Chapter Three
PERCY CURLED UP on his chest, but Ryder barely slept. He stared at the ceiling and scratched behind Percy’s ears while the symbol on his hip continued to throb, reminding him that Liam had carved it there and drank his blood and watched him steal life from the plant under the window, and kissed him anyway.
His phone never rang.
Liam didn’t knock on the door in the middle of the night, but Ryder hoped he might.
The only unexpected visitor was a jet-black crow who tapped on his bedroom window with an equally jet-black beak.
“River?” Ryder sat up, and Percy jumped off the bed to investigate. “What’re you doing here?”
Jordan’s familiar, River, cawed and tapped again. He ruffled his feathers and held up one foot, where a crimson ribbon was tied around it, holding a tiny cinched bag.
Ryder opened the window and held out his arm. “You’re heavy,” he said softly, sagging under River’s weight. “What’d she send me?”
River nudged Ryder’s cheek with his beak and nibbled on his ear. Percy yowled from the floor, winding around Ryder’s ankles.
The note said:
Careful. It’s sharp.
-J
Ryder waved toward his altar and the candles lit. He huffed a laugh when River walked up his arm to settle on his shoulder. “I’ve never seen one of these in person,” he whispered, dropping the contents of the bag into his palm.
The silver reaver was slender and sharp. It fit over Ryder’s index finger easily, armored like scales across his digit and pointed at the tip like a blade. Every necromancer had one of their own—a small, concealable accessory that could be used as a tool or a weapon.
He curled his finger and stretched out his hand. The metal was cool and grounding against his skin. River cawed at him, nuzzled his temple, and hopped onto the windowsill. A second later, River was gone.
“So, this is it,” Ryder said. He glanced at Percy and shrugged. “I thought they only gave these to people after they were brought back.”
Percy looked up at him and yawned.
Ryder slid the reaver off his finger and set it on his altar next to an almost burned-out candle. He sent a quick text to Jordan. Thanks. Am I allowed to have this if I haven’t gone through the ceremony?
Our little secret.
Ryder had too many secrets, but one more wouldn’t hurt.
THE NIGHT WAS charged with eerie newness. It clung to Ryder like a second skin and emerged all around him as he walked down the dirt road that led to Tyler’s house, tucked away on the north end of the woods.
A full moon in Pisces meant aloofness and creativity. It also meant emotions, too many of them. They slipped around him like fish out of water, turning his thoughts back to the night before when he’d played with dark magic in his bed with Liam.
He fiddled with the reaver in his pocket and tilted his head back to look at the sky. Far away from the lights, on the outskirts of Port Lewis, the stars looked brighter next to the orange-stained moon above the treetops. These woods had seen sacrifices and death, Darbonne rituals and Thistle séances. They’d welcomed Lewellyn conclaves and went silent in the presence of cloaked Wolfe alchemists. He wondered if they knew what to do with a half-blood like him. He wondered if the trees could see his bloodline, how convoluted and ancient it was. If they knew where the boundaries blurred inside him. Fire burned in his bone marrow and stampeded through his veins. But darkness festered everywhere else.
The trees whispered around him in a different language, too otherworldly to be understood. He wondered if they knew the answer to all his unspoken questions.
If he died and came back, would his fire go out?
Could he burn away the darkness in him? Did he want to?
Voices sounded from Tyler’s property. He saw sparks from the fire pit outside rise into the air. Shadows gathered around it, other young witches from clans across the Pacific Northwest. Some came to be surrounded by their own, others had moved to Port Lewis after Thalia ascended as the Darbonne clan matriarch. He didn’t know many of them, but he still nodded to them as he walked by.
Tyler’s one-story house was shabby and old, sitting on two acres that disappeared into the forest in every direction. The same tired, rusted car was in the middle of the pasture behind the house, yards away adjacent an abandoned barn they used exclusively for spirit board sessions.
Ryder walked through the open front door. Christy glanced at him from the couch and tilted her head toward the kitchen. Give me a sec, she mouthed. He weaved through groups huddled close to the walls, holding the six-pack of cold beer by his side. The kitchen faced the living room, next to a wide hallway that led to four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Tapestries hung on the walls, portraits of deities and energy grids, amid framed photographs and family trees. Ryder opened a beer for himself and put the rest in the fridge. He watched Christy meditate with a group of pretty girls, until one of them opened her eyes and blurted something in a different language. Christy had been working on her channeling skills for a while, but Ryder had never seen anything come of it until then.
The girls clapped and sighed, patted and cooed. Ryder could taste their energy, the purity of it. He continued to fiddle with the reaver, tucked deep in his pocket.
“Hey,” Christy said. She eyed him with caution, as if he might grow fangs and snap at her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Ryder sipped his beer and glanced around, hoping no one else could hear their conversation.
“I’m psychic,” Christy hissed. Her hair was bundled into a colorful braid and a flower tiara sat atop her head like she was royalty. “You and Liam tethered. I felt it yesterday, and you didn’t tell anyone, and I want to know why. What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing is going on. We tethered, yeah, over a stupid fucking reading that no one needs to worry about, all right? It’s fine. We’re working it out.”
“What cards did you pull?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Christy pinched her small mouth. Her brow furrowed, and her energy prodded his thoughts.
“Stay out of my head,” Ryder bit. His magic pushed back against her, hot and dangerous. Steam filled his throat, but he swallowed it down. “This isn’t a circle problem; it’s an us problem.”
