Then it begins. The first curl of scent winds around me, soft and cloying. At first, it’s delicious, like honey melting on my tongue. I inhale deeper. Whoops, too deep. The sweetness blooms sharp, sickly sweet, until I can’t tell if I want to laugh or gag. My head swims. My short hair tickles my shoulders as a tremor runs through me.
I giggle, unable to control my reactions.
A hand clamps onto my wrist. “I found you.”
There’s something different about the voice, and his scent…it’s wrong.
I wrench backward, too hard, stumbling out of his grip and right into a wall of heat and muscle. Arms catch me, strong and sure, a nose dips into my neck. He inhales my scent deeply.
“There you are.”
Relief washes over me in an instant. Pine and winterberry. My body recognizes him before my mind can form the thought. Thorn.
I spin in his arms and rip off the blindfold. Ice-blue eyes stare back at me, equally unmasked, equally wide. For a heartbeat, neither of us speaks. The spores paint everything in faint pink mist, but he is sharp, real, right.
Behind me, a grunt. The other voice, jealous and frustrated, fades into the crowd.
“Come,” Thorn says low, his hand warm at my back, “Let’s have a seat.”
The temple has once again transformed. Pillows in shadesof rose and amber scatter the stone floor, silken throws softening the cold edges of marble. The spores swirl in the air around us, shimmering faintly like powdered starlight. I sway as I step forward. My knees go weak and Thorn’s hand shoots out, steadying me.
“Careful,” he mutters, a slick smile spreading across his lips.
To my sheer embarrassment, giggles echo out. “Oh my. Your muscles are huge.” My hand betrays me, sliding up the curve of his bicep before my brain catches up. “Oh gods—I didn’t mean?—”
His smile is low, devastating. “I would’ve let you touch them all you liked the other night … if you hadn’t been late.”
My breath hitches. Heat flares across my cheeks. A sensual laugh cuts through the haze. Girls glide past and snicker from under their breath. I freeze. Thorn’s growl rumbles deep in his chest, and they scatter.
I withdraw my hand, fidgeting. The spores surrounding us now pressing in on me, tugging at thoughts I’d rather keep hidden. Doubts crawl in. What if they’re right? What if I’m not enough?
The pressure builds until I cough, choke. My chest tightens, vision swimming.
“Ember?” Thorn leans closer, his large frame folding down until his face hovers at my level. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t fight the spores,” he says softly. “They’ll win. Let them. Better than tearing yourself apart.”
“It’s not the spores…” My voice cracks, but I can’t explain the war raging inside me.
He tilts his head, coaxing. “Then ask me something. Anything.”
Those blue eyes pin me, patient and steady, and the words tumble out. “How…how did you get those scars?” I point to his temple.
“I challenged the Alpha.”
“How did you get yours?” He points to my abdomen.
I wrap my arms around them self-consciously. Even though they are visible all the time, remembering they are there is remembering the worst moment of my life. Still, I can’t hold them back as the words come, “It happened during Cullen’s Challenge.”
He nods. “I heard it was brutal.”
I nod, quickly asking another question. “Why did you Challenge the Alpha?”
“He wasn’t a good man.” His tone sharpens.
“Are you… Are you a good man?”