The Undead Pool

“You can’t let the demons see you with mystics in you. Even Al,” he said, and fear spiked through me. “You don’t understand the depth of hatred they have for us. Especially now that there’re a dozen Rosewood survivors growing up healthy. The demons know they exist. They’re simply ignoring them until their neural nets are mature enough to play with.”

“I said, why are you here?” I asked again, breath catching when he got to his feet.

“Rachel, your aura is white with mystics,” he said, and I didn’t pull away when he took my elbow. “They’re not fools. They’ll know. They will remember. They hate the Goddess.”

“Then maybe they know how to contain her,” I said, lifting my elbow away. “Getting help from the demons is the best option we’ve got. So it’s the harder choice—why change anything now?”

Exhaling, Trent leaned closer, and the scent of cinnamon and wine crashed over me. “I want you to slow down,” he said. “We can figure this out. Going to Al is not the only option; it’s the easiest for everyone but you.” A hint of fear settled into his strained expression. “I can’t do easy anymore. It’s too hard on my soul.”

There was danger in his words, and I turned to set the empty pans in the sink. “You’re getting married,” I said, back to him. “You lost your say in what I do.” Lips pressed, I turned around. “Why are you even here?”

“I came to talk some sense into you,” he said. “And I’m not leaving until I know you’re not going to do this.”

My head hurt, and I looked down, thinking my feet were too long to be pretty. “What you want doesn’t matter.” I brought my gaze up, shocked to see how he looked in my kitchen, pleading at me to listen to him. “Trent, you worked hard to become responsible for the elves, and that goes both ways. You belong to them. You belong to Lucy, and Ray, and Ellasbeth. You belong to flipping Cincinnati and every elf east of the Mississippi. I work for you when I need the money, and I’m not doing it anymore. You made a choice. It was a good one and I support it, but you can’t have it both ways. So go away and let me do my job!”

He stepped forward, forcing me back. “You’re right. I made a decision. It was the wrong one.”

Shit. I felt my face go white. Mystics clustered in me, looking for the source of my fear, amazed to find it again in emotion, not physical hurt. More gathered, fascinated and making me dizzy.

“When I heard you were taken by the Goddess, I tried,” Trent said, noting his mismatched sleeves and rolling one up. “I did what I was supposed to do. I stayed where it was safe. I fulfilled my responsibilities by sending that finding charm to Edden. I told myself that he could find you, that you’d be okay. And you were. I did the right thing, what was acceptable and needed—and it worked. But it almost killed me.”

He came close, and I backed up until I hit the counter. Watching me, he took my hand in his, bringing it up between us. I looked at it with mine, seeing the masculine strength in his long, graceful fingers. “I’m not going to work for you ever again,” I whispered, wanting his fingers skating across my skin. “Don’t ask.”

Trent’s eyes fixed on mine. “I told Ellasbeth to leave this morning.”

My breath caught, and I held it, feeling dizzy. “What?”

His smile was faint and tremulous—unsure and confident all at the same time. “Right after you hung up on me. You were right that I had no voice in what you did if I married her, and I didn’t like it. I told Quen to pack her things if she didn’t. I told her to be out by tomorrow. I told her that she would have the girls three months in the summer, and that’s it, and if she contests it, she will never see them again. I’m not going to marry her. Ever. I don’t love her, and I never will.”

His hand on me was trembling. My God. For once in his life, he was setting aside what was expected of him and following . . . his heart. “You can’t do that,” I whispered, scared. “Everyone expects . . .”

“I already did.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t want easy anymore. It’s worthless and the shine doesn’t last. But you already knew that.”

This wasn’t happening. I mean, I’d seen the signs, I’d seen them, and we had agreed . . . “Why are you doing this?” I said, a flash of anger coloring my words. This was unfair! We had agreed! Why was he dangling this in front of me when he knew it wasn’t a real possibility? “You know who I am!”

His expression became serious, and his hand almost slipped from mine. “I’ve had a long time to think about it.”

“This can’t work!”

He looked down, then jerked his head up in frustration as his fingers tightened on mine. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Rachel. I just . . .”

My heart pounded, and he stepped closer, so close the scent of cinnamon and wine enveloped me.

“I like walking into a room and seeing your face light up when you see me,” he said earnestly, the sun from the open window making his hair glow. “I like arguing with Quen over the wisdom of employing a demon to be my security.”