Liam’s voice cut through their conversation. “You’re here.”
Ryder glanced from Christy to Liam, who stood just outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall.
“Liam will tell me,” Christy said.
“We’re dating.” Liam sighed as he spoke. His shirt was pale blue and riddled with moth-eaten holes, and his jeans hung low on his hips like they always did, dark-washed and torn in the knee. “I pulled The Lovers.”
Christy whipped around to look at Liam before she turned toward Ryder again. “And you tethered?”
“Yes,” Liam snapped. “That’s the big secret.”
“Tyler doesn’t think dating within a circle is a good idea.” Christy eyed them both.
Ryder didn’t know what to say. Heat flooded his cheeks and steam manifested behind his teeth. He kept his eyes averted to the floor in case they turned black. He didn’t need a room full of witches pointing their magic at him, especially when he barely had control of his own.
“Don’t tell Tyler then,” Liam sang through a tight, sarcastic grin.
Christy tossed her braid over her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “It’s just the full moon,” she deadpanned, jumping back into her usual charm and positivity. “Everyone is really emotional right now, and I’m being a bitch. Just—” She flapped her hand at them. “—ignore me.”
A couple of other people slid into the kitchen to pour shots. Christy smiled at Ryder, half-apologetic, half-suspicious, and floated back to her group of light-workers, the tail of her white dress fluttering behind her.
Ryder could barely breathe.
Liam closed his fingers around his wrist and pulled. He stumbled down the hallway after him, focus stolen by Liam’s tight grip. His pupils dilated, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the charcoal that spread over his irises and fanned across his pupils to subside. It didn’t.
“In here,” Liam said.
Ryder let Liam push him into one of the bathrooms. The door shut. Ryder’s heart raced. His stomach flipped and churned. When he opened his eyes, Liam was looking back at him. He exhaled a deep breath and steam poured from his mouth.
“You’re okay,” Liam whispered. He placed one hand on Ryder’s cheek. The other rested low on his neck, thumb following the line of his jaw. “Breathe. Don’t let it control you.”
Ryder sucked in a deep breath and exhaled again. Steam dampened his lips and chin.
The bathroom lights were off, and Ryder was thankful Liam hadn’t turned them on. The darkness let things be still. It shrouded them, contained them, softened by slivers of light that slipped beneath and around the bathroom door. Ryder could still see Liam’s expression, the movement of his eyes and part of his lips. Laughter erupted from the bedroom next door. The house was filled with chatter and shouts. Loud, grimy electronica with a heavy, slow bassline rattled the air. Liam’s hands on his face were gentle and steady.
Ryder reached past Liam and locked the door. “We’re dating?”
“I had to say something,” Liam growled.
Ryder snorted and rolled his eyes.
“You okay?” Liam kept hold of Ryder’s face. Solid, fluid magic poured from his palms. Water flowed through Ryder, easing the tension that warred under his skin.
He caught the distinct outline of a small Band-Aid on Liam’s neck.
“Since when have you been this affectionate?” Ryder teased.
“Since I’ve needed to calm down an unstable necromancer in our best friend’s bathroom,” Liam said, a low grate to his voice that Ryder recognized as impatience. His tongue ran along the back of his teeth. Ryder listened to the click-clack, click-clack of his tongue ring. “Are you okay?” he repeated, more pointedly. The hand on Ryder’s neck fell to his waist and drifted under his shirt, fingertips tracing the symbol on Ryder’s hip.
“I’m fine. It’s just the moon,” he said, mocking Christy in a swoony voice.
“Yeah, it’s just the moon,” Liam agreed. He sounded winded and sore, unlike Liam in a way that was very Liam after all.
Ryder felt Liam’s heartbeat through the palm cupping his cheek. He tasted his magic, volatile and salty and alive. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted Liam to dig his fingernail into the cuts on his hip and break them back open. He wanted to be in control of something, anything. He wanted to make Liam moan and writhe and say his name.
“Did you set intention for tonight?” Ryder asked.
The darkness was thick around them. The full moon party went on outside the door, a cacophony of shouts and laughter and music.
Liam leaned back against the door. His hand fell away from Ryder’s face, but the other stayed put on his hip, fingertips drifting back and forth, up and down, across one line, over another. “I did,” he said. “But I don’t think it’ll matter.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because there’s no going back now.”
Ryder felt the sharp edge of the reaver against his finger. He withdrew his hand and slipped it on.
Liam held his breath. His gaze stayed pinned to Ryder’s hand. Even in the darkness, it was easy to spot the silver pointed talon—a necromancer’s blood-spilling tool. Liam didn’t move when Ryder slid his clawed hand under his shirt; he just shifted his eyes to Ryder’s face and waited.
Ryder scraped the tip of the blade lightly along the lines of Liam’s stomach. He dipped it in the hollow beneath his hipbones, dragged it between each rib and over his sternum. Liam’s eyes closed and he gasped, pushing against Ryder’s hand. He stashed the sound of Liam’s breath gusting from him away, memorizing the lift of his chest, the flutter of his eyelashes.
Someone banged on the door. Liam jumped and flinched when the reaver caught his skin.
“You done in there?” Another bang. “C’mon, hurry it up.”
