It’s funny to me how some stories end with more questions than there are answers. There was a time when that frustrated me. Now, it makes sense.

My aunt is the queen of strange stories. Most of the audiobooks she suggests I listen to—books I just have to read—are crazy, vivid, and full of more symbolism than answers.

Listening to them, I developed a love for philosophy. A love for looking at the world in a completely different way than most. Quite possibly, my curse has something to do with that, too.

Except I’m not sure I was ever truly cursed.

As soon as we land at my cabin, Desi transforms back into the mace, rolls himself up onto my porch, and settles there.

Inside, Lucas, who seems a little stronger than he did on the ridge, carefully peels away my shirt. Unsnapping my bra, he runs his hands over my skin. Cool heat flares beneath his touch as he heals me. From my back to my stomach.

He kisses the side of my neck.

This time, however, isn’t about me.

Spinning in his embrace, I push him toward my bathroom. “I’d ask you to have sex with me, so this would be a lot less awkward for you, but we’ve already done that.”

Lucas’s lips twitch, his gaze stroking my face, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he knows my courage only goes so far. If he speaks, I lose it.

I unbutton his pants, tugging them down over his hips before gently shoving him toward the beveled glass door. “Into the shower with you.”

Undressing, I step into the space with him. Water blasts, steam rising, and for the first time in hours, I’m not cold.

I can’t look at his face because I’m still learning to be more open, to be the kind of person who can meet someone’s gaze without looking away.

Focusing on his skin instead, I run my hands over his chest, over muscle and sinew and healing wounds he seems not to feel. They heal too fast, the water turning a dark shade of blue with the unnatural soot as it washes down the drain. Lucas is too much of everything. Too strong. Too inhuman. He’s even too much of an angel among angels. Water slips like rain, rivulets forming on his flesh, and I lean forward, my lips replacing my fingers.

His hand slips into my hair.

No words.

Steam, water, skin, and heavy breaths. This is how I will remember not dying. This is how I will remember pain and lust. This is how I will remember the moment when Lucas went from being a stranger to someone I could possibly fall for. If given the time.

I kiss every wound he has on his skin. I can’t heal him the same way he heals me, so I give him what I can as he heals himself. Comfort. Friendship. Understanding.

He lifts me in the shower, pressing me against the wall, and even though I start to protest because I know his body is weakened, he fills me.

My hands slide into his hair, and he kisses me.

Who needs words when lips say things that are too awkward to say out loud? Who needs anything except sensation and fulfillment?

I’ve often wondered why books say the world explodes and stars rain down when an orgasm hits. Now, I know. It’s not just the unmistakable pleasure ripping through me that makes stars dance before my eyes. It’s the fact that the world really does feel different.

We leave the shower, dry off, and fall into bed.

Together.

Lucas doesn’t sleep, but he does close his eyes. I find myself studying him, my gaze slipping from his golden hair to his rugged face and strong body. Even as muscular as he is, there is a sleek gracefulness to him when he moves. Confidence bred from an eternity of fighting.

Opening his eyes, Lucas smiles when he realizes I’m staring. “You really do have a nice home.”

He couldn’t have said anything more perfect.

“It really is, isn’t it?” I reply.

He opens his arms, and I tuck myself into them. “You’re making wise, independent choices.”

I laugh. “I’m assuming that means you were a wise, first-choice decision of mine.”

“The best.”

“Long term or short term?” I ask, because it needs to be asked.

Lucas doesn’t reply.

“What happened tonight?” I try again. I’ve puzzled out most of what I’ve learned. The revelations about who I am. “Shadows came to me, and Desi called me a summoner?”

Lucas turns his head, his gaze running over my face. “Those weren’t shadows. Those were ghosts. Specifically, Hell ghosts, which are a little different from earth ghosts but essentially the same.” Pulling me tighter against him, he breathes, “A summoner conjures demons and spirits. It’s not unlike what psychics do. Except psychics only channel spirits while a summoner controls them. Summoners can even conjure lower caste fallen angels, although if you ask them to do your bidding, you may regret it.”

