Rowan’s hands shook when he started the spiral out from her navel. His brush traveled up, across her fluttering ribs, wrapping around her breasts. Lily could feel the tight coil of the spiral sinking into her, the heat settling low in her belly like a knot of want. The teasing touch of the brush became unbearable. She reached up and brought Rowan’s lovely mouth down to her. His lips were so cool against her fire-bright skin that she sighed, drawing from them deeply as if she could drink him. Tristan’s hands lifted her, wrapping her, brushing against her body while she kissed Rowan. Both of their eyes slid closed, and their willstones glittered on their chests.
Rowan broke away and paused, swallowing hard. Lily’s hands were in his hair. He untangled them gently and moved determinedly to Lily’s throat. Concentrating, he painted a small design around her willstones. The spell sank into her lungs, filling them with fluid and cutting off her breath. Gauze followed before she had a chance to panic, soaking in the sweat and paint, and lifting the heavy spell off of her. Her skin cooled. Her lungs cleared. She took a deep breath.
“It is done,” Rowan said. His and Tristan’s willstones darkened. Rowan stood and got Lily’s robe, covering her immediately.
Lily sat up. The sun was down. The yards of gauze needed to dry before they could be cut into tiny tabs no larger than Lily’s pinkie nail. Just one tab under the tongue could clear all infection out of a sick or injured person’s body. Lily sighed, knowing that thousands could be healed by what they’d done in a few hours. The city sparkled in the darkness outside Rowan’s huge windows. Instead of feeling tired, she was energized, her body humming with the adrenaline of two kinds of hunger.
“Let’s go out,” she said. “I want to go out. Actually, I think I need to go out.”
Rowan and Tristan shared a look. “A crucible’s craving is her mechanic’s mandate,” Tristan said. “You’ve already ignored that once tonight.” There was a scolding note in Tristan’s tone, like Rowan had done something they both knew was wrong. Rowan dropped his head.
“I know I did. But I still think it’s too dangerous. Gideon has a man stationed right across the street, watching us,” Rowan said.
“It’s dark. I can use a camouflage spell, and he won’t even see me,” Lily said, standing.
“It doesn’t matter if you get past that one guard,” Rowan countered. “There are spies all over the city looking for the Outlander girl hanging out with me.”
“So I’ll bleach my hair blonde and go with Tristan,” Lily replied, as if offering the simplest solution in the world.
You’re not going to a bonfire without me!
Lily could sense that Rowan hadn’t meant to initiate mindspeak. The thought had flown out of him in desperation, breaking three weeks of silence, but he closed himself off before she could sense anything more.
“So. Who wants to help me dye my hair?” Lily said through a grin. “I’ve always wanted to go platinum.”
* * *
Tristan and Rowan were chemical geniuses. That, coupled with the fact that they also knew how to do magic, meant that two hours later Lily had white-blonde, pin-straight hair.
“I never thought anything could take the curl out,” Lily said, fluffing her short, silky locks. “If you guys ever came to my world, you could make a fortune as hairdressers, you know.”
“Here. Put this on,” Rowan said, ignoring her frivolous comment and holding out a dress.
Lily pouted. “I like my wearhyde. It makes me look tough.”
“Rebels and Outlanders wear wearhyde,” he said, handing her the frothy pile of chiffon and ribbons. “Witches wear dresses.”
There was no style in Lily’s world to describe the dress, except maybe half-naked wood nymph meets couture, and she struggled with the complicated design for a good twenty minutes before she admitted defeat and called Tristan to help lace her up. The dress ended up being much skimpier than she’d thought. There was a lot of skin involved.
“I hope I don’t catch a cold,” she said jokingly.
“That’s what the gloves are for,” Tristan joked back, handing her a pair of opera-length gloves.
The dress, while complicated, kept her cool, and Lily had to admit it made a lot of sense. Crucibles and witches ran hot, and the dress managed to be sexy and structured but still airier than wearhyde.
