Alyson Noel - Horizon

“Nah, I think I’ll run.”

He lifts a brow.

“May as well squeeze in a workout before the temperature has a chance to shoot into the triple digits again.”

“You know it’s okay to take a break now and then?”

I choose to ignore that. I can’t afford breaks. Can’t afford to let down my guard.

“Fine. Then at least wear this to keep the sun off your face.” He tosses me a baseball cap advertising a surf brand. “And say hey to Axel.” He follows me out the front door and down the rickety steps that lead to the parking lot.

“At least he agreed to live with me.” I glance over my shoulder, wait for Dace to catch up.

“The way I remember it, he had no where else to go.” He squeezes my hand, gives a good-natured grin.

“And you’re not even the least bit jealous?” I angle my face toward his, catching the amused glint in his eyes.

“You serious?” He shakes his head. “Jealous of Axel?”

“Yeah, of Axel,” I say, feeling inexplicably defensive, but then my emotions are all over the place. “A single guy who’s actually pretty good-looking if you like tall, strong, angelic types with lots of muscles and lavender eyes. He was practically moved into my old room before I could even finish making the offer.”

Dace stops beside his truck. “Daire, I’m not jealous of Axel. For one thing—he was my spirit guide since I was a baby, and he still feels the need to look after me even though he’s officially been stripped of the title. For another—I trust you. I trust in our love. After all, I am the optimist, remember?”

“And third?” I place a hand on my hips. “I can see it in your eyes, there’s a third.”

“And third—do I even need to mention Lita?” He laughs, causing his irises to glimmer in a way that’s mesmerizing. “You may be the Seeker, but are you seriously willing to get between Lita Winslow and the professed love of her life?”

I dip my head and sigh, chasing it with a groan for good measure. Since the moment school ended, Lita has devoted her entire summer to being with Axel. Which means she’s been a permanent fixture in my den—when they’re not holed up in his room.

Yet another star-crossed romance that was doomed before it could properly start.

Or at least according to Paloma who warned me it would never amount to anything good.

Paloma was pragmatic. A realist, like me. And while it’s really quite refreshing to be around a true believer like Dace, I can’t quite convince myself to join him in that eternally happy place.

“Lita’s pretty territorial where Axel’s concerned. I’m not sure even someone as powerful as the Seeker could forge a wedge between them,” Dace says, breaking me out of my reverie, and proving, once again, just how tuned in he is to my moods.

“Speaking of powerful . . .” I leave the question to dangle, there’s no need to finish. We both know I’m referring to last New Year’s Eve when all hell broke loose and Dace found himself in the grips of an incredible shift he couldn’t quite shake, didn’t want to shake, as he tells it.

Though despite his optimism, I know he’s concerned it might’ve been the result of the dark bit of soul he stole from his brother that’s still lodged inside. And I can’t say I’ve ruled it out either.

“No sign of the beast.” He opens the door of his truck and tosses his bag onto the seat. “Must be lying dormant.” He turns back to me and tilts his face toward the sun, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Sure you don’t want a ride? Looks like it’s gonna be another scorcher.”

I shake my head, shake out my limbs. Try to loosen them up for the long run ahead.

“Okay, then.” He climbs into his truck. “See you tonight?”

I nod.

“Your place, my place, or the Enchanted Spring?” He closes the door between us and leans out the driver’s side window.

“My place.” I make a face when I say it. Still feels weird to refer to it as mine, and not Paloma’s, but I’m quick to push the thought from my head. “Xotichl and Auden are stopping by. And of course, Lita and Axel will be there.”

Dace gives me a swift kiss goodbye and revs up his truck, as I take a deep breath, adjust my cap, and break into a run.

LITA

I pop the oven door open and frown. Despite following Paloma’s recipe to the letter, my blue-corn muffins don’t smell like Paloma’s, don’t look like Paloma’s, and how come they’re all sunken in the middle instead of fat and fluffy like hers always were?

“How long have you been awake?”

Axel pads into the kitchen, raking a hand through his platinum-blond, sleep-tousled curls as I slam the oven door closed, and hope that between now and the next five minutes when the timer goes off, some of Paloma’s kitchen magick will begin to kick in.

Though deep down inside I know the truth—Paloma is the missing ingredient. There’s just no replacing her. Most likely we’ll be having stale bagels for breakfast again.

I toss an oven mitt onto the counter and sigh. “Couldn’t sleep. And I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought I’d make us some breakfast. But, from the looks of things, that’s going to require a miracle, so don’t get your hopes up.” I allow my gaze to roam the expanse of his smooth, well-muscled chest, down the length of his finely chiseled abs, all the way to the elastic waistband of his new gray sweatpants.

“As a Mystic, I’ve worked plenty of miracles.” He crosses the kitchen until he’s standing before me, lowering his head to drop a kiss onto my lips. “How bad is it?” He glances toward the oven. “Should I perform a healing?” He wraps his arms around me, holds me tight at the waist, and centers his deep purple gaze on mine.

“I’m pretty sure it’s well beyond that. But, you could fix your sweatpants.” I jerk the tag at his waist. “They’re on backward.”

He casts a sheepish glance down the length of him and laughs. “Thought they felt a bit off. Loose in some places, snug in others. Guess I’m still not used to these things.”

“You mean, pants?” I stifle a giggle. Enjoying the spectacle of watching him drop them to the floor and getting ’em turned right around without a hint of embarrassment, as I sneak an anxious glance toward the door. The last thing I need is for Daire to walk in and catch Axel standing naked in her kitchen. “Guess it takes some getting used to.” I cock my head to the side, feigning a look of deep thought. “After all, the separate leg holes do require an entirely different skill set from wearing a dress.”

“Tunic.” Axel smiles, grasps me about the waist once again. “In the Upperworld, I wore a tunic. The females wore dresses.”

“An important distinction.” My gaze makes a greedy feast of his face, wondering if I’ll ever grow tired of looking at him.

“Glad to clear that up.” He grins. “But what I don’t understand is why I’m required to wear anything at all when, according to you anyway, you prefer to see me in my most natural state.”

“Axel!” I press a hand to my lips, swallow a self-conscious giggle. All too aware of my cheeks turning the full spectrum of red. Normally I wouldn’t be embarrassed by a statement like that. Normally I would volley right back with something equally flirtatious. But the way Axel delivers it with such sincerity, such guileless honesty, the best I can ever do is blush in response.

While he’s certainly manly in all the ways that count, sometimes he seems almost childlike in the way he’s so uncorrupted by the world. Unlike most people, he’s not driven by the usual things—vanity, pride, and ego hold no importance for him. He’s straightforward, always impeccable with his word. And his belief in me is so absolute, sometimes I find myself cowering under the weight of it, wondering if I even deserve it.