Ryder shoved the reaver back in his pocket, flicked on the light, and glanced at himself in the mirror. Normal eyes. Flushed. Whatever, fuck it.
“Ry,” Liam hissed. He scrambled to grab Ryder’s hand, but Ryder opened the door and slipped past him, sending Liam stumbling backward into the hallway.
The person who’d interrupted them said, “Hey, whoa, sorry guys.”
Ryder grabbed the beer he’d left on the kitchen counter and darted through the living room toward the front door. He felt Christy’s energy before he saw her. She ducked out of his way, a flurry of questions on her face. Her magic formed another shield. He glanced at her and shook his head, silently telling her to let it be.
A few of the white witches who had been channeling with her on the couch squeaked and gasped. One clutched her chest. Someone said, “Did you feel that?” Another replied, “That’s dark magic. Who…?”
Ryder fled. He walked straight to the fire pit outside and focused on it, gathering enough energy to pull a patch of flames into his palm. He danced the glowing, sparking energy between his fingers in one hand. Other witches watched, either enamored or impressed or jealous.
He didn’t need their envy or approval, he needed a distraction.
“No parlor tricks, Ryder,” Tyler shouted from a bench he shared with Donovan. “You know the house rules.”
The flame expanded before it fizzled out in his palm.
He flipped Tyler off, which earned him a lungful of laughter, and stalked around the side of the house. A couple made out beneath a window. Someone smoked a joint. A few people were doing a reading, encircled in burning white candles.
He dipped under the wire fence that divided the house from the rest of the property and walked through the yellow grass to the old rusted car. It’d been there for years, a junky mesh of metal, looming on its own in the middle of the pasture, at least half a football field away from the party and the partygoers. His muscles loosened as he put space between himself and the conjoined energies of so many witches. The voices from outside the house faded, along with the music and drums. He sipped his beer, and turned his reaver over in his palm like he had the flame.
Breathe. Ryder took a heavy, deep breath. He couldn’t keep this secret for long. It would show itself in one way or another, in violence or blood or a burst of nervousness. He’d been keeping it for too long already, and now that it’d crept out, there was no way to force it back in.
The hood of the abandoned car faced the forest with the house behind it. Ryder sat atop it and looked at the sky. He replayed the sound of Liam’s gasp again and again, and fished in the pocket of his coat for the maroon pouch he knew was there. Heat built low in his abdomen. He ignored it. Black magic tickled his throat. He ignored it. Ryder shrugged off his coat, hoping the bitter November air would cool him down. It helped, marginally.
“Give me something,” Ryder whispered to the tarot cards as he shuffled them. “Anything.”
Focus. He pulled the first card.
The Lovers.
“Fuck you.” He shoved the card back into the deck. Shuffled. Shuffled. Shuffled.
C’mon. He pulled another card.
The Lovers.
Ryder fell back on the hood. There was no avoiding it or changing it or undoing it. He heard his mother’s voice in his mind. The cards never lie, sweetheart. But the cards could lie. Sometimes they did lie. And this reading had to be a lie, because Ryder had wanted Liam for too long to be allowed to have him now. He blinked at the sky and picked out constellations, even as footsteps shuffled through the grass behind the car. Virgo. One step closer. Beetlejuice. Another.
“Pisces,” Ryder said. He raised his arm and dragged it through the air, outlining where Pisces glowed against the night sky.
Liam leaned his hip against the car and nodded, arms folded tightly over his chest. “Where’s Aries?”
Ryder pointed far to the left. “You can barely see it, but it’s over there.”
Liam hummed. He tapped on the deck next to Ryder. “What’d you draw?”
“What do you think?”
Liam’s caramel eyes stayed pinned to Ryder. His hair was pushed off his face, and Ryder had a hard time not looking at him. He swallowed and kept staring at the sky instead, hoping his feigned disregard would be enough to send Liam back to the party.
“Was everything you said last night true?” Liam picked up the deck and shuffled it.
Ryder chewed on his bottom lip. “Does it matter?”
“Yeah.” Liam flicked the card he’d drawn. It landed on Ryder’s chest. “Especially when I can’t pull a single card other than that one.”
Ryder held it up. The Lovers. He slammed it down on top of the maroon pouch.
“Last night was circumstantial,” Ryder said softly.
“For you or for me?” Liam’s arms fell by his side. He moved to stand in front of Ryder’s bent legs.
Ryder’s nostrils flared. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “For you.”
A hand circled Ryder’s wrist and pulled him upright. The tip of his nose brushed Liam’s cheek and their mouths hovered inches apart, breath warm in the autumn air. The full moon shone down on them, urging their magic to stitch together, to tangle and twist.
“We tether, I do blood magic with you, I kiss you, what more proof do you need?” Liam snapped the words close to Ryder’s mouth.
Ryder swallowed hard. “I don’t need anything…” Liam’s hand on his leg stole the rest of what he wanted to say. The press of his fingers on the inside of Ryder’s thigh was senseless and dizzying. The way Liam pushed until he opened his knees and slid between them caused the heat swelling low in Ryder’s gut to pulse.
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want then?”
That was a loaded question. Ryder wanted an absurd number of things, most unreachable, some in front of him. He wanted to get rid of his dark magic almost as much as he wanted to play with it. He wanted to set a fire inside Liam, and ask the trees if they could answer the riddle of his existence, spend more time with his sister and learn Latin. He wanted to be what he was without question or doubt. But mostly, Ryder wanted Liam, so he closed the space between them and kissed him.
