“Runes?” His voice is pitched with confusion. “I’ve only done that one ritual in the woods.” Evan runs a hand through his hair, his face crumpling. “I just want my family to be okay. I didn’t know what else to do.” His breath hitches in his throat.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach out. Evan steps forward and lets me wrap him in a hug. His arms come around my back, pulling me close. He shudders, and I realize he’s crying.How long has he been holding all this in?
I’m not sure what else to say. Guilt gnaws on my ribs, twisting my insides. I shouldn’t have forced Evan’s truth to the surfacewith magic, but I don’t know how to apologize without outing my Clan. I want to tell him everything will be okay, but the chrysocolla won’t let the lie past my lips. I never should have asked Veronica for these crystals, even if it has answered one question.
Evan isnota Blood Witch.
•••
After Evan’s confession, I head back to the house feeling like a judgmental asshole. When Evan came to the shop before the bonfire, I should have guessed something big was going on. He was never one to rock the goth look in school. And people often turn to Wicca—or any religion for that matter—when the rest of their life is falling to shit.
I glance over my shoulder and find Evan leaning against the fence. A smile quirks up one side of his lips, and he raises his hand. I wave back, but even from here I can see the sadness that deepens the lines in his forehead, can see the way he’s lost in thoughts he’d rather not have.
Guilt latches around my ribs and tugs, trying to yank me back to the fence. I can’t believe I suspected Evan of being a Blood Witch. Can’t believe I used magic against a Reg. Veronica was right. This whole thing was a bad idea.
“Oh, hey. It’s Hannah, right?” Morgan greets me when I make it back into the kitchen. She grabs the last hard lemonade. “Want anything?”
I shake my head. “I’m driving tonight.” I stay firmly on my side of the table and steal glances at the ballerina before me. She’s about my height, maybe an inch taller. Her red hair cascades past her shoulders, glimmering in the bright kitchen lights. Though Iknow it’s pointless, I look for clues—anything to help me determine whether she was flirting earlier or simply being nice.
Morgan opens the lemonade and tosses the cap in the overflowing metal bucket on the table. “I feel like I already know you. Gemma talks about you all the time.”
“Yeah?”Funny, she never mentionedyou.
“Sure. Gem thinks you’re hilarious. She also said you make the most amazing desserts. I’d love to try them sometime.” Morgan comes around to my side of the table. She rests a finger on my necklace; the stones pulse with heat as she nears, matching my quickening heartbeat. “This is beautiful.”
Flirting, she isdefinitelyflirting. Or maybe not. Shit. I don’t know.Be cool, Hannah, be cool.“Thank you,” I whisper, barely able to push the words past my lips.
Morgan steps closer, well within my personal bubble. The heat of her body so close to mine presses against my skin. “Are you dating anyone?”
I can’t speak. Her fingers linger on my neck, her touch the only thing my mind seems to grasp. Finally, I shake my head. “No, but I—”
She doesn’t wait for me to finish. Morgan leans forward and presses her lips to mine. Her hand cups my face, fingers weaving through my hair.
It takes me a second to realize what’s happening, but when I do? My heart dances in my chest, and I return the kiss, sinking into her warmth.
The stones at my throat pulse with heat, thrum with the veryrightnessof this moment. Morgan’s lips are soft against mine, her hands warm at the back of my neck. Everything about this kiss is tender and soft and full of promise. Morgan tastes sweet fromthe lemonade, and my heart pounds in time with the heavy bass pumping through the house.
“All right! Now it’s a party!”
Morgan and I flinch apart. Nolan stands in the entryway, his phone aimed at us.
“Aww, come on. I only caught, like, two seconds.” He stabs at his phone and the light turns off.
“You were recording us?” I see red, and I’m ready to throttle him. “Delete it.”
Nolan ignores me and watches his phone. “Not likely. This shit is hot.”
I could kill him. I could actually kill him, the fucking perv. “Delete the video, Nolan, or so help me—”
“Relax, Hannah. Geez.” He glances to my right. “Who’s your friend? I don’t think we’ve met.” He steps forward and offers his hand to Morgan. “I’m Nolan. Soccer captain. Class president. Single.” He grins. “Welcome to my party.”
Morgan ignores his outstretched hand and folds her arms across her chest.
“Anyway...” He lifts the phone again. The light flicks on as he starts recording. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
I block the lens with my hand. “Get the hell away from us.”
“Uh, last I checked, princess, this was my house.” A pause. “Fine, I won’t record it.” Nolan lowers the phone and shoves it in his back pocket. “You ladies want to add some testosterone to this little party?”
