I dropped my gaze to my clasped hands on my knee. I took a deep breath and asked, “Do you think it’s true? That your father is a demon?”
Oliver’s eyes hardened as he gazed toward the window. “Would you think differently of me if it were?”
I swallowed, uncertain. If Oliver were part demon, what would I think? I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Silence fell between us, cold and ominous. I watched Oliver—the way his tense jaw lined his face, the way his squared shoulders stiffened as darkness weighed on his eyes and expression.
It reminded me of the darkness in myself. The darkness I constantly tried to escape from.
But for him, he reveled in it. He wore it like armor that was meant to drag him down instead of building him up. He kept his darkness shackled to him permanently, as if punishing himself.
I rose to my feet and gently kicked his leg. “All right, it’s your turn now. Stand up.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Just do it.”
Oliver groaned and climbed to his feet, his lips pressed in a flat line as he spread his arms. “Now what?”
I took both his hands in mine and swayed back and forth, flashing him a grin. “Now we dance.”
Oliver’s eyebrows flew to his hairline, and he laughed. “What? No, I’m not dancing.”
My hands moved to his shoulders, which were still locked in place, unyielding. “You’re too tense, Oliver. Let go. Let loose. Dance with me.” I swayed my hips and raised my eyebrows.
Redness blossomed across his cheeks, but his chin lifted, and he arched an eyebrow at me. “All right, but only if you show me how.”
My smile widened, and my hands returned to his. I pulled him closer to me, stepping back and forth and moving our clasped hands in a circular motion, like a simplified version of the salsa dance.
Oliver followed my lead, but his movements were stiff and robotic. I watched him grimace, and I laughed.
“You can do better than that,” I said, moving my hands to his hips. He stiffened as I brought his hips against mine and swayed back and forth, moving him with me.
“I—uh—” His entire face and neck were beet-red now.
“Relax, Oliver.” My eyes lifted to his. Heat seared along my body, but the more I moved, the more in control I felt. I took his hands again and stepped back, then forward, then back again, humming a poppy salsa tune as we danced.
Gradually, the blush in Oliver’s face faded, and his eyes lit up. His shoulders relaxed, and his hips moved with ease.
I dropped one of his hands and lifted the other above my head as I twirled on my toes. His hand slid down my back as I bent over backward, my long curls dangling to the floor with the dip. He easily held my weight and drew me back in again, his whole body moving with mine as he grinned down at me.
My humming continued as our dance got sillier and sillier. I lifted our clasped hands above his head—standing on my tiptoes—and spun him. He burst out laughing and spun back into me. Then I tried dipping him, but his weight was too much for me, and we crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Hysterical laughter bubbled from us as we shuffled and shifted, trying to extract our tangled limbs. I swept my curls out of my eyes and wiped tears of laughter from my face. Scooting next to him, I leaned my head against the wall, my giggles fading.
“Impressive, right?” Oliver joked, sliding next to me against the wall. “Tell me you’ve never seen such raw talent before.”
I snorted and nudged his shoulder with mine. “That’s not why I do it. I do it to release. All that tension and hardness I see in you reminds me of myself just after I lost my parents. I had to find an outlet, something to help me let go and lose myself. I’m not saying dancing is your thing, but I still wanted to share it with you.” I offered him a small, shy smile as my cheeks burned and my stomach flipped. I’d never opened up to anyone about this before—not even José or any of my friends. They just assumed it was a weird quirk of mine and never asked questions.
Oliver’s eyes softened. “Thank you, Desi.” His gaze held mine, conveying a deeper meaning than his words. In that shared look, we expressed solidarity over our woes and burdens—the darkness that clouded our lives and the lengths we took to deal with it.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered.
As we stared at each other, something else glistened in his eyes, warming his expression. The tenderness in his face sent coils of heat racing through my stomach. I swallowed, my eyes darting instead to the window. The room darkened as the sun vanished, casting us in shadow.
Oliver and I stared at the window for a moment. Then I stood, my arms shaking with anticipation. It was time.
Oliver rose to his feet and handed me the athame. He nodded at me encouragingly. “You can do this.”
I nodded too. “We both can do this.”
Several tense moments passed in silence. Then wolf howls echoed from downstairs.
The full moon had arrived.
Chapter 20
WHINES AND HOWLS FILLED the shop as Oliver and I crept downstairs. The wolves no longer waited at the bottom, but I heard them shuffling around restlessly nearby.
My heartbeat drummed erratically in my chest.
Fight, I told myself. Fight. Don’t run. Fight.
We reached the bottom of the staircase, and my breath caught in my throat. Six wolves paced the room, their hair on end and their bodies quivering. Wild snarls snapped from their snouts. Darkness bled through until it took over the whites of their eyes.
Oliver hurled a ball of flames toward the pack. Two of the wolves howled in agony and toppled over. The smell