It turned into Liam’s hands under his shirt, and Ryder’s hands on Liam’s face, pulling him closer. They kissed like they had hours before, after their magic had calmed and the night was still—unburdened and deep and breathless. Liam was an exceptionally good kisser. Ryder had heard he was, but it was different being on the receiving end of his teeth and lips and tongue. He kissed slowly, like time was an irrelevant onlooker simply waiting for them to finish.
Ryder didn’t think he’d ever finish kissing Liam. His thumb traced the seam of their mouths and he tried to steady his breathing, inhaling what Liam exhaled.
Liam dug his fingers into his ribcage and Ryder moaned, soft and encouraging between the parting of their lips.
“Tell me where I can touch you,” Liam said against his mouth. His hand drifted over the top of his jeans, and slid between Ryder’s legs, waiting.
Yes. Ryder nodded. Touch me.
“You have to tell me.”
Desire pooled in his wrists and legs and kneecaps. Ryder’s body begged him to keep going. “Fuck, just—yeah, yes, but I’m not, I don’t—”
“Yeah, I know, I get it.” Liam pinched Ryder’s bottom lip between his teeth. “Just tell me to stop if I do something wrong, okay?”
“You have to start to stop, Princess.” Ryder’s hips canted, and Liam pressed the heel of his palm down, rubbing Ryder through his jeans. Distantly Ryder thought, he knows. He clutched the back of Liam’s head with one hand and held himself on the car with the other. “Fuck, we’re really doing this?”
Liam’s hand was gone for a second, before he flicked the button open on Ryder’s jeans, and slid his palm under the waistband of his briefs.
Heat rushed into Ryder’s cheeks. He’d been touched before, but not in a while, and not by anyone he cared about. He’d had meaningless hookups after too many drinks, and one-night-stands with other witches. But Liam was different.
Ryder rolled his hips when Liam’s fingers pressed against him, warm and careful. There was a moment of hesitation. Liam’s hand stilled and his eyes narrowed, lips parting in something close to surprise, but not quite. Ryder chewed on his bottom lip and nodded, and Liam didn’t stop. His back hit the hood when Liam pushed him down against it, and he opened his mouth when Liam kissed him, welcoming another hot breath and the smooth tease of Liam’s tongue ring. Ryder moved against Liam’s nimble fingers, his touches sure and firm, but they were gone too soon.
He didn’t know what to say, if he should say anything at all, but before he could catch his breath, Liam’s teeth sank into his throat, then his collarbone.
Liam crawled down Ryder’s body, lips and teeth leaving a trail of vibrant bruises wherever they stopped. He pushed Ryder’s shirt up and kissed his chest, bit the curve of his ribs and sucked hickeys on his stomach. When he made it to Ryder’s hips, he was on his knees. It happened quickly. First, he was choking back a whimper while Liam chewed on his hipbone. Second, he was lifting his hips and Liam was tugging his jeans down. Third, he was arching off the hood of the car, gasping with his eyes squeezed shut.
The full moon beamed down on them and glowed on Ryder’s skin. He felt it in the heat throbbing between his legs, in Liam’s arm across his waist, in the softness of his mouth, hot and perfect, around Ryder’s clit. He tried to keep quiet, but it was no use. Liam’s tongue was clever and quick, and when his fingers slid inside him, Ryder cried out.
“Don’t stop,” Ryder sobbed, embarrassed by the weakness of his voice. He dug his fingernails into the back of Liam’s skull and held him there, open mouthed and on his knees, taking Ryder’s magic and body apart with the curl of his fingers and stroke of his tongue.
Liam’s fingers twisted. He moaned against him—into him—and Ryder couldn’t have dreamed a sound like that.
Desire coiled tight in Ryder’s abdomen. Magic sped through him, around him, on top of him. A breath shattered the night—fast and whimpered and quivering, before warmth spread from the base of his spine into each of his limbs. It shot through his stomach, into his lungs and throat. Everything shook apart. Everything came together.
Steam gusted the air in front of Ryder’s mouth and he went boneless beneath the light of the full moon. He stared at the night sky and counted each breath, three seconds in, three seconds out. His orgasm lingered, drawn out by Liam’s persistent mouth, made painful, then wonderful, then painful, then blinding.
“Okay, okay,” Ryder hissed, shifting his thighs off Liam’s shoulders.
Liam slid up Ryder’s body and set his hands on either side of Ryder’s shoulders. His mouth was slick, lips swollen and overworked. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.
“You didn’t care two seconds ago,” Ryder mumbled.
Liam’s grin was sharp and playful. He shook his head and stifled a laugh. “I don’t, but—”
“But nothing.” Ryder pulled on the nape of Liam’s neck until he leaned down to kiss him. Ryder tasted himself and smoke and power in Liam’s mouth. “Now you know,” he said, and dragged his lips across Liam’s cheek. His hand snaked between them, over Liam’s stomach, between his legs. Ryder gripped him through his jeans.
Liam’s hips rocked forward, gasp muffled against Ryder’s neck.
A voice echoed from the fence. “Ry? Liam?”
Of course, it was Tyler.
A frustrated groan drifted over Liam’s lips. His dark lashes fluttered and he heaved a sigh. “We’ll be right there,” he called and pawed Ryder’s hand away so he could stand up.
