He’s bound to notice if I don’t put some distance between us.

“Az?” His eyes are on me, devouring, intent, questioning. “Tonight …”

I shake my head, my gaze riveted to his lips. Too beautiful, too well carved to resist.

The current around us intensifies. He notices it then. Still holding on to me, he frowns and looks down.

Panicked, I don’t think, I simply act. Surrender to the impulse rushing through me like flood waters. Unstoppable.

My free hand clasps his shoulder. Using it as a handhold, I haul myself against him and press my damp lips to his. There have been a few other kisses in my lifetime. Pecks. A few longer ones behind the meeting hall. Nothing that compares to this.

My lips taste him, sunlight and water and strong … male.

I sigh, deepen the pressure of my mouth on his. Then I gasp as he reacts, awakes to my lips. His hands close over my back, where my skin quivers—my wings pushing and swimming beneath the surface, eager to break free.

Terrified, I jerk away with a splash. Without glancing at him, I swim for the dock.

“Az! Wait!”

I don’t wait. I don’t look back. I haul myself up onto the dock, snatch up my towel, and run for home.

7

At ten minutes to eight that night, I gnaw the edge of my thumb until it’s raw as I pace a hard line in my room. I peer out the window several times, trying to detect if he’s already down by the dock.

I told myself I wouldn’t meet him. All through dinner I held fast to the decision, confident it was the right thing. Especially after that crazy kiss.

Only now, so close to the hour, I can’t hold myself still. Suddenly, I’m not too concerned with what’s right and logical. I only care about how I feel. How he makes me feel when I’m around him.

If I don’t show up at eight o’clock, I will never see him again. A panicky feeling swells inside me, making me pace faster. Why would he keep coming around? Not showing up would be my answer. The final rejection. He wouldn’t return and that would be that.

A desperate kind of anxiety wells up inside me. If I float through the remainder of the summer here with Mom and Dad and then return home to the pride, I will always wonder. I will always regret.

I know this. Feel it like a deep, unremitting ache in my bones. And I want the ache to stop. To go away. I want all those exciting sensations when I’m around Tate. Even if they’re dangerous, I want them. Him. I want to feel awake and alive. When I’m home with my kind, I can go back to feeling safe and asleep inside. Dead.

My clock reads seven fifty-eight. With two minutes to go, I race lightly down the stairs on the balls of my feet. A quick peek inside the living room reveals Dad asleep in his chair. Mom’s nowhere around—probably already in her room for the night.

I slide into my flip-flops and then slip outside, running across the grass toward the dock, a giddy little giggle building up inside me. I’ve only ever felt like this when I’m flying. Descending in a tailspin toward the floor of treetops, my stomach bottoming out the second before I lift up.

Tate stands there, his outline tall and strong against the night, and my heart clenches inside my chest just like it does when I pull up at that last second, a beat away from crashing into a nest of limbs and leaves.

He moves toward me as I halt breathlessly in front of him. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Sorry. I lost track of time.” I lift my chin somewhat defiantly, unwilling to admit that he was right earlier today when he said he knew I wanted to come. I especially didn’t want him to think I was here because I wanted a repeat of that kiss. I didn’t. I couldn’t …

“C’mon. I parked over here.” He motions toward the woods.

We walk side by side, taking a different path than the one I used to get to the pond.

It occurs to me that I’m going off alone with a veritable stranger. I should probably care. But I don’t. I can’t imagine this happening any other time … me getting into a car with a human I’ve known less than forty-eight hours. Everything about it shouts crazy. If Jacinda pulled a stunt like this she’d never hear the end of it from me.

And yet here I am.

Foolish as it may seem, I feel safe with him. Well, aside from the dangerous sensations he rouses in me. He seems so … solid, reliable, and strong. There’s a goodness to him. I see it in his eyes. In the way he carries himself. Even the way he moves through water. Centuries ago he probably would have worn armor and ridden a white stallion. He’s the kind of guy who could probably be trusted with a secret....

I drag a deep breath into my lungs, commanding myself not to go there. I dare not even think it.

We step onto a dirt road. His Jeep is parked off to the side and he walks me to the passenger door, pulling it open for me.

“Thanks.”

For the five seconds I’m alone in his vehicle, the silence and swirling press of my doubts choke me. I’m relieved when he joins me inside and starts the engine.

“I don’t live far,” he says.

I nod, hands clasping my knees.

“Anna knows you’re coming. She’s excited. I told her all about you.”

I shift my weight nervously. “What did you tell her?”

He grins. “That you can outswim me.”

I wince. I should probably have held back in that race.

“Course she doesn’t believe me. I hold the school record. You’ll have to tell her yourself.”

We pass through the town. I’ve seen it before with my parents, but I’m still enchanted with its quaint glass storefronts and town square with the gazebo positioned in the middle. It’s like something out of a movie.

We take a right at the last light in town. The houses are mostly siding and rock: narrow two-storied structures all very similar to one another. When we pull into his driveway behind another car, I know I wouldn’t be able to pick it out again from its neighbors. I reach for the door handle, but he stalls me with a hand on my arm. “Wait.”