“What are the gloves really for?” Lily asked Tristan as they went to join Rowan in the great room. Lily remembered from the walk through town the first night back from the woods that most of the women wearing dresses also wore gloves. It seemed to be more than a style or a trend.
“They’re so you don’t accidentally touch someone else’s stone,” he said, sliding a smile in her direction. “Bonfires can get a little wild.”
Tristan’s smile warmed, and Lily’s eyes dropped to the willstone hanging at his throat. She was acutely aware of the fact that she hadn’t touched it yet. It wasn’t half as lovely to her as Rowan’s stone, but she still wanted it. Lily realized she was staring and tore her gaze away.
Lily had spent the last few weeks trying to piece together the politics of the claiming ceremony. Apparently, a mechanic could assist with lower-level magic without being claimed by a witch, but in order to assist with warrior magic—the third-level magic she and Rowan had wielded against the Woven—he had to allow himself to be claimed. Lily had learned that even though Tristan had assisted Rowan with Lillian, he’d never been claimed by her. Lily didn’t know why, but she did know it was up to Tristan to offer himself to the witch. Lily didn’t want him to feel pressured to move any faster than he was comfortable. Until then, Tristan would be more of an assistant to Rowan than Lily’s mechanic. He would assist in the preparation of the rituals and add his energy to Rowan’s when they made a brew or wove a spell, but he wasn’t pledged to Lily in the same way Rowan was. Tristan could still move on and offer himself to another witch for claiming if he chose.
Lily knew that if Tristan gave himself to her, it would be a lifelong commitment. And with that much responsibility hanging over her, Lily didn’t know if she really wanted to claim Tristan yet anyway. It was a big step, and Lily was wary of it. It certainly hadn’t worked out too well for her and Rowan. And now they were stuck with each other—unless he wanted to go through the agony of smashing his stone. Lily swallowed down the lump of hurt that formed in her throat at the thought. If things continued to carry on as they had been between them, Lily didn’t doubt that Rowan might consider smashing his stone an option.
When she and Tristan came back out into the main room, they saw Rowan sitting at the table, drinking a clear liquid from a short glass. He looked up at Lily and his mouth went rigid. “You’re going to need to take two of the stones off your necklace,” he reminded her, dropping his eyes.
“I think you should wear the rose stone,” Tristan advised. “The smoke one is too big to go unnoticed, and the little golden one might get you teased.”
Lily nodded and worked the clasps at her throat. She turned her back to the guys while she tucked the two stones into her bra, aware of the fact that they’d spent the day staring at her half-naked body and not caring that it made no sense to act modest now. Some standards had to be maintained or Lily might as well just walk around in her birthday suit all day long.
The guys put on their coats and turned. Their eyes darted all over, looking for her. She’d already cast the camouflage spell.
“Pretty good, right?” she asked. Tristan agreed enthusiastically, but Rowan only nodded and busied himself setting the wards on his apartment.
They had walked about seven blocks when Tristan finally spoke. “Ro. He’s not following us,” he said. “We can’t get into the bonfire with her camouflaged. Their wards will show someone is with us.”
“Alright,” Rowan said shortly, his eyes scanning for witnesses. “Drop the spell, Lily.”
Lily allowed herself to reappear, and slowed down to walk alongside Tristan.
“Don’t forget your face glamour,” he reminded
her quietly.
Lily gave herself a slightly more triangular face, something pixieish to go with her new hair. That small change, along with all the makeup she was wearing, meant even Rowan had to admit that no one would recognize her. Tristan took Lily’s hand and pulled her close.
“You look gorgeous,” he whispered.
Lily smiled at him, wishing she felt more. This was the perfect opportunity to start over with Tristan. It was a gift, handed to her in what was otherwise a terrible situation, but now that she had his attention, she didn’t want it. He’d broken the part of her heart that she’d given to him, and no matter how much Lily tried to convince herself that he was a different Tristan who deserved a fresh chance, she couldn’t get the pieces to fit back together again in the same way.
She looked ahead at Rowan, walking in front of them. His shoulders were stiff and his back straight—every inch of him as unyielding as she was. They were so alike. How could she expect him to see past his distrust of Lillian and trust her when she couldn’t do the same for this other version of Tristan?