“You’re like a well-trained puppy,” Ryder said. He tugged his pants back up, and shoved his hands in his pockets, fiddling endlessly with the cold edge of his reaver. “We don’t have to run whenever he calls, you know.”
“Would you rather him come find us?”
Ryder blinked at the ground. He was still wet and pulsing between his legs. His hands still shook, his knees were still weak. He touched his neck with two fingers where Liam had bit him.
“Glamour it,” Liam said. He bumped his shoulder against Ryder’s and nodded toward the house. Music still thrummed in the air. People still beat on drums. The full moon was still high in the sky. Everything was up in the air, answerless and daunting.
“Why didn’t you glamour yours?” Ryder grabbed his deck and beer and shrugged on his jacket.
Liam glanced over his shoulder as he paced toward the house. “I tried.”
“And?”
“It didn’t work. Water magic isn’t used to cover things, you know that. Glamour isn’t my specialty.”
Ryder stayed quiet. He stitched a sheet of magic over his neck where the marks from Liam’s teeth were, and slipped under the wire fence when Liam held it for him. Most of the partygoers had disappeared, but a few remained. A couple of girls pounded the smaller drums. The shouts and laughter had faded into soft chatter and lingering spell-work.
Tyler stood by the fire. He nodded to Ryder and Liam as they approached.
“We need to talk,” Tyler said. He didn’t seem angry, but worry flashed across his face. His gaze shifted around cautiously, from one person to the next. “My room.”
They followed him inside. Christy stood up from the couch where she was surrounded by psychics and mediums. One of them, a girl with short pink hair, stared at Ryder, wide-eyed and skittish. Christy trailed after them through the last door on the left at the end of the hall. Donovan sat cross-legged on Tyler’s bed, his auburn hair arranged messily, wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He picked at a bit of green nail polish on his thumb and heaved a sigh.
“Did you tell them?” Donovan asked. His gaze flicked from Christy to Tyler.
Tyler closed and locked the door. “There’s a darkling here, or there was.”
Ryder bristled. “You mean a necromancer?”
“A dark witch. One of Christy’s light-workers felt black magic earlier, a lot of it. We don’t know if it was a necromancer or not.”
“Could’ve been me,” Ryder said and shrugged. Liam’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent. “I saw Jordan last night for a while. Everyone knows darkling energy sticks around.”
“Yeah,” Christy interrupted. She leaned toward Ryder from a few feet away. Her nostrils flared. “You smell like her—like you’re covered in blood.”
“She smells like Cartier, actually. But yeah, I get it. Could’ve just been residual energy.” Ryder fiddled with the reaver in his pocket, passing it across his palm, feeling the tip with his finger. “Where’d you even hear that term, Tyler?”
Tyler’s brow furrowed. “It’s common in the Thistle clan. I heard them using it at Thalia’s ascension when…”
“When the Wolfes showed up?”
The air thickened. Tyler’s Air magic stirred uncomfortably. Donovan looked at his lap and Liam’s gaze fluttered toward the walls, covered in scribbled spells and shelves filled with crystals—celestite, amethyst, apophyllite, selenite. Tyler’s altar was clean and orderly on his nightstand beside the bed. The pale gray candles there flickered and sparked.
“Can we not fight, please?” Christy whined. She pulled the lace cuffs of her long-sleeves into her palms and twisted them.
“Who’s fighting?” Ryder snapped. His magic flared, urging him on. “I’m not fighting.”
“Ryder,” Liam warned lowly.
“What’s up with you, Ryder? They’re darklings, they syphon energy, they practice unnatural magic. I’m sorry your babysitter’s one of them, but it’s the truth.” Tyler’s magic whipped the tension around. “They’re thieves. They steal energy to redistribute it and they break every rule in the book when it comes to magic, you can’t honestly—”
Ryder’s pupils expanded across the whites of his eyes. He cut himself on the reaver in his pocket and winced. Anger turned his magic into a primal, vicious force. It ripped through him, fast and explosive. “I can’t what, Ty?” His voice deepened. Screams and howls echoed underneath it. Steam leaked from his lips.
Control never had been one of Ryder’s finer gifts.
Liam placed his palm on Ryder’s stomach and gave a little push, urging Ryder behind him.
Tyler stumbled backward. Donovan pressed himself in the corner on Tyler’s bed. Christy’s lips thinned, as if she’d had an inkling and it’d just been confirmed.
“You?” Tyler spat. His eyes widened and he heaved in a deep breath. “Since when?”
“Ty, let it be,” Liam hissed.
“Since birth!” Ryder’s eyes stung. His hands balled into fists. “Jordan’s my sister, by the way. She’s not some…” His voice calmed, but something haunting still echoed around each word. “Twisted, unapproachable thing.”
“You lied?” Tyler’s voice sounded like a crack of thunder. His magic gusted between their bodies and blew the candles out on his altar. “You’re not a Lewellyn?”
“You’ve met my mother; you know I’m a Lewellyn.”
Christy inched toward the locked door. “His father is Gerard Wolfe,” she whispered. “He practiced blood magic…”
Ryder whipped toward her. “Get out of my head, Christy.”
“You knew about this? You…” Christy looked Liam up and down. Tyler’s gaze followed.
