Stacey Kade - Queen of the Dead

She nodded and released me, backing up a step and wiping her face. “I’ve got them calling me Ally. It sounds closeenough to L. E., and apparently Elizabeth is Lily’s middle name, so that works out okay. And right now, they’re happy enough to call me anything I want.” She smiled sadly.

I touched her cheek, my fingers drawn irresistibly to her scar, a symbol of the event that had seemingly kicked all of this into motion, long before we ever knew it was anything more than a single tragic moment in time, unrelated and unconnected to anything before or after it.

She turned away from me slightly, letting her hair slide forward to hide her face. But some impulse led my hand forward to tuck her hair behind her ear again and then to duck in further and press a kiss against her scarred cheek. The skin was slightly raised there but otherwise warm and smooth and tasting of salt from her tears.

Her eyes were wide and brown, but the surprise in them was all Alona. Of course, if she hated imperfections in others, she’d never tolerate them in herself, even a temporary loaner version. “Thank you for saving her,” I said. “And forsaving you.”

She looked away. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” I said firmly. “It’s going to be okay.”

She looked to me, seeking certainty in my expression, I think. But then her gaze dropped to my mouth, and in that second, I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her. But I resisted. It wasn’t right. Not yet.

“Ally, honey, are you up? I thought you were resting,” Mrs. Turner’s voice drifted toward me.

“It’s not going to be okay if she catches you down here,” she hissed, looking back over her shoulder at the door. “You better go.”

“Since when do you care about what a parent thinks?” I asked.

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Since they started caring about me, I guess.”

Interesting. One more unexpected change in her. “I’m coming back tomorrow,” I warned. “And every day after that, until they let me see you.”

She smiled then, a wicked sparkle in her eyes, shades of her former self. “Nice. I like a little desperation in a guy. It builds character.”

Good thing. Because I had the feeling by the time this was all over and done with, I’d probably have character — desperation — to spare.

But I wasn’t going to worry about that now. I helped her lower the screen and the window, our fingers brushing once more with that same heat as before, and then I left before Mrs. Turner could catch me. I needed to make a good impression tomorrow, the next day, and for however long after that it took to get and keep Alona…Ally in my life. It just wasn’t the same without her.

Thanks to: my editor, Christian Trimmer, for seeing this book in the chaos that was the previous draft and helping me find it. You are awesome, and I’m so very grateful to be working with you. Everyone at Hyperion for all the hard work you do. My agent, Laura Bradford, for always being so calm and confident. Linnea Sinclair for critiquing this book on a crazy schedule and continually providing much-needed sanity and wisdom. My first readers — Ed and Debbie Brown, Becky Douthitt, and my fabulous sister, Susan Barnes. Ryan Turner for helping me figure out Will’s college fate. Age and Dana Tabion for listening, encouraging, and providing the world’s best mashed potatoes. My in-laws, Sue and Dale, for their unwavering support. My husband, Greg, for loving me even on the days when the writing is not going well and I’m impossible to live with.

And finally, thank you to everyone who e-mailed, Face-booked (yes, that’s a word!), or tweeted to say how much you love Will and Alona. I so appreciate that. You guys rock!