Lily didn’t feel like going out anymore, but she knew she couldn’t change her mind now. They joined a group of people waiting outside a large warehouse-like building. Bass thumped through the walls. They didn’t wait long. A female bouncer spotted Rowan and waved them over before they’d even joined the line.
“Rowan Fall,” the woman purred. She held up her hand, making the air shimmer and bend as she dropped her ward to allow them to enter. “Do me a favor, precious. Try not to start too many catfights tonight.”
Rowan paused and leaned close to her, letting his lips barely brush her cheek. It was so blatantly flirty that Lily felt more puzzled than jealous. It wasn’t like him. The bouncer tried to wind her arms around his neck, but Rowan broke away with a cocky grin and led Tristan and Lily inside.
Bodies whirled around a huge, roaring fire that dominated the center of the room. Everywhere Lily looked, heads lolled and torsos writhed as people in varying states of undress spun in concentric circles around the bonfire. The music sounded almost tribal. It had a dark, driving rhythm juxtaposed against vaporous vocals that were mostly remixed whispers and sighs. In the background, Lily could hear chanting from people lurking in the dark. Many wore masks and little else. She looked up at the towering bonfire. There was no ceiling above it, just sparks floating up into the night sky.
Skirting around the edge of the circle of entranced revelers, they passed low tables surrounded by cushions and pillows. Lily peered through the veils draped over one such arrangement and saw a woman. She was sitting astride a young man, kissing him deeply. Her ungloved hand reached out to another man sitting next to them. She slid her hand up his bare chest and grasped his willstone. He threw back his head, his body shaking as he cried out.
“Oh my God,” Lily gasped, clutching at Tristan’s arm. “She’s hurting him.”
“Ah, a little,” Tristan began tentatively. “But trust me, he’s enjoying it. If she were really hurting him, you’d know.”
“Is she claiming him right now?”
Tristan laughed uncomfortably. “Probably not. Witches and crucibles don’t always claim a guy when they touch his stone. Remember—he has to allow her to claim him, and she has to want to take on all that responsibility. Claiming is a big deal. But touching stones can be just for fun between people who aren’t looking for anything more. Or it can be awful.” Tristan made an exasperated sound. “You have to understand some of this. You can’t be that innocent.”
Lily looked at the guy that the woman was straddling. He was definitely having fun. Then she looked at the guy who was separate from the couple. The woman barely touched his stone with her fingertips, and he was practically losing his mind.
“So, it’s like sex?” Lily hazarded.
Tristan stared at her disbelievingly, like she was missing an important point. “Rowan really hasn’t…?” Tristan broke off before he finished that sentence, and pulled Lily along. “C’mon. I think we’re getting a table.”
Rowan was at the bar, talking to the slender bartender who had big blue eyes and bright pink hair. They clasped hands warmly over the bar, apparently good friends, and the bartender pointed to a booth off to the side that had a reserved sign on the table.
“Caleb’s boyfriend, Elias,” Tristan said, waving to the bartender and going directly to the booth.
“Love the pink hair. Should we go say hi?” Lily asked, curious to meet giant Caleb’s itty-bitty boyfriend. She’d only heard mention of Caleb’s partner, Elias, in passing and, sensing that Caleb was an intensely private person, hadn’t wanted to pry. But she was curious—especially now that she saw how adorable Elias was.
“He’ll come over when he’s not too busy.”
“He’s really cute,” Lily said with a devilish grin.
“No idea what he sees in a meathead like Caleb,” Tristan said, grinning back.
Tristan and Lily sat down while Rowan accepted a bottle and three short glasses from Elias, then made his way to the booth. He hadn’t taken two steps when a scantily clad girl wrapped her arms around Rowan’s waist and pressed herself against him, nuzzling her face under his chin.
“And so it begins,” Tristan said, sighing.
Lily watched as Rowan smiled sweetly at the girl, tucked the bottle under his arm to free up a hand, and pried her off of him. Lily turned to Tristan, an eyebrow cocked. “Seriously?” she asked.