I watch as he climbs out and moves around the front of his Jeep.

I hesitate as he opens the door for me, perplexed at the courtesy. It’s not that the guys back home are rude … or that I don’t think I deserve this kind of courtesy. I’m just plain Az to them all. The girl they grew up with. Unexciting. Predictable. Except in his eyes I am exciting. Special. Someone you hurry to get the door for. He’s brought those feelings to me and it makes me all buoyant and giddy inside like when I plunge through deep waters.

I lower my feet to the ground. His hand grazes my back as we step onto the porch, oh-so-lightly, barely touching but there. The giddy, bubbly sensation returns, swimming just beneath the surface of my ever-tightening skin. I inhale, steadying my nerves, reaching for calm.

He opens the front door, waving me inside. I step in and am greeted by the sounds of a television.

And then I see her sitting cross-legged on a couch, a plaid blanket draped over her lap. The pretty girl from the pond, the one I fished out of the bottom. The girl Troy is determined to date. All this zips through my mind.

“Hey!” Her entire face brightens as she spots me. “You came!”

Even the nasty bruise at the center of her forehead doesn’t detract from her prettiness. In fact, it might heighten her looks, enhancing the natural peach of her skin, the high sheen to her blond hair, the brightness of her eyes, the gently sculpted cheekbones. If she’s the day, then her brother is the night with his dark looks.

“I said I was going to pick her up, didn’t I?”

“You also said she outswam you.” She grins at me. “No offense, but he’s such a liar, right?”

I follow Tate into the living room, sitting down beside him on the smaller couch. “Of course.”

He looks at me with wide, affronted eyes. “Hey! You know it’s true. Why don’t you want her to know how good you are?”

I only smile.

“So Tate says you’re from Wyoming.” She sits up, arranging the throw so that it still covers her legs, and I can’t help wondering what else he’s said about me. “That’s cool—how are you enjoying our little backwoods?”

Her backwoods is practically metropolitan compared to the pride. “It’s really nice.”

“Tate said you’re here for a month. You’ll have to let us show you around. You already found the pond, but we’ve got a few other secret spots. Some great hiking up in the mountains.”

The front door opens then. A burly man enters the room. The smell of stale beer surrounds him.

Tate stands abruptly, and everything about him is tense: his voice, the set to his shoulders. “Dad. What are you doing home?”

Tate’s father pauses in the front hall. “Didn’t know I needed to alert you of my comings and goings.” He scans the three of us with red-rimmed eyes, his gaze resting the longest on me. “Who’s she?”

“This is Az,” Anna quickly supplies.

Swaying slightly on his feet, he hangs his cap on a hook near the door. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy? Isn’t that what the doctor said? Shouldn’t be having friends over—”

“This is the girl that pulled me out of the water. Tate brought her.”

I notice a paper bag in his arms, the vague shape of a six-pack within. He grunts a response before moving deeper into the house, apparently satisfied with her explanation.

An awkward silence hangs in the room.

Tate stares down at his lap.

Anna sighs. “Yeah. That’s our dad. A real champ.”

“Sorry,” Tate mumbles, running a hand through his hair and inhaling deeply. “I thought he was working late.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, not wanting him to feel ashamed or awkward. It’s not as though I could bring him around my parents. They want me to be comfortable mingling with humans, but only on a superficial level. They’d be arctic if I showed up with him.

For once he doesn’t seem capable of looking at me. Without thinking, I reach out and close my hand over his. My flesh contracts at the contact, coming awake. He quickly lifts his gaze to mine, and I’m pinned by those warm, brown eyes again. My breath traps in my throat. A slow, sexy smile curves his lips and my stomach dips.

“Want some popcorn? I just made it.” Anna extends a bowl to me, watching us with interest. “You guys going to pity me and hang out for a while? Watch some TV?”

Tate raises an eyebrow at me in question.

I smile, forgetting his surly father even with the distant drone of a second television in the back of the house. “Sure.”

8

For the next half hour we watch a teen vampire show that I’ve never seen. Anna fills me in on everything I’ve missed in the last two seasons.

My fingers are slick with butter as I point at the screen and ask, “Okay, so the warlock has a thing for the half-werewolf, half-mermaid girl?”

“No,” Tate volunteers. “He’s just using her to get closer to her best friend, the vampire with the special amulet who can walk around in the day.”

Anna and I both look at him.

“What?” He shrugs defensively.

“I thought you never watched this show.” Anna eyes him speculatively.

“Yeah, well, I’ve picked up a little with you having it on all the time.”

“Admit it,” she teases. “You’re going to watch it even when I go away in the fall.”

He rolls his eyes and reaches for another handful of popcorn. “You know it.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

Anna smiles and I can feel her excitement. “Stanford. In September.”

“Oh.” I glance at Tate.

“Hotshot college girl now.” His face is a mixture of approval and sadness. “My big sister got all the brains.” I can tell he’s trying not to look sad, but it’s there … in his forced smile.