Liam swallowed hard. “Everything happened really fucking fast, okay? I found out last night. But it doesn’t change anything, we’re still circle-mates. Everybody needs to cool it.” He pushed harder on Ryder’s abdomen. “You too.”
Opal’s white wings flapped outside Tyler’s window. She screeched and pecked at the glass. Liam glanced at Ryder, then at the window. He asked questions with his eyes that Ryder didn’t have the answers to.
Outside the door, partygoers went quiet. Do you feel that? Dark magic. It’s coming from Tyler’s room.
“Ty?” someone called.
Ryder warned Tyler with his narrowed, pitch-black eyes.
Christy’s hand hovered over the doorknob.
“Don’t,” Donovan said quietly from the bed. “I mean… It’s not… Thalia’s dating a necromancer, isn’t she? This is old world shit, guys.”
“Calling necromancers ‘darklings’ is old world shit,” Ryder snapped. “And she’s dating my sister, so yes.”
Power flooded the house. It happened within seconds. Ryder was snarling at his friends with Liam in front of him one instant, then he was listening to Thalia’s sharp voice scold someone as she made her way down the hall.
“Let me handle this,” Thalia growled. Her power surged. It made Ryder dizzy.
“Move.”
Jordan’s energy rushed in before she did. Black smoke leaked under the door. Christy moved back in enough time to dodge it as it was flung open. She floundered to the other side of the room and huddled on the bed with Donovan. Tyler shriveled from the tall, cloaked woman with black fog whipping around her feet. He glanced once at Ryder, accusatory and unnerved.
Jordan raked her gaze from Ryder to Tyler. Her eyes were jet black. When she exhaled, steam dampened her chin.
“Are you all right?” Jordan asked softly, her hand outstretched toward Ryder. Her voice was as haunting as his, but more, somehow. The voices of everyone she’d ever killed and brought back stained her.
“What’re you doing here?” Ryder hissed. “I’m fine!”
“You’re not,” Jordan mumbled. She glanced at Liam. “Your familiar found River while Thalia and I were meditating in the woods. She’s a good bird. Not scared of necromancers.”
“She’s been around one for two years,” Liam said softly. His fingers curled into Ryder’s jacket, trying to push him back more.
Thalia stepped into the room next to Jordan. “Secrets,” she said to Ryder, the same way someone would say I told you so.
Ryder looked at the floor. His eyes returned to their Lewellyn green, but his hands didn’t stop shaking. He touched the top of Liam’s hand and Liam’s fingers laced through his, giving a slight squeeze.
“Are you scared?” Jordan hissed at the three huddled on the bed.
“Jordan,” Thalia scolded.
“What?” Jordan’s teeth snapped down and more steam trickled over her lips.
“Yes,” Thalia droned, “of course they’re scared.”
“We’re not evil.” Jordan’s magic lunged for them, twisting and bending above their heads. The heaviness of it almost made Ryder nauseous. He couldn’t imagine how the others were handling it.
Thalia set her hands on Jordan’s shoulders and gave a gentle push. “Take those two,” she said calmly, nodding toward Ryder and Liam, “and I’ll handle this.”
“He’s my little brother,” Jordan seethed at Tyler. “Remember that.”
Thalia’s knuckles whitened as she pushed on Jordan’s shoulders again, straining against her.
“Jordie,” Ryder groaned. “Just stop. C’mon, I need a ride home.”
Jordan pursed her lips. The black fog that circled her feet dissipated, but her eyes were still pools of midnight. She curled her top lip back in a snarl, a shared gesture between the siblings, and her mouth spread into a wicked grin.
“Christy, is it? You’re the Carroway girl?” Jordan asked.
Thalia’s power swelled. Christy stayed silent, but her eyes went wide.
“Bet your mother didn’t tell you I put breath back into her lungs four years ago, did she?” Jordan’s voice was chilling and deathly cold. “It’s always easy to look down on magic you don’t understand until you need it.”
“That’s not your place!” Thalia’s eyes glowed gold. She shoved Jordan backward and waved her arm toward the hallway. Jordan’s magic was virtually unshakable, but so was Thalia’s. When they collided, it sent a ripple through the air that Ryder felt in his bones. Thalia said, “I’ll meet you at the loft in an hour.” It was a command, not a question.
Jordan stomped away, but not before grabbing Ryder’s arm and hauling him with her. Ryder’s fingers slipped from Liam’s grasp, but Liam followed nonetheless.
“Really?” Tyler blurted. “You’re going with him?”
Ryder glanced over his shoulder. Liam answered by slamming the door.
“Good choice, fish,” Jordan said under her breath.
Liam’s cheeks darkened, but he simply sighed and walked close to Ryder as they exited the empty house. The other witches must’ve fled after feeling the rise and clash in Tyler’s bedroom. He didn’t blame them. Jordan and Thalia’s arrival was enough, but mix that with his magic, Liam’s, Tyler’s, even Christy’s white light, and it turned into a cocktail of energy that was too tense to swim through.
Cool night air hit Ryder’s face. It tasted like 2 a.m. Too late to be considered morning, and too early to still be night. The witching hours were weighed down with finality, and yet nothing seemed final. Ryder felt as up in the air as he’d ever been.
“Here.” Jordan searched the pocket of her hooded black trench and handed him a joint. The paper was decorated with tiny yellow pineapples, which brought a smile to Ryder’s face. She caught the roll of his eyes and lifted her brows at him. “It’ll help.” Her eyes faded to their normal dark brown. “Trust me.”
