Fated (34 page)

I swallow hard, noticing how gracefully he avoided my question, but I decide to let it pass, there’s no reason to push it.

“So, you coming in?” He motions toward the bubbling space just beside him, as I look to Raven for guidance. Only to watch him flit from the tree to the back of a beautiful, black horse I hadn’t noticed ’til now. He’s brought me where he wants me—it’s up to me to see it through.

“I’m not really dressed for it.” I sweep a hand over my jeans, point toward my boots. Not exactly the clothes I wore in the dream, and I’m hoping that’s a good omen.

Dace lifts his shoulders, causing tiny droplets of water to sluice down his sides. “You’re gonna let that stop you?” He looks at me, slicks a hand through his hair, as I gnaw the inside of my cheek, unsure what to do. His voice warm and coaxing when he says, “C’mon, water’s great. Besides, I promise not to peek.”

He makes a show of turning away and placing his hands over his face, as I stand before him—weighing my options.

Should I do what Raven wants and join Dace in the hot spring, which could turn out as badly as the dream?

Or should I ignore them both and be on my way—even though I’m not really sure where that is?

Remembering what Paloma told me about Raven having more wisdom than me, that it may not always make sense but I have to learn to trust him—I slip off my jacket and shoes, shimmy out of my jeans, then yank my tank top well past my thighs and wade in. Unaware I’d been holding my breath until I reach the far side where Dace waits—taking my place beside him like I did in the dream.

He lowers his hands, revealing a face so kind and disarming, I’m tempted to believe this couldn’t end badly. But knowing better than to believe what I see, I take a moment to grab a large, sharp rock from behind me. Folding my fingers tightly around it as I settle it onto my lap. If his brother shows, he won’t stand a chance. I’m more than ready to bash in his ugly demon head at first glance.

“The first time my mom brought me here, she said a lack of money was no excuse not to travel to enchanted places.” His gaze wanders to a long-ago past. “But she didn’t take me very often, she liked to save it for special occasions. Didn’t want me to grow bored of it—though I can’t imagine such a thing.”

“Do you come here a lot now?” I ask, observing the exact moment he returns to the present.

“Whenever I can.” His voice going soft and wistful when he adds, “But between work and school, it’s hard to find time.”

“And yet you found time today.” I glance all around as I pat the rock in my lap, reassured by its sharp edges and heft.

He settles against the stone ledge at his back and spreads his arms wide. Fingers drumming just shy of my shoulder, he says, “I had an irresistible pull to come here, so I followed my instincts, and now I know why.”

He grins in a way so hopeful, I can’t help but meet his smile with one of my own. Though the look is deceptive, just underneath my heart beats in a frenzy, worried that
pull
he felt was less about running into me and more about reliving the dream.

He holds the look for a moment, then takes a deep breath and disappears under a blanket of bubbles, only to emerge a few seconds later so glistening and gorgeous, it takes my breath away. The two of us sitting in silence—he with his eyes closed, his face soft and dreamy—as I sit right beside him, tense and alert, fingers clenching a rock I have every intention of using if his brother shows up.

The quiet broken when he pops one eye open and says, “So tell me, how’d you find it?” Then opening the other, he adds, “How’d you get to the Enchanted Spring?”

I rub my lips together, unsure how to answer.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever run into.” His face is thoughtful, gaze appraising.

“So that means you’ve never come here with Cade? Never even told him about it?” The words rush from my lips before I can stop them.

Dace frowns, face dropping as though my words have left a bad taste. “Why would I do that?” he says. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly close.”

I turn the rock in my hands, sidestepping his original question when I say, “Is that your horse?” I gesture toward the beautiful black stallion grazing nearby.

Dace nods. “Is that your raven?”

I clamp my lips shut. Try to focus on the bubbles, the warmth of the water, the flowering vines that drift down from the trees and sprawl among the rocks, but it’s impossible. I’m too wound up. Prepared for an epic battle or an epic embarrassment—it could go either way.

“So, you’re not going to claim that raven, and you’re not going to tell me how you found the Enchanted Spring?” He tilts his head, studies me closely, but I just look away, refusing his gaze. His eyes are a vortex leading to a place of no escape. And yet I don’t have to look at him to be irresistibly drawn to him. His presence alone is enough.

