Deity

“Not right now.” Words would ruin things. They brought logic and reality into the game. I lowered my mouth to his.

A hallway light turned on outside the room.

I sprang away from Aiden as if he’d caught fire. From several feet away, I struggled to catch my breath as my eyes locked with Aiden’s. He came out of the chair, his chest rising and falling sharply. There was a second when I thought he was going to say the hell with it and pull me back into his arms, but the sound of encroaching footsteps knocked some sense into him. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and exhaled loudly.

Without saying a word, I spun around and left the room. I passed a sleepy, confused-looking Deacon in the hallway.

“I’m thirsty,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

Muttering something that resembled good night, I fled upstairs. Once inside the bedroom, I collapsed on the bed and stared at the vaulted ceiling.

Things just weren’t meant to happen between us. How many times had we been interrupted? It didn’t seem to matter how strong our co

Fully clothed, I rolled onto my side and curled up into a ball. I wanted to spin-kick everyone who thought me staying with Aiden was a good idea. We—I—had enough problems right now without throwing myself at Aiden.

Not that I’d really thrown myself at him this time… or the last time. Oh hell…

I reached under my shirt and felt the scar below my ribcage. The act served as a painful reminder that my love problems—or lack thereof—were not my greatest.

CHAPTER 21

THE FIRST THING I DID WHEN I WOKE UP WAS TAKE A nice, luxurious bath in the garden tub. I stayed in that thing until my skin started to wrinkle and even then it was hard to pull myself out of it.

It was heaven in a bathroom.

After that, I went downstairs and found Deacon sprawled across a couch in the rec room. Knocking his legs aside, I sat down. He was watching Supernaturalreruns. “Good choice,” I commented. “They’re two brothers I’d like to meet in real life.”

“True.” Deacon knocked wild curls out of his eyes. “It’s what I watch when I’m not in class or pretending to be in class.”

I gri

He kicked up his legs and dropped them in my lap. “I know. I’ve cut back on the skipping class thing.”

He’d also cut back on the drinking thing. I glanced at him. Maybe Luke was a good influence on him. “You doing anything special for Valentine’s Day?” I asked.

His lips pursed. “Now why would you ask that, Alex? We don’t celebrate V-Day.”

“But you do. You wouldn’t have that… tree if you didn’t.”

“Are you?” he inquired, his gray eyes dancing. “I’d swear I saw Aiden at the jewelry—”

“Shut up!” I hit him across the stomach with the throw pillow. “Stop saying things like that. Nothing is going on.”

Deacon gri

“Oh.”

Part of me was glad that Aiden was doing his babysitting outside. My cheeks caught fire just thinking about us in the chair last night.

“So you two were up pretty late,” Deacon said.

I kept my expression blank. “He was showing me the house.”

“Was that all he was showing you?”

Shocked, I laughed as I twisted toward him. “Yes! Deacon, geez.”

“What?” He sat up and swung his legs off my lap. “It was just an i

“Whatever.” I watched him stand up. “Where are you going?”

“Over to the dorms. Luke’s still there. You’re more than welcome to come, but I doubt Aiden will let you out of this house.”

Pures and halfs could be casual friends, especially while they were in school together, and a lot of them were, although not so much since the daimon attacks at the begi

“What are you two doing?” I asked.

Deacon winked as he backed out of the room. “Oh, I’m sure the same thing you and my brother were doing last night. You know, he’s going to show me around the dorm.”

Several hours later, Deacon returned and Aiden finally reappeared inside. Avoiding my gaze, he went straight upstairs. Deacon shrugged and coaxed me into making cookies with him.

When Aiden finally came downstairs he lingered in the kitchen while Deacon and I made cookies. I sort of gaped at him—dressed down in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt—so long that Deacon elbowed me in the side. Once Aiden loosened up, he joked around with his brother. Every so often our eyes would meet, and electricity danced over my skin.

After eating our weight in raw cookie dough, we all ended up in the living room, sinking into couches bigger than most people’s beds. Deacon controlled the TV for four straight hours before ambling off to bed and Aiden went outside to check in with the Guards—why, I had no idea. I roamed around the house. What had Aiden wanted to talk about before I told him to stop talking? Had he been ready to talk, like he’d hinted when I was still in the med clinic? Restless, I found myself in the MHT tree room.

I poked the bulb, smiling as it swayed back and forth. Deacon was so bizarre. Who had a Mortal Holiday Tree? So weird.

It was late, and I should’ve been in bed, but the idea of sleeping was unappealing. Full of restless energy, I drifted around the room until I came to a stop in front of the door. Curious, and with nothing else better to do, I tried the handle and found it unlocked. Glancing over my shoulder, I pushed open the door and crept inside the softly lit room. At once I realized why Aiden had kept this room off his tour.

Everything personal was crammed into the circular room. Pictures of Aiden lined the walls, chronicling his childhood. There were photos of Deacon as a precocious-looking little boy, head full of blond curls and chubby cheeks that hinted at delicate features.

I stopped in front of one of Aiden and felt my chest tighten. He must’ve been six or seven. Dark curls fell across his face instead of the looser waves he had now. He was adorable, all gray eyes and lips. There was a photo of him with Deacon. Aiden was probably around ten or so and he had one lanky arm draped over his younger brother’s shoulders. The camera had captured both boys laughing.

Moving around an overstuffed couch, I slowly picked up the titanium picture frame that was on the fireplace mantel. My breath caught.

It was his father—his mother and father.

They stood behind Deacon and Aiden, their hands on the boys’ shoulders. Behind them the sky was a brilliant blue. It was easy to tell which boy favored which parent. Their mother had hair the color of corn silk that fell past her shoulders in springy curls. She was beautiful, as all pures were, with delicate features and laughing blue eyes. It was shocking, though, how much Aiden looked like his father. From the almost-black hair and piercing silver eyes, he was an exact replica.

It didn’t seem fair that his parents were taken so young, robbed of watching their boys grow up. And Aiden and Deacon had lost so much.

I ran my thumb over the edge of the frame. Why had Aiden closed off all these memories? Did he ever come in here? Looking around the room, I spied a guitar propped beside a stack of books and comics. This was his room, I realized. A place where he thought it was okay to remember his parents and maybe to just get away.