Opal landed on Liam’s shoulder and screeched at Ryder.
River circled above them, cawing and cawing.
“Yeah, hi, Opal.” Ryder glanced from the owl to Liam. He saw the conflict on Liam’s face, strewn across his brow and present in the hard set of his shoulders. “You didn’t have to come.”
They walked side by side, dipping into the woods to trail after Jordan. The trees seemed to shift around them, huddling close to whisper to one another. Ryder wondered what they said, if it was bone bender and darkling over and over, or if they were talking about his future, if he had one at all. Moss climbed their trunks, and clusters of gray-capped mushrooms popped up between their knobby roots.
Liam’s jaw slackened. He shook his head and looked from Ryder’s scuffed black boots to his nose. “Seriously? Even after tonight you’re still skeptical?”
“You went down on me on the hood of a car,” Ryder said through a sigh. He pinched the joint between his teeth and inhaled. The tip sparked and smoke filled his lungs. “Don’t give yourself that much credit.”
A few steps ahead of them, Jordan threw her head back and laughed.
“Has wanting you all this time been a waste?” Liam asked quietly.
“Lovers’ quarrels after I drop you off, please,” Jordan said over her shoulder.
Ryder’s gaze shot sideways. Liam didn’t look at him, he just tipped his head back to look at the sky and kept walking.
Jordan: You’re so mean to him.
Ryder: I’m not.
Jordan: You are. Did he really go down on you on the hood of a car?
Ryder: Is that a serious question?
Jordan: If the answer is yes then you should probably keep him.
Ryder: Lots of people would go down on me on the hood of a car.
Jordan: But none would stick around.
Ryder frowned at his phone.
Jordan: Since you have such a winning personality and all.
Ryder: Fuck you. Thanks for tonight.
Jordan: Yeah yeah. You need to talk to Dad though.
Ryder: Later.
He placed his phone on the kitchen counter and waited for the kettle to start whistling. Percy meowed at him from the couch, perched comfortably in Liam’s lap.
“Do you want tea?” Ryder asked.
They hadn’t turned on the lights. The plants curled and swayed in the presence of their magic, tame and tempered. After the outburst of energy at Tyler’s, Ryder wasn’t surprised to find his magic sated under his skin. Jordan’s pre-rolled helped too. Liam stroked Percy’s back and nodded.
He strained the tea leaves and poured two cups. Everything was silent but for Opal’s soft coos and Percy’s purring.
“Here.” Ryder handed Liam a cup. “I’m taking a shower.”
Liam sipped the tea and nodded.
“Are you staying?”
“Do you want me to?”
Ryder’s stomach lurched. His lungs tightened painfully, but instead of dodging the question, he nodded. “Yeah.”
Liam didn’t look at him. He just kept petting Percy and stared down at his lap.
Ryder stalked into his bedroom before he could say or do anything else to ruin whatever they’d started. Had anything started? Or was everything a mess of circumstances coming together soon to be dismissed or forgotten? Liam was there, in his apartment. Liam was there, offering to stay, and still Ryder’s uncertainty crept between them. He turned on the shower, prepped a fresh syringe, and stripped. The heat fogged the mirror, obscuring his reflection. He waved a hand into his bedroom and the candles lit, then the incense.
A deep breath later and he was sliding the needle into his thigh.
“Does it hurt?” Liam asked. His magic stirred the air before he did, but Ryder didn’t bother turning around.
“Yeah,” Ryder said. He pulled the syringe back, capped the needle, and opened the cabinet to drop it in a red container. Embarrassment nagged at him, which was ridiculous considering what they’d done. Ryder resisted the urge to glamour himself. “Just like any other shot does.”
Liam’s fingers dusted the wing of his shoulder blade. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
Lips touched his neck, faint and timid. “Did you mean it?” Liam’s mouth traced the shell of Ryder’s ear. “When you said you were in love with me, were you serious?”
“We’re in a circle. We all love each other,” Ryder said. A hot blush dripped across the bridge of his nose.
Liam hummed. His pants hit the floor, followed by the rest of his clothes. He nudged Ryder toward the shower. “That’s not an answer.”
The water was hot enough to turn Ryder’s skin pink and make Liam flinch, but neither of them bothered to turn it to a cooler setting. Liam’s hands rested on Ryder’s hips, his chest pressed along Ryder’s back. Were you serious? He didn’t know what to say—if there was anything to say. Yes, he did love Liam. Yes, he had meant it. But after tonight, he didn’t want to get into the details of it.
Instead, he took Liam’s hand from its place on his waist and pulled it to his stomach, slid it over his bellybutton, past his hipbones, between his legs.
Liam’s fingers pressed against him, rubbing in slow, teasing circles. He smiled against Ryder’s throat. “Still not an answer.”
Ryder chewed on his bottom lip. His back arched and he dug his fingernails into Liam’s wrist, feeling the tendons flex every time he moved. His other hand was firm against the shower wall, head bowed and eyes closed. Liam’s free hand coiled around Ryder’s chest and settled low on his throat.
“Do you need an answer right now?” Ryder bit back a soft moan when Liam’s index and middle fingers pressed hard against his clit.
