Alyson Noel - Horizon

I guess because it’s so opposite of the way it was with Cade, where everything was a manipulation, a game. And while I don’t miss those days in the least, while I mostly wish I could banish them from my storehouse of memories, the truth is, I’m not always sure how to take Axel’s brand of earnest, wide-open love.

While it’s clear he’s nothing like Cade, I’m not always sure just what he is. No longer a Mystic—having broken one of his most sacred vows when he decided to spare Daire’s life last Christmas Eve—he’s since been denied admittance to the Upperworld—the place he called home.

Though he’s not entirely human either.

Which means our ways are still new to him.

And once, when he accidentally nicked his finger while trying to cut a tomato, I watched him bleed gold.

“How about Radiant Being?” He grins, proving, once again, his uncanny (and highly annoying) ability to read my mind. Catching my frown, he pulls back and says, “Sorry, was I eavesdropping?”

“Clearly.” I return to the oven, if only to confirm I’ve committed yet another case of muffin-murder. Stale bagels it is. I flip off the heat, set the pan on the stovetop to cool, and head for the fridge in search of cream cheese and jam.

“Lita, have I upset you?” He stands beside me, a scolded-puppy expression marring his beautiful face. Having failed at something he doesn’t quite understand—his intent is always to please. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m trying to learn your ways, truly I am. Being in love is all new to me. I thought the whole point was to share everything?”

He cocks his head, sending a tumble of white-blond curls to fall enticingly into those alluring lavender eyes.

“I’m new at love too.” I frown at the empty jam jar, place the container in the sink, and chuck the tub of cream cheese onto the counter. “And while people may claim that they want to share everything, they don’t really mean it.” I fold my arms across my chest and face him. “Thoughts are meant to be private, okay? It’s not okay to listen in.”

He nods intently, as though committing my words to memory, and I can’t help but grin in response. I don’t remember anyone ever taking me quite so seriously.

“It may please you to know that the ability is fading where all others are concerned. Though for some reason with you, it remains strong as ever.”

“Lucky me.”

He moves toward me, unfolds my hands, and rests them on the top of his shoulders. “I take it as proof of the deep connection we share. Proof that coming here was the right thing to do.”

The words hit me hard, and I take a moment to absorb them while I study his expression. The last six months we’ve been together have been such a whirlwind, such an exhilarating head rush, I guess I never once stopped to consider all he gave up to enter my world.

“Axel—do you ever . . . regret that you’re here?”

When his reply doesn’t come quickly, my shoulders sink in relief. Glad to see him taking time to consider, knowing that when he does answer, he’ll do so truthfully. Being impeccable with his word means he’s not always quick to reassure.

“Sometimes I get homesick.” His face assumes a thoughtful expression. “But then, I look at you, and suddenly I get to experience all of the wonderful emotions that were denied me before. Before you, everything I knew about falling in love was confined to theory. And while I’ll eventually grow used to living without magick and tunics, now that I’ve found you, I could never consider a life without you.”

I choke back a sob, start to look away. But then he catches me by the chin, tilts my face toward his, and says, “I’m willing to skip breakfast, if you are?”

All I can do is nod in return.

And the next thing I know, he lifts me into his arms as though I weigh nothing at all, and carries me down the hall toward his room.

DACE

Since I have sometime before I need to show up for work at the gas station, I drive into town and park the old, white heap just outside of Gifford’s, aiming to enjoy a cup of that freshly brewed coffee advertised in the window, and maybe read a bit from the stack of books I’ve been lugging around.

I wave to old man Gifford and head for a table in back. Only to hear my name being called from the far side of the room, as Leftfoot and Chay gesture impatiently toward the steaming cup of coffee they have waiting for me.

How they knew I’d show up when I only decided myself just a few moments ago is beyond me. Then again, the elders are pretty much tuned in to everything. They probably willed me here without my even realizing.

I grab the chair next to Chay and drop my books before me. Lifting my cup to my lips, I watch as Leftfoot swipes a title from the top of the stack, glances at the front and back covers, heaves a disapproving grunt, and drops it right back.

“Where’d you get those?” Chay glances between the spines and me. “Lucio’s back room?”

“Santa Fe.”

He narrows his gaze, takes a sip of his coffee. “When’d you start smuggling contraband? Those sort of books have been banned from Enchantment for years.” He speaks the words lightly, but his face remains as stoic as ever.

“What can you learn about the mystical arts from a book that you can’t learn from us?” Leftfoot chimes in, sounding miffed and offended.

I shrug, lower my cup, and decide to answer honestly. “So far, nothing.”

Leftfoot grunts in reply, but this time it’s of the satisfied variety.

After covering all of the usual small talk—the stifling summer heat; hottest year on record; Chepi’s general health and well-being and her continued suspicion of Daire, which seems to be softening since Paloma’s passing—we move onto the whole point of their luring me here. And of course, it has to do with the Richters. Three in particular: Gabe, Leandro, and Cade. Otherwise known as my cousin, my father, and my twin. Though I prefer not to think of them that way.

Gabe is a creep.

Leandro is a dark sorcerer and rapist, who used my mother to wield his black magick to conjure a son even darker than he.

And as for Cade, well, next time I see him, I plan to kill him.

I guess you could say there’s no real sentiment where the Richter side of my family is concerned.

And while it’s clear that no one has seen any of them, like Daire, they’re not convinced that’s necessarily a good thing.

“Work continues at the Rabbit Hole. Which means someone must be in charge of rebuilding, and if not Leandro, then who?” Chay looks from Leftfoot to me.

“It’s a big family.” I dip my head for another sip of coffee. “There’s no shortage of cousins. Any one of them could’ve taken the helm.”

“You really believe that?” Leftfoot’s narrowed eyes meet mine, practically daring me to disappoint him and insist that I do.

I shake my head. Should’ve known better than to be so glib. As a longtime student of Leftfoot’s I know better than most that he requires absolute seriousness in matters like this. “No,” I say. “I don’t believe it for a second. Guess I’m just trying to enjoy the break while it lasts.”

“Really?” Leftfoot leans toward me, as Chay busies himself with his soft-boiled egg and fruit plate.

Gone are the days of the covert cheese Danish. Now that Paloma’s no longer around to lecture him about the evils of sugar, seems he’s finally decided to heed her word. Just one more way he chooses to honor her memory. The other is the woven leather bracelet he wears at his wrist bearing a carved silver Wolf’s head.

Paloma was guided by Wolf. And I can’t imagine how he gets through each day without her. If I was in his place . . .