I stare at him. “How am . . . I mean, I don’t—”

“Gillian was a summoner,” Lucas reveals. He runs his fingers down the side of my face. I’ve noticed he likes touching, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s with me or because he doesn’t get enough of it as a Seraph. “By saving your mother’s pregnancy, Gillian made you a part of her. You share her gifts.” His brows furrow. “And because Gillian was drawing so much on your energy for the ritual to help Levi escape, she created a connection between you and the Infernum. Which is why I can’t read all of your thoughts.”

My fingers capture his against my face. “I’ve had dreams. Most of them make sense now, but . . . but there was one . . .” I cringe. “There was one of me on top of a mountain, overlooking the town. A man, who I assumed was Levi, threatened Havenwood Falls. I’m not sure it was Levi now.”

Leaning forward, Lucas kisses me gently on the lips, his face close when he answers, “Being a psychic summoner can either be dangerous or powerful. Now that you know, you can learn to control it. Without control, spirits can use you. You don’t want that. You have a bright future, Harper. The dream is a warning that this town, because of what it is, is always in danger. That’s why you have the Court. That’s why having people like you they can call on is so important. You are going to be an asset here.”

He smiles. “I have to admit, you confuse me. That takes power. Some of the things that happened to you were Levi. Some were your powers waking up. I have theories, but maybe all Levi needed was your energy and blood and Gillian’s ritual. The Court is going to want to register you as a supernatural. Mortal blood flows through your veins, but you have the ability to call on spirits who would serve you. Who would kill for you if you asked.”

“And Gillian?” I ask.

“I don’t see them letting her live,” Lucas replies. Discomfort lines my eyes and face with troubled thoughts, and Lucas leans his forehead against mine. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let her live. Not only did she perform black magic on your mother, but she devised a way and a ritual to help a powerful demon escape a supernatural prison. That’s dangerous information.”

He pulls back and lifts my chin. “It took me and a legion of angels and demons to take down Levi hundreds of years ago. If I hadn’t fought him here straight after he escaped the prison and while his powers were weak, this wouldn’t have been an easy fight. Revenge blinded him. He wanted to imprison me in the Infernum, and he didn’t have the patience to wait years for his power to grow. Lack of patience has always been Levi’s downfall.”

His fingers tighten on my chin. “I want you to remember something. I came into this town prepared for the worst because that’s what truly great warriors do. It doesn’t matter how easy a fight seems, it can always turn. There are too many variables in battle. Be confident, but don’t let confidence blind you.”

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

The smile he gives me is sad. “I have a lot more enemies than just Levi. I am a risk the Court is not going to want to take, and I don’t blame them.”

My thoughts go immediately to the mountain man on the ridge. “There are other angels here.”

“Not my kind. Not with my history.”

I start to speak, but he stops me. “If you’re going where I think you’re going in your head, don’t. You just bought your first house. You have a new beginning here. A place where you’ll be safe, where you can finally be the psychic you were meant to be. There are people here you may finally be comfortable enough to get to know. People who need your help. Places you should go. Words won’t be dangerous for you anymore. Not once you learn how to control them.”

“Did you really think I was going to offer to go with you?” I ask, exaggerating the hurt expression I give him. “That’s a really high opinion you have of yourself.”

He cocks a brow.

“Okay,” I smile, “maybe I was going to suggest it, but I don’t think I would have meant it. I just hate,” my gaze drops, “that there’s no chance to see what this could have been. That there’s no chance to get to know you.”

“You’ve seen more of what I am outside of being an angel in the past couple of days than I’ve let anyone else see in a long time.”

I look at him, and this time, I make myself hold his gaze. “You remind me of a falling star. Something beautiful I saw fall from the sky, and then bam, gone.”

He grins, apparently okay with the analogy. “Did I make wishes come true before I left, at least?”

I nod.

He wraps me in his arms, our bodies pressed close. No barriers. Skin to skin. Beating heart against beating heart.

In the still room, he whispers, “Mortals can be falling stars, too.”