He pushes forward, moving away from the rock until he’s looming before me. His hair shiny and slick, revealing a collection of features so lovely and sharp, they appear to be sculpted by a talented hand. Eyes gleaming darker than normal, less like aquamarine and more like the deep shade of turquoise found in his mother’s jewelry, he says, “However you managed, I’m glad you found it. From the first day you ran into me at the club, I knew you weren’t like the other girls around here. I knew in that instant you were different.”

“How can you be so sure?” I ask, my voice hoarse, thick, affected by his nearness—the way he hovers so close he’s just a razor’s width away. Remembering what I saw when I spied on him via the raven, the way he used telekinesis to deposit the trash bags into the Dumpster—knowing I’m not the only one who’s different around here.

He throws his head back and laughs, the sight so beautiful I wish it could last. Leveling his gaze on me when he says, “I guess we’re right back to instincts again—so far, they’ve yet to steer me wrong.”

“And what are your instincts telling you now?” I whisper, knowing I can no longer trust mine. He’s thrown me so off kilter, I don’t know what to expect, what to do next, other than tighten my grip on the rock in my lap, and wait for his twin to show up.

He swallows hard. Takes a deep breath as though he’s about to dip under the water again, but instead he says, “They’re telling me to kiss you.”

He leans forward, gaze steeped with intent. And when his hands find my cheeks—when his thumbs smooth my skin—when his gaze wanders over me, devouring all that he sees—well, I can’t help but notice that it’s happening now just like it did in the dream.

I squeeze the rock hard, shift it high on my lap—determined to go with it, see this thing through. Raven brought me here for a reason, and clearly that reason is now.

His face looming before me, lips swelling toward mine, I close my eyes and meet them—telling myself it’s just part of the progression, it’s how the dream goes. The kiss so sweet, warm, and familiar—yet far more soulful than I remembered it being.

“Daire…” he whispers, his voice husky and deep, as his hands explore the length of me. Slipping under my tank top, discovering every hollow and curve. And I’m so lost in the kiss, the heady nearness of him, I hardly notice when he entwines my fingers with his, causing me to lose my grip, as the rock falls from my lap and rushes down past my feet.

I slide my palms over his taut, smooth chest, and anchor my arms around his neck. Hooking my legs around his, I pull him closer, yearning to taste even deeper—when he curls a finger under my strap, pushes it down past my shoulder, clearing a path for his lips as he bends his head toward my breasts—and it’s then I remember—this is how it went down.

This is the moment he’ll be replaced by his demon twin with a snake shooting out of his mouth.

And now that he’s rid me of the rock—I’m left with no way to defend us.

I pull away—the move so abrupt, so unexpected—the strap on my buckskin pouch snaps and sends it flying into the water.

My eyes blaze on his, gasping in panic, when he goes under to retrieve the pouch well before I can move.

I take a quick breath and submerge myself too. Grappling for the pouch, seeing it just below us, resting on a rock, I push him aside, try to fetch it for myself, but he’s quicker, his arms longer, and he’s claimed it well before I can get there.

Heading for the surface, I break free of the water, only to find his face shining with triumph, as he takes a moment to tie the ends back together. Paloma’s voice filling my head, warning me to never allow anyone else to wear it, look inside it, not even briefly, or its power will be lost. And though he’s made no move toward either of those things, I can’t take the chance that his curiosity might get the better of him.

“I’ll take that,” I say, snatching the pouch from his hands, and securing it back around my neck, where it clings to my chest.

His brow slants, his mouth goes grim, hands fumbling helplessly in his lap, as he says, “I’d never look inside, if that’s what you’re worried about. Believe me, I know better.”

I clutch the pouch to my chest, fingers seeking the shape of Raven, the feather, relieved to find all is okay, but even more relieved when it suddenly dawns on me:

This is not how the dream goes
.

The realization coming too late, and the next thing I know, Dace is out of the water, reaching for the towel he left folded on a rock. Running it over his hair, his body, before draping it over his shoulders and saying, “Listen, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t going to keep it, and I’d never look inside. I just hope I didn’t scare you from this place. You’re free to visit for as long as you like, whenever you like. If it makes you feel better, I’ll steer clear of it.”

