My stomach does a somersault.
Up until this second everything felt normal. We were just two sentries, passing the time with conversation. But now he is no longer just Hyde. He is Hyde, who says he wants to know me, which feels so much more profound than to get to know me. Hyde, who asks me how I’m doing without Liv and talks about magic like it’s in your eyes, not in the world.
I search for it now. I search for magic in his blue eyes.
I don’t see it, but what I do see is just as surprising.
There is hope in Hyde’s eyes, and it’s real and honest and so different from the physical hunger I’m accustomed to seeing in the gazes of men.
I lick my lips, choosing my next words with care. “You do know me, Hyde.”
I am blatantly fishing for more.
No. I’m not fishing. He is on the line, and I’m reeling him in.
“True.” Hyde blinks, his smile wobbling. “I meant know you better.”
It’s the exact answer I expected. Exactly what I wanted to hear.
“You haven’t lost your chance.” I lean closer to him. “How can you lose a chance if you haven’t even taken it?”
He holds perfectly still for a long moment. Then he inclines his head a little to the side, bringing his face closer to mine. His blue eyes drop to my mouth. We’re close enough that I can see every fine hair on his jaw. This is my chance to retreat, but I don’t.
A delicious spell has fallen over me. I want this. And I’m moving on. This is what it means to move on.
I feel Hyde’s hand cradle the back of my head, but I need no encouragement to draw closer.
Our lips meet and hold, both of us stiff with awkwardness for an instant. Then Hyde’s lips part and his tongue slides, velvet soft, against mine.
Desire seeps through my limbs like warm honey as we find our way, shifting closer.
He is patient and gentle at first, but then he becomes playful. He nibbles at my bottom lip, and I can tell he’s smiling. He’s a happy kisser. A girl could fall in love with that, I think.
Heat curls in my veins, and I reach for him, wanting more.
His shoulders feel different, not quite rounded enough with muscle, but I ignore that.
His hand is on my back, the pressure too light. I ignore that too.
I focus on the movement of his mouth over mine, which is full of affection and care. He kisses like a poet. Like he’s writing poems on my lips.
But it lacks something. A confidence. A ferocity I’m familiar with.
Ignore, Brooke.
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
It’s too late. I realize I’m getting in my head too much, because I hear the leaves rustle with a breeze. Hyde senses my hesitation, and his hand stills on my cheek. I feel the softest tremble of his fingers on my skin. I don’t want it to tremble. I am past tremble.
Perry knew I liked him to take control. He knew what I wanted. By now he would have—
I suck in a breath, feeling like an arrow has sliced right through my heart.
I jerk back. Hyde’s eyes fly open. We both freeze for an endless instant. Then I jump to my feet.
My legs shake beneath me as shame and lust play tug-of-war in my body. How could I think about Perry just then? What is wrong with me?
Hyde scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Brooke. Was that too much?”
I’m so confused. I don’t know what just happened. No. I do know. Kissing Hyde wasn’t too much. It wasn’t too little, either. It just wasn’t kissing Perry.
“No. It was great.” My voice comes out scratchy, like I’m going to cry.
Hyde rises to his feet. For a moment I think he’s going to leave, but he doesn’t. He steps closer. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I really like you. I know about you and Perry, and maybe this was too soon. Maybe it’s not the right time, with all that’s happening. But I don’t care. I’ll wait for you.”
“I like you too, Hyde.” It’s the truth. He is thoughtful and romantic, and I should appreciate him for who he is, instead of just seeing him as not like Perry. “It’s just that . . .” I bite my lip, not wanting to explain to him that he is amazing but I am the one who is a mess. “You shouldn’t wait for me.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on, but I do know that having him wait for me isn’t going to help.
Hyde’s gaze darts past me suddenly. He lets out a curse, his posture tensing. In an instant he is all warrior again. A sentry who has just spotted danger.
Our waiting is over.
4
In the midst of a scrubby stand of birches roughly a mile away, I see what has alarmed him.
Three people. Too far for me to see their faces. Close enough that I can tell they are all men. We watch them for a few moments, taking in the practiced stealth of their movements. How their progress is careful and furtive, and runs parallel to the well-trod trail instead of on it. There is no doubt in my mind—they are attempting to stay concealed. The men in the distance aren’t weary travelers seeking asylum. They are hostile.
Hyde comes to the same conclusion. “That’s trouble.”
“Let’s run them off.”
Hyde pulls his bow and quiver over his shoulder. His eyes blaze with intensity, and his muscles are coiled and rigid, like he’s ready to spring forward. There’s not a trace of kindness or playfulness in him anymore.
He gives a tight nod, and we jog down the hill toward the trespassers.
With a hundred yards still to go, Hyde and I slow to a quiet prowl. We could shout at them to leave from here. We could engage them with our bows. Hyde is a brilliant archer, as accurate as I am. But I have a clear view of the three men now. They have stopped walking, and I can see their faces.