Why would she think that’s possible? She should have left them to me. Doesn’t she know what it’d do to me to see her killed?

I race up the steps to Blake’s deck, struggling for breath through the fog of overwhelming fear clouding my mind. I go straight to Anna, who looks afraid, and I take her face in my hands. I have to make her understand.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“I know it was dangerous, but there were five of them—”

“I can bloody well handle myself, Anna!” I let her go, frustrated that she doesn’t get it. Back and forth we go, little Anna thinking she’s a warrior fucking princess or something, and I’m about to lose my mind.

“Give me your knife,” she says.

“What?” What’s she going to do with it?

“Just give it to me,” she demands.

Oh, bloody hell. “No, Anna, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this is ridic—”

Anna comes at me, and next thing I know I feel myself going backward and down. I land hard on my back with Anna looking down at me.

“Give me your knife,” she says calmly.

Blake whistles and I stare up into her face of fierce determination, framed in a tumble of blond hair.

“God, that was hot,” I say like an idiot.

She holds out her hand, and now I’m curious enough to dig my knife out and hand it over. She turns her head, throws the damn thing with a strong flick, and it lands in the side of a wooden heron’s head. Holy shit. I can’t believe it. Lust bashes me like a sledgehammer, and I suddenly imagine her naked.

“Dude!” Blake yells, snapping me back to reality.

Anna stares down at me as if she’s conquered me. “You showed your colors!”

“Did not,” I reply quickly. But even as I say it, I think I bleedin’ well might’ve.

“You totally let ’em out, brah!”

“Shut up,” I say to Blake as I push to my feet. I will beat him later.

We’re all standing now, and Anna’s wearing a satisfied look. “I’ve been training. I’m not completely helpless anymore.”

“I can see that,” I say, but as impressive as that was, I still don’t want her trying to take on every bastard she comes across, thinking it will be that simple.

She steps closer to me and looks up. “I get it now, okay? Everything you’ve always tried to warn me about, I get. Today was . . .” Petrifying? Eye-opening? She clears her throat. “I came here and said what I needed to say. Now I have to go. I mean it this time.”

And I can see in her eyes that she does. She’s been sufficiently scared by our encounter with the whisperer and gang. I’m sorry she had to learn the hard way. I’m sorry both of us have to be continuously reminded. It only takes one whisperer to report back to the Dukes. We won’t always be able to weasel our way out of it like Anna did today, telling the spirit we were practicing our “work skills” together.

I listen as Anna changes her ticket to an earlier flight. She gathers her things, and Blake and I walk her to her car. She hugs Blake first. I rest my hands on my hips, resigned to be happy that I got to see her for one day. As horrid as certain events were, and as stupid as we were to tempt fate on that Ferris wheel, a bad day with Anna is better than a good day without her, and I’ve been without her so long. I’m pissed at myself for ruining half the day being an arse.

She scans the skies before approaching me, and I feel a smatter of pride for her awareness. I don’t expect her to touch me again, but when her arms circle my waist and her face presses against my chest, I’m immensely grateful. I scan the skies myself, but they’re clear, so I pull her tighter. I let my chin rest on top of her head for two full seconds, and then she’s pulling away, holding my hands. Her fingers slide slowly away from mine until we’re no longer touching, and her eyes drop.

A cavern of emptying loss opens inside me as I watch her go. I realize I can shield myself against everything else in this life—but I will never manage to keep Anna out. She’s under my skin. She’s in my head and in my heart, stretching out and taking up residence. When she leaves, the imprint of her stays, as always, but it’s not enough.

It’s never enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Alive

“And up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk. Well, you are the only exception.”

—“The Only Exception” by Paramore

“Come on, man,” Blake says. “We’ll grab a drink.”

We’re still standing in his driveway, staring down the street where Anna’s rental car has disappeared into the distance. When I don’t move or respond, he hits my arm to get my attention.

“I’ll be in in a bit,” I say.

He gives me a funny look, trying to read me.

“That’s some crazy shit she told us, right?” he asks. “About the prophecy?”

I nod, staring back down the street until he sighs.

“All right, fine. I’ll give you a minute, but hurry up. We only have one night until my pops gets back from wherever the hell they are.”

“Vegas.”

“Yeah, whatev. Just have your moment and getcha self inside. I’mma kick your ass at Grand Theft Auto.”

I know he’s trying to cheer me up. While other blokes would be having a party or going out, our idea of non-parental fun is just the opposite.