Tanner’s mouth dropped open. He gulped. A couple of seconds ticked by. Major awkward. Oh goddesses, what had she been thinking? She’d ruined everything. Any chance or hope of . . .
“You’re joking, right?” He leaned across the table and cuffed her shoulder, very friend-like. “C’mon Skye, we’re buds. Always have been.” Tanner’s laugh sounded forced, his smile nervous.
Skye jumped up. “Right. Forget I said anything. I’m in a weird mood tonight, must be the full moon. Tell Michael thanks for the groceries.” She walked out of the claustrophobic kitchen quickly, eyes burning and face flaming. She would not cry.
She would not cry.
He followed her out and then paused to answer his cell phone. She heard his voice, low and hurried, “Hey, call you back in a few minutes.”
Probably some girl. It was always some other girl, never her. At least now she knew.
Skye sat on the couch and faced the TV as if she hadn’t gone and made a complete and total fool of herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tanner standing in the hallway, running his hands through his dark hair and shuffling his feet. Why the hell hadn’t she kept her mouth shut?
“Gotta go.” He held up the cell phone and waved it. “Some of us guys are getting together for a party.”
Skye took a deep breath and faced him with a fake smile. “Sure, see ya later.” She jerked her head back to the TV screen. She would not cry.
Skye was so intent on not crying she didn’t hear Tanner cross the room, and suddenly his breath was in her hair, his lips kissed the top of her head. The warm breath sent an electrifying tingle from her scalp to her toes. Skye dug her hands in the chair’s arms to keep from flinging herself on Tanner. This was nothing but a pity kiss.
The heat from Tanner’s body withdrew and he left without another word. Her body chilled from the loss of contact. The door shut. Alone, Skye let the tears flow. That kiss said what Tanner couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say to her face. She tried to convince herself that in knowledge was power and healing.
It didn’t work.
Skye touched the blackened, scorched wicks of the so-called magic candles. The dripping wax, still warm, mocked her failure with the botched love spell. Stay busy, that was the plan to get through this night. Resolutely, she put up the rest of the groceries Tanner brought, pulling out milk, butter, then a Mason jar of jam. Skye held the jar in her hand and paused.
The smooth, cool feel of the glass tingled and she drew a finger over its etched design of grapes and vines. The light and dark swirls of orange marmalade blurred into congealed sunshine and the glass warmed in her palms.
It was like holding magic again. At seven, she’d had her first experience with the possibility of something beyond the here-and-now of the physical world.
She’d captured a firefly one evening and put it in a Mason jar before going to bed. She’d awakened hours later and found the jar aglow with pinpoints of spinning light. Squeaking noises from it grew in volume to gibberish words and she’d pulled the cover over her head, terrified of what might happen next. At some point, she’d fallen asleep and the next morning the jar was empty. No dead fireflies inside, only a hairline crack running from the base to the lid.
There had been magic in that room, she was certain. Her first glimpse of the world beyond.
Skye set down the jam jar on the kitchen counter and sighed. Too bad there had been no magic for her tonight with Tanner.
***
Kheelan stood outside in the moon shadows, alone. Always alone.
There was nothing to be gained from watching the soft orange glow emanating from the girl’s apartment, yet he was drawn to it all the same. He imagined the glimmer as a muted reflection of moonlight on her mass of red hair with its intriguing streaks of purple framing her face. His fingers curled into fists, blocking the frustrated itch to feel his hands stroking that silky hair. He guessed how it would feel— soft, warm, like a safe harbor in the gathering maelstrom of Fae energy.
The blood moon of October cast shimmering beams, tingeing the treetops with crimson. By Halloween, it would reach fullness, and the balance of good and evil in the Fae kingdom would be in peril just as the veil between the human and spirit worlds would be at its thinnest. An in-between, middling time. A dangerous time.
But Kheelan was used to being in two worlds at once, yet belonging to neither.
What was wrong with him? You’d think he’d never seen a beautiful girl. Besides, even the prettiest human couldn’t compare to the charm and enchantment of any run-of-the-mill fairy. And he should know. The daoine-sith Fae Kingdom rewarded him with a fairy lover whenever he completed an especially dangerous mission—like they were giving an obedient dog a bone.