“It gets worse,” Tristan said, leaning back. “She was just a crucible. She’s got no shot. Wait till a witch finds out he’s here.”
Lily tamped down a surge of jealousy while she watched Rowan run a gauntlet of girls who all reached out to touch him, trying to catch his attention or just feel him up for all Lily could tell. “But why? He’s good-looking, but so are you.”
“Because he’s special. Gifted. He could take even an average witch and make her very powerful.” Tristan smiled at her. “And thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Lily said, and flashed a smile back at him.
Rowan finally made it to the booth and sat down. “Moonshine?” he asked, looking between Lily and Tristan. He didn’t wait for a response before starting to pour.
A bare leg and a whirl of gauzy material flashed over Rowan as a woman took a seat astride him. She was in her mid-twenties, beautiful, and she had long, light brown hair. Lily hated her instantly. Rowan didn’t seem too surprised to have a witch in his lap, and Lily supposed sitting on a guy was the way witches shook hands at a bonfire.
“Hello, dearest. Come to let me claim you?” the woman asked.
“Hello, Nina,” Rowan replied pleasantly.
Without any more chat, Nina leaned forward and kissed him. Lily felt Tristan take her hand under the table, stopping her, and realized that she’d leaned forward to stand up. She wanted to launch herself across the table at both of them, but then she noticed that Rowan wasn’t returning the kiss. He was simply tolerating the witch, like he didn’t have a choice. Nina tightened her thighs on his hips and ran her right hand up his chest, searching for his willstone. She wasn’t wearing a glove on that hand. Rowan grabbed her wrists hard, and she pulled away.
“Don’t touch,” he said. Rowan’s smile was polite, but his eyes had knives in them. He released her wrists and sat back, looking at her lazily.
“Romantic Rowan. You have to be more realistic,” she cooed condescendingly. “I know Lillian set you up handsomely, but eventually you’re going to need another witch to look after you. And you know I’m not only talking about money.” She smiled and ran her fingers over his face. Lily wanted to slap her, and not just because she was jealous. She wanted to slap her for treating Rowan like a piece of meat. “Everyone knows that after Lillian, I’m the strongest witch in all the thirteen Covens. And with you as my head mechanic, I could be just as strong as she ever was.”
Rowan jerked his head away, dodging her touch. “Nina? You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” she asked acidly. ??
?Come on, Rowan. You must miss it. You must be dying for it. Unless Gideon’s right and some new, unknown, and unbelievably powerful witch has claimed you?” She meant it as a joke, but when she saw Rowan’s willstone flash, her smile quickly faded. Her eyes darted down to Rowan’s stone, and her face hardened. “Who is she? What Coven is she from?”
Rowan stood up, taking Nina with him. He unwrapped her legs from around his waist and placed her back down on her feet—hard. “I belong to myself, Nina. And I intend to keep it that way.”
Rowan sat down and turned away from her, leaving Nina to fume at his back. Belatedly, she noticed Tristan and Lily, sitting on the other side of the booth. Tristan still had his arm around Lily’s shoulder, and she felt it tighten when Nina began to scrutinize her. Nina’s eyes dropped to Lily’s willstone. Confusion clouded her eyes.
“Rose?” she mumbled to herself. She looked at Tristan’s affectionate posture, down at his stone, and then dismissed all three of them with a flick of her long hair as she turned and stormed away.
Rowan’s chest swelled with incensed breaths. He finished pouring out three shots of moonshine and passed them around. He didn’t wait to toast before drinking his and pouring himself another. His cheeks were flushed with anger and embarrassment. Lily felt bad for him.
“‘I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!’” she said, and gave her best Wicked Witch of the West cackle. She got blank looks all around. “That means something where I’m from. Trust me—it’s really funny.”
Rowan smiled at her, his eyes softening at her attempt to cheer him up.
I’m sorry about that, Lily.
Lily didn’t have a reply for him. She couldn’t tell him in mindspeak that it didn’t bother her, because it did.