The sun was just beginning to rise when we reached the corn mill, which surprised me until I remembered that A) England has freakishly early sunrises in the summer, and B) we’d been gone nearly two hours. I was pretty sure I’d never been so wiped out in my entire life. I felt hollow and exhausted, and as I looked at Archer, almost unbearably sad. I tried to tell myself that it was just because I’d been nearly squished by the space-time continuum, but I knew that wasn’t it.
I think Archer was feeling something similar, because his hands shook slightly as he lifted the chain from around our necks. It hit the floor with a heavy thump, sending up a cloud of dust motes. They sparkled in the shaft of pale pink light that fell between us, looking surprisingly pretty for dirt.
Archer’s face was streaked with sweat, and there was a smudge above his left eyebrow, as well as a dark stain on his torso that was probably ghoul blood. I had a feeling I looked just as rough.
“Well,” he said at last, his voice slightly hoarse. “That was the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”
Despite being so tired that I thought I might dissolve right there on the grimy floor, I laughed. So did he, and once we started, it was like we couldn’t stop. I knew it was just that weird mix of relief and fatigue, but it felt so good to laugh with him, I didn’t care.
Tears dripped down my cheeks, and my sides ached, and for just a moment, I could forget I’d gotten myself involved in yet another potentially deadly mystery. I could forget that if anyone found out I had conspired with an Eye, I’d probably be killed in some sort of nasty, magical way.
But as I stood across from Archer, I couldn’t forget that I was completely, stupidly in love with the one person I could never have.
The laughter died on my lips, and I dashed at my eyes with the back of my hand. “I need to get back,” I said.
“Right,” he replied. He was still holding his sword in his right hand, and he twirled the hilt, the point scratching the wooden floor. “So this is it. We’re done.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat. “And I have to say, the world’s first and last Eye-demon reconnaissance mission went pretty well.” It was a struggle to meet his eyes, but I managed it. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, his dark gaze full of something I couldn’t quite read. “We were a good team.”
“We were.” In more ways than one, I thought. Which is why this sucked so bad.
I stepped back. “Anyway, I should go. See ya, Cross.” Then I laughed, only it sounded suspiciously like another sob. “Except I won’t, will I? So I guess I should say goodbye.” I felt like I was about to shatter into a million tiny shards, like the mirrors I’d broken with Dad. “Okay, well, best of luck with the whole Eye thing, then. Try not to kill anyone I know.” I turned away, but he reached out and caught my wrist.
I could feel my pulse hammering under his fingers. “Mercer, that day in the cellar…” He searched my face, and I could sense him struggling for what he wanted to say. Then finally, “I didn’t kiss you back because I had to. I kissed you because I wanted to.” His eyes dropped to my lips, and it was like the whole world had shrunk to just me and him and the shaft of light between us. “I still want to,” he said hoarsely. He tugged my wrist and pulled me into his arms.
My brain registered the sound of his sword clattering to the ground as his other hand came up to grab the back of my neck, but once his lips were on mine, everything else faded away. I clutched at his shoulders, raising up on my tiptoes, and kissed him with everything I had in me. As the kiss deepened, we held each other tighter, so I didn’t know if the pounding heartbeat I felt was mine or his.
How stupid, I thought dreamily, to have ever thought I could give this up. Not just the kissing, although, as Archer’s hands cupped my face, I had to admit that part was pretty awesome. But all of it: joking with him and working beside him. Being with a guy who was my friend and could still make me feel like this.
“Oh, Mercer,” he murmured against my temple once we’d come up for air, “we are so screwed.”
I pressed my face against his neck, breathing him in. “I know.”
“So what do we do?”
Reluctantly, I tried to move away. It was hard to think when he was so close to me. “If we were good people, we’d never see each other again.”
His arms locked around my waist, pulling me back. “Okay, well, that’s not happening. Plan B?”
I smiled up at him, feeling ridiculously giddy for someone on the verge of ruining her entire life. “I don’t have one. You?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. But…look. I’ve spent basically my whole life pretending to be someone I’m not, faking some feelings, hiding others.” Reaching down, he clasped my hand and lifted it so that our joined hands were trapped between our chests. “This thing with us is the only real thing I’ve had in a long time. You’re the only real thing.” He raised our hands and kissed my knuckles. “And I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”
I had read a lot about swooning in the romance novels Mom had tried to hide from me, but I’d never felt in danger of doing it until now. Which was why a snarky comment was definitely called for.
“Wow, Cross. I think you missed your calling. Screw demon hunting: you should clearly be writing Hallmark cards.”
His face broke into that crooked grin that was maybe my favorite sight in the whole world. “Shut up,” he muttered before lowering his head and kissing me again.
“Why is it,” I said against his lips several moments later, “that we’re always kissing in gross, dirty places like cellars and abandoned mills?”
He laughed, pressing kisses to my jaw, then my neck. “Next time it’ll be a castle, I promise. This is England, after all. Can’t be too hard to find one.”
We didn’t talk for a long time after that, and when we finally managed to break apart, the light in the mill was slightly brighter. “I have to go,” I said, resting my head against Archer’s chest. It occurred to me that my cheek was probably right over his tattoo. Without thinking, I lifted my face and tugged at the neckline of his T-shirt. This time, the stark black-and-gold mark wasn’t hidden. No need for that spell anymore, I guess. Still, I covered it with my palm. Archer’s hands clutched reflexively on my waist. Our eyes met. “It doesn’t burn this time,” I whispered.
His breathing was ragged. “Beg to differ, Mercer.”
Magic was rushing through me, and when Archer covered my hand with his own, there was a little blue spark. Slowly, he moved my hand off his chest, then gripped both my shoulders. I thought he was going to kiss me again—and with the way we were feeling, there was a chance we might set the whole mill on fire—but instead, he gingerly pushed me away. “Okay,” he said, closing his eyes. “If you don’t go now, we’re…You should go now.”
Once we were several feet apart, the lust-fog cleared a little. “We still have no idea what we’re going to do.”
Archer opened his eyes and took a couple of steps backward. “Right now, you’re going to go back to Thorne and check in with your dad. I’m going to go back to my people and do the same. Then tomorrow night, we’ll meet here. You’ll stand over there”—he pointed at a corner—“and I’ll stand over there”—the complete opposite corner—“and there will be no physical contact until we’ve figured something out. Deal?” I smiled, even as I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing him again. “Deal. Midnight?”
“Perfect. So.” That grin again. “See ya, Mercer.”
Happiness flooded through me as warm and bright as sunlight. “See ya, Cross.”