Page 133 of First Ritual

“It’s real,” Wild replied.

I rubbed my temples. “It’s not, Wild. You know it’s not. The things we’re doing aren’t us.”

“Then tell me why you’re under my skin,” he demanded, rearing to his feet. “Tell me why I can’t stop thinking about you. Every moment. Tell me why, when I touch you, I feel like anything is possible. Why do our minds and bodies mold to one another’s?”

“Magic,” I cried out. “Have you lost your damn mind? Magic!”

We’d always been on the same page about this. We’d only recently acknowledged friendship, and that wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t been forced into each other’s company so much. I gaped at Wild. What was he saying? I… Hadn’t we been talking about demons and darkness? “It has always seemed obvious to me that everything we feel is because of the mating ritual.”

“I’m aware,” he said sourly. “That much was clear when you tried to erect a barrier so I couldn’t find you.”

My eyes narrowed at the tried to part of his sentence. “What do you mean tried to?”

Wild turned away, and I grabbed his hand to rip him around. “You told me the barrier worked.”

“I lied,” he said coolly.

Shock hit me. I lied. Two words said so casually. So… carelessly. This whole time we’d done our best to be respectful of the other, Wild in particular with his unintentional visits to my bedroom and the whole growling, dominating persona.

“Good to know.” Ice blanketed the words.

A fissure appeared in his armor as if he felt the change. I was surprised he couldn’t see the emotional barriers I’d just put between us. Hundreds of them, one barrier after another.

“Tempest, let me—”

“Wild,” I told him. “The thing is that I’m so deathly sick of this subject. I’m sick of this whole thing. Just leave me alone. Please.”

“We don’t have a choice,” he said. “You’re not the only one who’d prefer this over.”

“Bit of a one-eighty from the feelings you spouted a minute prior.” I walked between the others, who stepped back from the demon.

His nostrils flared. “Don’t assume—"

“And we do have a choice, you’re wrong.” I cut him off. “I choose to love who and what is good for me.” I wrenched the door open.

“Even if the bad feels fucking perfect?” he called.

I paused in the entrance. He’d summed up this dangerous, painful thing between us in one sentence. The bad did feel fucking perfect. “Even then.”

32

I felt worse after a full night’s sleep. I’d passed out after eating two plates of food and woken ten hours later. I wanted to forget a lot of what Wild had said, but the part about not taking care of myself was one I could agree on.

I went through a morning routine that had been lost since my journey. Bathe. Cut off my rust streak. Slather kawakawa balm on my throbbing fingers from quipu work. A magic-infused arnica and peppermint blend on my legs to loosen and heal the aching muscles. Two hours training last night was brutal. At least Sven didn’t show up after their little demon intervention. The others ran me through the motions.

I blinked at my pale, thin reflection.

Caves was today.

A stir of anticipation made its way through the numbness. The promise of battle calmed the comments from last night that circled over and over again. You believe you’re a demon.

You can’t be a demon.

Tell me why, when I touch you, I feel anything is possible?

I lied.

You’re not the only one who’d prefer this over.