Chapter Fifteen #2
“Nothing is uncertain.” Laura shuffled his card back into the deck.
“But whoever put those swords in your back will probably do it again. Be careful who you. . .” She paused, clucking her tongue.
“Make pacts with,” she decided, and turned her back to them, folding into the star-shaped circle on the blanket .
Aiden imagined that night at the Ocean Grove trailhead.
Driving the blade into his own stomach, kneeling off the cliff, tumbling into the darkness, dying, coming back, texting Shay something reckless and ridiculous.
I’ve loved you, I love you, I want to love you .
But he’d had nothing to give, nothing to offer besides his wretched, rotten love for Shay—the goddamn key ingredient—decaying in his ribcage until he’d tried to rip it out.
Realized how alive it still was. Clung to it, mercilessly, and raised the stolen future he’d bargained for back from the dead.
Except he hadn’t brought Shay back, had he? Camila’s bitch ass psychic thought otherwise.
Shay gave Aiden a gentle push, guiding him across the deck and around the corner. “So, that was weird.”
“It’s probably a bunch of bullshit,” Aiden said.
“Didn’t feel like bullshit.”
With his defenses scratched away by a drug he—arguably—should not have taken, Aiden nodded.
Disagreeing would’ve been harder, would’ve taken more effort, and his melting inhibitions would’ve made a lie impossible, anyway.
He would’ve opened his mouth and shouted the truth: I needed to grieve you.
I needed a reason to let you go for good .
So, he stayed quiet, and waved to Georgia who soaked her feet in the jacuzzi at the end of the deck.
Dylan had stripped down to his briefs and lounged in the crowded tub, passing a blunt counterclockwise. Surprisingly, Pru sat beside him, sucking on a vape pen, topless and unbothered.
“I texted her,” Georgia said. Chlorine steam curled from the water. She lifted one foot and wiggled her wet toes. “Figured we could use a babysitter.”
Shay laughed. Aiden did, too.
Pru exhaled white vapor. “Don’t worry, I won’t stick around for long. We’ve got a pit-stop in New Mexico tomorrow and I’m the driver, so.”
“Hang out for as long as you want,” Shay said. He tucked his thumb beneath Aiden’s shirt, tracing the place where denim met skin.
Aiden fought against the urge to close his eyes. He stepped closer to the jacuzzi, away from Shay’s hand. “New Mexico?”
“Jacob booked you guys recording time at some po-dunk studio in Roswell,” Pru said.
“Sounds about right,” Dylan said, voice strained as he nursed the blunt, forcing another few sips of smoke into his lungs.
Georgia heaved a sigh. “Think we’re ready to record?”
“No, absolutely not,” Aiden said, and tried not to laugh.
His eyes wandered over transparent reflections dancing across windows and landed on the makeshift dancefloor illuminated by firelight past the glass.
Focus . He unclenched his jaw, gnawing on his lip.
“But we might as well give it a go, right?”
“If Jacob wants a new single, he’ll get one,” Shay said. He shrugged, flicking his wrist.
Ecstasy, like most euphoric drugs, gave bodies a way to expand, release, decompress.
Like stars, almost. Still glowing, still dead, still trying and reaching.
Aiden needed to calm his fast-moving thoughts, but he kept seeing velvet gloves and flipped cards, kept feeling impossibly vast in a body he was still building.
He took a step without realizing, then another.
Shay called after him. “Hey, Aiden—wait!”
“I’m just goin’ inside,” Aiden said over his shoulder.
People writhed together in the living room, straddled each other on the brown leather sectional, and undulated in front of the fireplace.
Aiden leaned against the stone wall and breathed.
Faces blurred and changed, warped by fast movements and strobing light.
Someone said, “Dance with me,” and he ignored them.
Someone else said, “C’mon, we’re cuttin’ lines,” and he ignored them.
Another person said, “You like oxy?” Except it was his own voice, echoing.
Then he heard, “This stays between us,” and followed the grating sound to Thomas, sea-soaked and bloated, standing across the room.
Fuck you, he thought. Am I awake?
Shay touched his hand, suddenly there, right there , stepping between him and a ghost. “Aiden, hey, you… Whoa, you okay?”
Aiden blinked. Like always, he found himself orbiting Shay fucking Bennett. Finding him, being found by him. “Am I awake?” he asked, too quietly, then again, “Are we awake?”
“Yeah, Aiden, we’re awake. I’m awake, you’re awake. We’re at the lodge,” he said, and put his mouth to Aiden’s ear. Shay inhaled against his skin. “You’re having a bad trip, okay? Just breathe.”
