“Is that a problem?” he asks.
“Problem? No.” Well, besides the second heartbeat that’s started in my stomach. But the more I think about it, I guess I can’t expect him to just play with Lumpkins in his mansion all day until I get off school. I mean, he’s this amazingly powerful warlock, and he has a life too. It strikes me then that if he were with someone closer to his own age, like, say, Irena from the Black Market, this wouldn’t be a problem. They could just go together, travel the world. I still have another year and a half of high school.
“We’d still see each other,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “I do have this nifty teleportation trick up my sleeve.”
Well. That is a bit reassuring. I give him a ghost of a smile.
“Anyway, it was just something I was thinking about,” he says. “Let’s not talk about that now.”
He smiles at me—a winking smile that makes my insides melt and all thoughts of boarding school fly out of my head. He’s going to kiss me—he’s going to do a lot more than kiss me. But I’m not going to wait for him to make a move.
I set down my Pop-Tart.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
Brushing the crumbs from my skirt, I step over the picnic until I’m standing over him, and he has to crane his neck to look up at me. He starts to get up too, but I push his shoulders down and straddle his lap. His eyes go wide at the way my skirt rumples up my thighs.
“First,” I say, “I want you to know I’m not upset or vulnerable or anything else right now. Well, I am, but it’s not clouding my judgment. I know what I’m doing, okay? So don’t try to stop me. Unless, of course, you want me to stop, you know, for your own reasons, which would be totally okay—”
He takes my head in his hands and shuts me up with the barest of kisses. Soft and featherlight. A buzz of warmth travels down into my belly. I pull my fingers through the silk of his hair as he takes my mouth deeper and harder, his arms coming up around my body like he wants to devour me. When his fingers dig into my hips, my body turns to fire.
But then he stops suddenly and pulls back, looking intently into my eyes.
“Indie,” he says.
“What?” I ask, out of breath. What could he possibly have to say right now that would make him interrupt the best kiss of my life?
“I love you.”
My breath catches at the unexpected words, my heart fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage.
“I love you too,” I say.
And I know it’s true. Whatever happened with Cruz was messed up and wrong and inexcusable, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love Bishop. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to him.
“I love you,” I repeat.
Saying the words, I can’t help but think of our odds. Some new band of sorcerers could attack us again. Bishop could go to New York and love it so much he decides never to come back. He could meet someone else, someone his own age. There are a thousand reasons it wouldn’t work between us, way more reasons than it ever would. But sitting here, with Bishop’s arms solidly around me, our odds don’t scare me.
I’ll take my chances.
Acknowledgments
This book exists because of the support I received from a host of amazing people.
Sincere thank-yous to:
Adriann Ranta, for her incredible business savvy and endless patience, but most of all, for “getting it.” (Hopefully she knows what I mean.) Wendy Loggia, for her kindness, sharp insight, and unswerving enthusiasm. I’m forever grateful to be under her wing.
Beverly Horowitz and the entire team at Delacorte Press, for making this book and its predecessor a reality. Particular thanks to Alison Impey, for creating not one but two covers I fell in love with; Nicole Banholzer and Sadie Trambetta, for handling publicity for my books; the copyediting department, for saving me from my own embarrassing mistakes; Stephanie O’Cain and the marketing team, for getting my book out there; and everyone who I’ve never spoken with but who have undoubtedly done more than their fair share for my books (Krista Vitola, I’m looking at you!). Thanks also to Amy Black, Pamela Osti, and the rest of the team at Doubleday Canada for helping my book reach Canadian readers.
Brandy Allard, for putting up with years of conversation monopoly and always believing in me even when I didn’t. (It’s your turn. And yes, you can do it.) Ruth Lauren Steven, for reading everything—sometimes two, three, and four times—giving me critical insight that manages to make me laugh, and letting me know when I’m being a miserable cow.
Amy Plum, for giving me a stellar blurb for Hexed. I’m honored to have her name on my books.
Amy Tintera, for not missing a beat when I said, “So say Los Angeles was a prison city for the paranormal divided into two rival gang territories—how would you split that up?” Thanks also for the very kind blurb for Hexed.
Everyone in Gunning for Awesome—Natalie C. Parker, Stephanie Winkelhake, Gemma Cooper, Deborah Hewitt, Amy Christine Parker, Lori M. Lee, Corinne Duyvis, Kim Welchons, and again, Ruth Lauren Steven and Amy Tintera—for the long emails filled with wisdom, insight, and belly laughs. Thanks also for brainstorming a title for this book, even though we eventually went in another direction. (It’s a crying shame Hex Pot 2: Bound and Waxed didn’t make the final cut.) My blog, Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook followers, for making this whole process fun.
The authors of OneFour KidLit, for being such amazing supports during the debut process (and for the bourbon and donuts).