Liam shook his head. The hand on Ryder’s throat crept below his chin, and Liam pushed his head to expose the long line of Ryder’s neck. He bit and kissed, sinking his teeth in deep when Ryder’s hips rolled against his palm.
Ryder whimpered when he came. He gasped and his spine bent, fingers scrambling to clutch Liam’s wrist.
His heartbeat was a symphony. Magic buzzed contentedly under his skin. Fuck, why hadn’t they been doing this for weeks or months or years? Why hadn’t they taken showers together, or been in bed together, or fucked on old rusty cars, until the week Ryder’s dark magic decided to go haywire?
He craned away from Liam’s teeth in his neck to turn around. Water dripped off Liam’s eyelashes and the tip of his nose. It clung to his lips and beaded up on his shoulders. He looked beautiful covered in his element, glimmering and powerful and relaxed. His eyes were half-curtained, dancing around Ryder’s face.
Somehow, the shower hadn’t gone cold. Ryder pressed his hand flat against Liam’s chest and forced him against the white tiled wall out of the water’s reach. He kissed Liam hard, because he could, and because they were alone, finally. Liam’s tongue dipped smoothly between his lips, stroking against his own and clicking against the back of Ryder’s eyeteeth. It went on like that, with Ryder sucking on Liam’s tongue, and Liam panting into his mouth, until he reached between them and wrapped his fingers around Liam’s cock.
Liam’s breath turned shaken and weak. The sound of it, labored inhales followed by quivering exhales, brought a coy smile to Ryder’s face.
“What do you want?” Ryder asked.
Liam’s hand rested on his cheek. His thumb slipped into Ryder’s mouth, and he hummed appreciatively when Ryder flicked his tongue against it.
He kissed Liam’s palm, leaned forward and kissed his lips, then dropped to his knees.
Liam traced Ryder’s cheekbone, his jaw and bottom lip, and he sucked in a sharp breath when Ryder’s mouth dragged along the underside of his cock. He tasted like the sea, like melted snow and fresh rain.
“Is this okay?” Liam gripped his chin and tugged him, pulling Ryder where he wanted.
Ryder glanced at him from under his lashes and gave a curt nod. Two of Liam’s fingers pressed between his lips, and Ryder opened his mouth, sucking hard until his throat flexed.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” Liam asked, voice low under the sound of water splattering the shower floor.
Ryder scraped his teeth across Liam’s digits, kissed his hipbones, bit his inner thigh, and then closed his lips around Liam’s cock.
A deep, gritted moan echoed in the shower. Ryder loved it. He loved the roughness, and the little bit of pain. He loved the weight of Liam in his mouth, the way his throat fluttered when Liam pushed on the back of his head. He watched Liam through his lashes and fought another jump in his throat when Liam’s hips jerked and he slid deeper, grip tight on the nape of Ryder’s neck.
He held onto Liam’s legs and flattened his tongue, sucking hard whenever Liam pulled back and gave him room to breathe. Ryder’s jaw was sore, but he didn’t care. Liam’s gasps and whines were clipped and breathy, softer than Ryder imagined they would be. He swallowed around Liam until his eyes watered, and pulled his magic to the surface. Heat filled his mouth, and Liam choked back another moan. He was slick between his legs, but he was too over-sensitive to touch himself.
“Fuck, Ry,” Liam whispered. A low groan rumbled in his throat. He dug his fingernails into Ryder’s skull, the only warning he was given before Liam pulled back and came on his face, across his mouth and jaw and cheek.
Ryder rested his forehead against Liam’s hip and caught his breath. He felt used and dirty and light, the sexiest he’d ever felt. He closed his eyes when Liam’s shaky hand stroked the back of his head, sighed when Liam thumbed come off the side of his mouth and cupped his face.
Liam had moved the water, bending it to his will until it lifted from the showerhead and poured down on them. It was lukewarm, verging on cold. Ryder pressed his lips to Liam’s hip, kissed the tight skin stretched across his abdomen, and trailed his mouth to his chest and collarbones as he stood.
Liam’s head was tilted back against the shower wall. His gaze rested on Ryder, lips parted, cheeks flushed, vulnerable in a way Ryder hadn’t seen him before. Their small piece of the world was quiet, shadowed by a dark apartment and a darker magic, waiting for them to move or breathe or break it apart.
Ryder reached back to turn the shower off.
Liam leaned forward and caught his lips in a quick, fluid kiss.
There was still an air of caution between them. Their uncertainty watched from the corners, blinking from the darkness, waiting for the chance to convince one of them to flee. Ryder didn’t know if the reading had pushed them to each other, or the darkness, or his long-term feelings, or Liam’s hidden fondness.
Maybe they were just going through the motions like two people would when they’d been put in a situation like theirs.
Maybe it would pass and they’d stay friends, and never speak of it again.
They dried off and Ryder gave Liam a pair of clean briefs to wear for the night. Opal bounced into the bedroom and perched on the top of the vanity. Percy slept on the windowsill while rain pitter-pattered the glass.
Ryder stared at the ceiling as he lay in bed next to Liam. He felt eyes on him, but didn’t have the courage to look. So much could be said in a glance, and Ryder didn’t know if he’d say the right thing if he took the chance to gaze back at Liam after what they’d done together—to each other.
The quiet turned into the rhythm of Liam’s soft breath as he slept, rain on the window, a breeze rustling the tree branches outside, and Ryder’s magic stirring restlessly in his chest.