“No, I’m—I’m fine. It’s not that. But I’m usually asleep for this.
” He realized how little sense that made and shook his head, imprinting on the ultralight sensation of Shay’s fingers playing on his palm.
“For you, like this,” he clarified, and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to arrange the words correctly. “For us. I’m asleep when it’s us.”
“Explain that again. . .” Shay’s lips feathered his temple. His voice deepened, overlayed with thunderclaps and beast-sounds.
When Aiden met his eyes, he found black pools gazing back at him. Dark webs extended outward from his lashes, shadowing his temples, crawling over his cheekbones. He looked devilish and different. Capable.
Aiden gripped his hand. “Shay, not here— not here .”
Shay blinked, confused. When Aiden glanced over Shay’s shoulder, he noticed velvet gloves around a plastic cup. Clever eyes inspected them from the kitchen, lips rounded in a surprised, oh , before the witch-bitch did the worst thing possible and lifted her phone .
Aiden gripped Shay’s face, shielding the black veins from view, and kissed him.
His heart surged. Close your eyes. Shay grabbed him, palms heavy on his hips.
Close your fucking eyes. He kissed Shay deeply, like he had under the full moon.
Pried at his mouth, and tasted his gasp, and sucked on his lip.
Aiden cracked his eyes open, tilted his head until Shay slid to his throat, kissing his healed bitemark.
Aiden glanced from the couch to the kitchen. Thomas was gone. Laura was gone, too.
“C’mon,” he said, and tugged Shay toward the staircase. “Keep your eyes low.”
“What. . . ?”
“You’re hungry. Come on.”
The first door on the second floor led to a very occupied bedroom. The second hosted a candlelit spirit board session. Aiden rolled his eyes and tried the third, hauling Shay inside an empty bathroom. He flipped the lock, and let his weight go heavy against the door. Okay. All right, we got away ?—
Shay stared at his black-eyed reflection, throat working around a swallow, and hit the switch next to the doorframe. The exposed bulbs above the vanity went out. “Hurts my eyes,” he said, sighing. Then he was there, hand curled around Aiden’s jaw, holding him tenderly and tightly.
Lips touched Aiden’s ear. Breath shallowed. They stayed like that for too long, breathing, searching, caught in the moment before someone—both of them—decided to break.
Shay leaned their foreheads together, and whispered, “Are you scared?”
“Yes.” Aiden pushed his hand beneath Shay’s shirt, feeling across the scar on his stomach.
“I’m scared one day you’ll kill me, and I won’t have the power or magic—whatever the fuck you have that I don’t—to get back to you.
I’m scared we’re asleep. Worse, I’m scared we’re awake.
I’m scared of myself, mostly. Who I became.
. .” When you left me. “But I’m not scared of you,” he snapped, and dug his thumb cruelly into smooth, new flesh. “You can’t scare me, Shay Bennett.”
“You’re awake,” Shay said, and trailed Aiden’s jaw. Fangs scraped Aiden’s bottom lip, threatening at plush skin. “Do you want me to scare you?”
“Isn’t this what you did to her—Cassandra?” Aiden whispered. “Lured her into a bathroom?”
Shay seized his wrists and slammed them hard against the door, snarling against his cheek. “ Yes ,” he said, snapping at Aiden’s mouth. “Is that why we’re here? So, I can make you feel what she felt?”
“ I lured you here,” Aiden said. His heart thundered. Sad, raspy laughter hiccupped in his throat. “And you have no idea what you make me feel.”
Shay paused, black eyes flicking back and forth, lingering on lips and throat and curled fingers. “Show me,” he said, and kissed Aiden hard.
Aiden surged against him, pushing against strong palms until Shay released his wrists, gripping his ribs instead. He wanted to touch him, to find Shay’s face, there , to kiss him deeply, swallowing hot, rapid breath, to pull him closer and crash against him and have him, finally.
Shay dropped his hands and opened Aiden’s jeans, tugging impatiently at the zipper.
Breathe . Aiden did. Unevenly, quickly. Desire ached beneath his navel, pulsing with the promise of being touched.
His head spun. Thoughts turned syrupy and thick, tilting inevitably toward Shay.
He had the chance to stop, to remember his rules, to consider the consequences, but he pressed on Shay’s knuckles, guiding his hand instead.
Touch me . Shay pushed open his mouth. Kissed him hungrily, like they hadn’t before—wet and deep and needy.
Each touch between his legs was explorative, stroking gently, sliding over sensitive skin until Aiden trembled and moaned and wanted more.
He shoved his pants down. Toed out of his shoes and kicked away annoying denim.