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“Heath’s!” Stark scowled. “Three times. It woke me up.” Still not looking at me, he said, “What were you dreaming?”

What he’d said had shocked the hell out of me, making me mentally scramble. What the hell had I been dreaming? I thought back. I remembered Stark kissing me before I went to sleep. I remembered the kiss was super hot, but I’d been super tired and instead of doing more than kissing him back, I’d put my head on his shoulder and totally passed out. After that I didn’t remember a thing until he was shaking me and yelling at me to stop it.

“I have not one clue,” I said honestly.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Stark, I wouldn’t lie to you.” I brushed my hair from my face and then touched his arm. “I don’t remember dreaming about anything.”

He looked at me then. His eyes were sad. “You were calling Heath. I’m sleeping right here next to you, but you were calling for him.”

The way he sounded made my heart squeeze. I hated that I’d hurt him. I could have told him it was ridiculous of him to be mad at me for something I’d said when I was asleep—something I hadn’t even remembered, but ridiculous or not, Stark’s hurt was real. I slid my hand in his.

“Hey,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He threaded his fingers with mine. “Do you wish he was here instead of me?”

“No,” I said. I’d loved Heath since I was a kid, but I wouldn’t trade Stark for him. Of course, the rest of the truth was that had Stark been the one killed, I wouldn’t have traded Heath for him, either. But that was definitely something Stark didn’t need to hear—not now—not ever.

Loving two guys was a confusing mess, even when one of them was dead.

“So, you’re not calling out for him because you want to be with him instead of me?”

“I want you. Promise.” I moved forward and he opened his arms to me. I fit perfectly against his chest and breathed in his familiar smell.

He kissed the top of my head and hugged me. “I know it’s stupid of me to be jealous of a dead guy.”

“Yep,” I said.

“Especially when I actually liked the dead guy.”

“Yep,” I agreed.

“But we belong together, Z.”

I leaned back so that I could look into his eyes. “Yes,” I said seriously, “we do. Please don’t ever forget that. No matter what amount of crazy is going on around us—I can handle it, but I need to know my Warrior is here for me.”

“Always, Z. Always,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Stark. Always.” I kissed him then and showed him that he absolutely didn’t have to be jealous of anyone else. And, at the same time, for just a little while, I let the heat of his love burn away the memory of what I’d seen when I’d looked through the Seer Stone that night …

* * *

Next time I woke up it was because I was way too hot. I was still in Stark’s arms, but he’d shifted a little and thrown his leg over me, cocooning me in my fuzzy blue blanket. This time he wasn’t being Crazy Boyfriend. He looked cute and little-boy young and out cold.

As per usual, Nala had made her bed on my hip, so before she could grumble I scooped her up, and slid both of us as gently and quietly as I could to the other, cooler, side of the bed. Totally asleep, Stark made a vague motion with his sword hand, as if reaching out for me. I focused on happy thoughts—brown pop, new shoes, kittens that didn’t sneeze in my face—and he relaxed.

I tried to relax, too—for real. Nal stared at me. I scratched behind her ears and whispered, “Sorry for waking you up. Again.” She butted her face against my chin, sneezed on me, and then jumped back on my fuzzy blue blanket, circled three times, and returned to being a sleeping fur donut.

I sighed. I needed to do like Nala—curl up and go back to sleep, but my mind was too awake. With awakeness came thinking. After we’d made love, Stark had sleepily murmured, “We’re together. Everything else will work itself out.” I’d fallen asleep feeling secure that he was right.

Now that I was, sadly, fully conscious, I couldn’t avoid the whole think-too-much-worry-too-much thing. Although, my guess was if Stark knew what I’d imagined I’d seen through the Seer Stone last night, he’d take back his everything else will work itself out comment, and turn back into Mr. I’m Jealous of a Dead Guy.

I put my hand over the small round stone that hung on a slender silver chain around my neck and dangled innocently between my breasts. It felt normal—like any other necklace I could have worn. It wasn’t radiating weird heat. I pulled it from under my T-shirt and slowly lifted it. I drew a deep, fortifying breath, and peeked through it at Stark.

Nothing strange happened. Stark stayed Stark. I turned the necklace a little and took a peek at Nala. She stayed a fat, sleeping, orange cat.

I put the Seer Stone back under my shirt. What if I had imagined it? Seriously. How could Heath be in Aurox? Even Thanatos said he’d been created by Darkness through the sacrifice of my mom. He was a Vessel—a creature under the control of Neferet.

But she’d needed to kill Shadowfax to totally control him, and he had asked those questions about what he really was to Thanatos.

Okay, but does any of that make a difference? Aurox wasn’t Heath. Heath was dead. He’d gone on to a deeper realm of the Otherworld that I hadn’t been able to go because Heath was dead.

Reflecting my restlessness, Stark stirred, frowning in his sleep. Nala cat grumbled again. No way did I want either of them awake again, I got quietly out of bed and tiptoed from the room, ducking under the blanket Stark and I used as a door.

Brown pop. I needed a serious dose of brown pop. Maybe I’d get lucky and there would be some Count Chocula and uncurdled milk left, too. Yum, just thinking about it made me feel a little better. I could seriously heart me some breakfast cereal.

I shuffled down the dimly lit tunnel, following it past turn-offs and other blanket-covered doorways behind which my friends rested as we waited for the sun to set, until I entered the alcove which was the common area we used as a kitchen. The tunnel sorta dead-ended there, making room for some tables, laptops, and a few full-sized fridges. “There’s gotta be some brown pop left in here somewhere,” I muttered to myself, as I rummaged through the first fridge.

“It’s in the other one.”

I made a stupid-sounding squeak and jumped. “Jeesh, Shaylin! Don’t lurk like that. You almost scared the pee outta me.”

“Sorry, Zoey.” She went to the second of the three fridges, and pulled out a can of fully leaded, totally loaded with sugar and caffeine brown pop, handing it to me with an apologetic smile.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I sat in the closest chair and sipped my pop, trying not to sound as grumpy as I felt.

“Yeah, well, I’m tired and all. I can feel the sun hasn’t set yet, but I got a lot on my mind. Know what I mean?”

I gave a little snort. “I super know what you mean.”

“Your color’s kinda off.” Shaylin made the comment as nonchalantly as if she’d just said something as normal as mentioning the color of my shirt.

“Shaylin, I don’t really get this color stuff you talk about.”

“I’m not sure how much of it I really get, either. All I know is that I see it and if I don’t think about it too much it usually makes sense to me.”

“Okay, give me an example of how it usually makes sense to you.”

“That’s easy. I’ll use you as my example. Your colors don’t change very much. Most of the time you’re purple with silver flecks. Even when you were getting ready to go to the ritual at your grandma’s place, and you knew it was gonna be a hard thing to watch, your colors stayed the same. I checked because…” Her voice trailed off.

“You checked because?” I prompted.