He turns his back, starts to head for Horse. The sight of it prompting me to rush from the water, my breath coming shallow and quick, tank top molding and clinging in the most embarrassing way, as I stop just behind him and say, “So, you’re giving me custody of the Enchanted Spring?”

He turns, his expression shifting from troubled to confused.

“Or are you just granting me visitation rights? You know, like an every other weekend kind of thing?”

I stand before him—a wet, soggy mess with a wide, hopeful grin, which, thankfully, he’s quick to return. His gaze moving over me, so heated and intense, I can’t help but squirm under the weight of it. Then remembering the towel draped over his neck, he flushes in embarrassment, and hands it to me.

We dress quickly, and with my tank top so wet, I decide to abandon it, and just wear the jacket buttoned up the front instead.

“I should go.” I shoot Raven a pointed look, but he just remains rooted in place, refusing to move from Horse, no matter how hard I glare.

“Spirit animals have their own agenda,” Dace says, glancing between Raven and me. Replying to the shock on my face when he adds, “I grew up on the reservation, and, as it happens, I descend from a long line of healers and medicine men. You tend to pick up on these things. Horse has been with me since birth, got me through some rough times.”

I study him carefully, sensing there’s more.

“Other than the occasional trip to this place, my mom did her best to shelter me from the more mystical side of life, despite the long line of Light Workers in our family. But I was always drawn to it. I was never a normal kid. I preferred spending time with the elders to kids my own age, and because of it, the other kids shunned me, made fun of me. My mom’s attempts to get me to fit in made for some rough, awkward times. But the times I spent with the elders, hearing their stories and learning their magick … that’s when I was happiest. They’re the ones who introduced me to Horse. They also convinced me I had a natural gift that shouldn’t be wasted. That it was my legacy, and that there’s no shame in nurturing it. That’s another reason I left the reservation. I wanted a shot at growing my gifts, without my mom’s constant interference. I know it sounds crazy—but this world is full of untapped possibilities—the potential is limitless. You wouldn’t believe some of the magick I’ve seen.” He shakes his head, his focus returning to me. Cheeks heating with embarrassment when he says, “And now you probably think I’m a lunatic.” His body tenses, bracing for the emotional blow I have no intention of giving.

I shake my head and move toward him, cupping his face with my hand, as I whisper, “Not even close.” My lips meeting his—softly, warmly—pulling away only when Raven emits a low croaking sound, telling me it’s time to move on.

“Do you ride?” Dace grabs my hand, leads me toward Horse.

“Chay gave me a horse to look after, but I’m not very good, I’m still learning. Though Kachina, the horse, is really patient.”

“We should ride sometime.” He smiles, then, coaxing Raven onto his finger, he says, “In fact, why don’t you hop on now—there’s something I think you should see.”

I glance at Raven, noting how quickly he hops from Dace’s finger to a space high on Horse’s neck, his glimmering eyes urging me to take Dace’s hand and get settled behind him, as we head back through the forest, back through the clearing, and into a heavily wooded area, where Horse stops beside a thick clump of shrubs and Dace says, “This is it.”

He eases me to my feet, entwines my fingers with his, and leads me to an area sheltered by trees and low-growing bushes. Pushing the brush aside, he stands behind me as I stoop down to see better. My eyes growing wide, throat closing tight—dropping Dace’s hand as quickly as I took it, when I gaze upon a dying white wolf with blue eyes.

forty-four

I drop to my knees, place my hands on the wolf’s head with no hesitation, no fear of any kind. From what I’ve seen, the animals of the Lowerworld have no need to fear us, which means they’re not at all vicious. Besides, this is Paloma’s Wolf—her spirit animal—I know it in my heart—and he’s far too ill to pose any threat.

“What happened?” I glance over my shoulder, Dace’s expression transforming from confusion to hurt when he misreads the whole thing and assumes that I blame him.

“I found him this way,” he says, quick to explain. “I’ve tried everything to nurse him back to health, but it’s no use. He’s dying—which means his human attachment is dying as well.”