Quiet footfalls broke into my thoughts. Ezra crossed to the cot and handed me a granola bar from our stash of food. Water droplets shone on his leather coat, and Zak’s long dagger was strapped to his thigh; he’d been on the warehouse roof, surveying the rundown commercial streets around our hideout.
“Zak still out?” I murmured, turning the granola bar over in my hands. My appetite had disappeared sometime this morning.
“He should be back soon.” Unzipping his jacket, Ezra shrugged it off his shoulders. I watched the leather slide down his arms, dragging over bands of muscle, his bronze skin marked with faint scars.
As he tossed his jacket onto the end of the cot, probably intending to sit beside me, I pressed a hand against his stomach. He paused, blinking down at me. I nudged the hem of his shirt up, revealing the white scars that raked his torso from hip to sternum.
I splayed my hand across them, the unyielding ridges rough under my palm. “You’ve survived so much.”
His surprise softened. He ran his thumb along my jaw.
“You’ll survive this too,” I whispered, pressing my fingers into his warm skin. “Won’t you?”
He combed his fingers into my tangled hair. Neither of us had showered properly in a week, but Zak had procured some basic hygiene supplies. I’d washed my hair, but the lack of hair product was showing.
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I can’t guess what will happen, but whatever it is, I promise I’ll fight to survive however I can.”
Tears stung my eyes. “I’m so afraid I’m going to lose you.”
“I’m afraid too.” He tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I’m afraid it won’t work. I’m afraid it will. I’m afraid it’ll kill me. I’m afraid my body might survive but my mind won’t.”
I swallowed against the sob building up in my chest.
“I’m afraid because I don’t know who I am if I’m not a demon mage. What if I don’t like myself? What if you don’t like me?”
“Why would I suddenly not like you?” I huffed.
His fingers trailed down the side of my neck. “Maybe I’m actually a jerk.”
My hand drifted across his abs, my thumb following the waistline of his jeans. “You could never be a jerk.”
He was quiet for a moment. “People like me because I’m easygoing. I don’t get upset about anything … but that’s because I can’t.”
I looked up at him, my lips quirking in a faint frown.
“If I’m not suppressing myself all the time and worrying about Eterran, I’ll be different. Maybe …” He smiled ruefully. “It’s a stupid thing to dwell on right now, but what if I’m different and you, Aaron, and Kai don’t like me as much anymore?”
“Oh, Ezra.” I pulled on his waist and he sank to his knees in front of the cot, putting us at eye level. “Of course you’ll change a little bit, but everyone changes. We change throughout our entire lives. Are you exactly the same now as when you first met Aaron and Kai?”
“No. I was … a lot more defensive back then.”
“And they still liked you, right?” I combed his hair back from his face. “It’s okay to change.”
His warm hands were on my hips, and he slid me forward on the cot until our bodies pressed together, his waist between my thighs. “There are a few things that I won’t allow to change.”
“Like what?” I whispered.
He slid his hand up my spine. “Like how I feel about you.”
Leaning in, he pressed his lips to mine. Our mouths moved with a quiet passion that swiftly escalated into urgent heat. I pressed against him, fingers digging into his shoulders, and his arms clamped around me, squeezing so tightly I could scarcely breathe. I kissed him harder. Held him closer.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to his warmth and strength. He was alive, and I desperately, frantically needed him to stay that way.
I crushed our mouths together, needing him more than I could express. More than I even understood. Nine months since I’d first laid eyes on him, and I had changed in irreversible ways. He had helped me change.
If I lost him now …
The clatter of a door interrupted us, and I jerked up with a frightened gasp. Zak stepped into the warehouse, raindrops chasing him inside. As he closed the door and bolted it, Ezra rose to his feet.
Zak assessed the demon mage with one swift, piercing look. “It’s time to begin.”
Zak’s raspy voice filled the empty concrete room. His chanting was slow, measured, each word delivered with care. Lacking Amalia’s confidence, he took his time with each phrase, the cult grimoire braced in his hands. Whenever he paused to check his place, my nerves wound tighter.
For a second time, Ezra stood in one of the two circles within the larger ring, and where Robin had stood with the case of Nazhivēr’s blood, I waited with a glass vial clutched in my hand.
Dizziness spun in my head, and I reminded myself to breathe.
Zak continued the incantation, the hollow echo of his voice emphasizing the barren emptiness of the room. Aaron and Kai should have been here. They’d saved Ezra, protected him, loved him like a brother. They deserved to be here, but it was just me.
Zak’s voice rose, then went silent. He canted his head, a silent command. If he said anything that wasn’t part of the ritual—or made a mistake chanting the endless Latin verses—it’d be ruined and we’d have to wait another three days for the array to charge.
Gripping the vial of blood as though it were a live grenade, I skittered across the outer line, drawn in shining silver. In the center of the empty second circle, I crouched and
