his mouth then to keep anything else stupid from coming out.
She let out one Ha! of amusement and shook her head slightly. “Good to know. I suppose you’re going to be in the big Council Meeting in half an hour?”
“I suppose I am, since I came from another world to be here,” he said. “Will you be there?”
“Yep. I’m the fire and water stand-in until
