shut the book and lifted his head to blink at me. He glanced at my finished plate. “The hike up the mountain is long. You should get some sleep. I’ve asked for a wake-up call.”
He was the worst road trip companion. Ever.
I ground my teeth. “Are you going to try to ditch me again while I sleep?”
“I would,” he answered bluntly. “If I didn’t think you would get into more trouble on your own.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad you hold me in such high opinion.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and threw it down at the table before stomping to the bed. “The sofa’s all yours.”
Matt groaned. “I’m a full head taller than you.”
“Don’t forget to light the repellent,” I said sweetly, pointing to a small plastic burner on the table with a citronella gel pack on top. “The bugs can get nasty.”
“They’re not the only ones,” he muttered.
I climbed onto the large bed, pulling the mosquito net shut. I took off the scratchy pajama top to sleep in the tank. Lying down, I let out a yawn. A hard object jabbed my side. I reached into the pocket of my pajamas and pulled out the Dragon’s Eye still wrapped in its handkerchief.
Matt yanked the mosquito net open, his expression seething. He tried to grab the necklace, but I managed to hold onto it.
“You are not talking to him,” he said with wild eyes. “There is too much at stake.”
He was deranged, I decided. “I was putting the necklace aside so I could sleep.”
He paused, our hands remaining locked in battle. Still, suspicious eyes traveled over me as if he could find some lie in my statement. Then, his brown irises roved on my tank.
My breath hitched.
A flush climbed up to his hairline. “I’ll let you get to sleep.”
He yanked the white net shut. I fell back against the pillow.
The net yanked open again. Brown, shaggy hair fell over his forehead. “Tell me one thing. Why did you do it?”
I inclined my head on the soft pillow and asked, “Do what?”
“Why did you sacrifice me to Vane so easily?”
Every strand of hair on my arms rose at the intensity in his eyes. He gripped the mosquito net so tightly I thought he might rip it. I sank deeper into the bed’s pristine white sheets. “What do you want me to say that I haven’t already, Matt?”
“Say you regret it. Say you’re sorry. Say you feel something. Anything.”
I took in a breath.
“Tell me you haven’t fallen in love with him.”
The breath whooshed out of me. So that was it.
I sat up. I swung my legs off the warm bed and onto cold hardwood floors. I stood up. Desire exuded from his body, but I couldn’t touch him. Hollowness made my bones brittle. We remained a few inches apart, not touching. I said, “Would it make it easier if I was?”
“I don’t know,” he replied hoarsely.
The atmosphere around us seemed to electrify. Two hands slid along either side of my face, cupping it. His fingers tangled in my hair as he crossed them at the base of my nape. Exerting pressure, he turned my face up. In the dim light of the room, shadows danced across his face, obscuring his expression. Hot breath kissed my skin.
He leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “Do you know the one good thing about not having any visions?”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” I replied.
I hadn’t thought about it, but I knew. My daughter of Apollo status stopped his visions. It kept us apart for so long, but now the visions were gone. I flexed my fingers. In this moment, everything could change… if he wanted… if I wanted.
His expression set in brooding lines; his lips grazed mine.
I put a hand against his flat chest. Palm down, my fingers splayed against the surprisingly cool fabric of a soft, cotton t-shirt. Lean, warm muscles contracted underneath. Hot and cold, like him. Part of me wanted to curl my fingers into the invitation his body offered. Part of me held onto sanity. “Matt, we’re here to get your powers back.”
For the first time since the funeral, his expression held a hint of uncertainty. “Yes?”
I took a slow breath. It was a question. As in “yes, should I care?”
My nails dug into his T-shirt. I stood on the precipice. Our lips less than an inch away, all I had to do was lean forward one tiny fraction of space. The ends of the white mosquito net rustled