Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (72)

“I could hit you upside the head and see if that shakes anything loose,” he offered.

I opened my mouth to shoot something back when I saw a pickup heading our way. It wasn’t one of ours, but it only took a matter of seconds for me to recognize it as Aster’s. Maybe she was coming over to have a girls’ night with Nova. Movies and face masks or some sort of thing.

But as the woman who’d been haunting my every waking thought rounded the garage, I knew I was wrong.

Fucking hell.

Nova’s nearly midnight hair cascaded down her back in loose waves. She wore a navy dress made out of some sort of silky material that skimmed over her delicate curves in a way that had me knocked stupid. The only part that wasn’t silky was a panel of lace that formed the straps and ghosted over her cleavage.

But it was the boots that nearly sent me over the edge. They were a variety of blue tones that hit at mid-calf, with silver stars stitched into them. All I could think about was Nova in nothing but those damn boots.

Waylon elbowed me hard in the stomach. “You look like you want to break something.”

I did. I wanted to break any man who had the privilege of looking at Nova. Including me.

“Where are you going?” The words came out more harshly than intended, making Nova jump.

She quickly recovered, masking anything she might’ve been feeling. “There’s a band at the Boot. We’re going to dance.”

A million different curses flew through my head. “You can’t.”

I knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment it left my mouth.

Nova arched a brow as one graceful hand came to her hip. “Oh, I can’t?” The move only accentuated everything about what she was wearing and the beauty that was the lines of her body. It was also then that I realized she was wearing the bracelets Skylar had made her.

“It’s not safe,” I choked out.

Nova rolled her eyes. “I’m going with Aster, and we’re using the buddy system. Wylder and Aidan are working. I’m not going to be stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid—”

“Good, then we agree. See you around, Kol.” She sent a soft smile in Waylon’s direction. “Don’t get into too much trouble, Way Way.”

He only chuckled and waved. Then Nova hopped into Aster’s truck, and they were off before I could say another word.

“You really fucked that one up good,” Waylon muttered. “Stupid stick is alive and well.”

I glared at him before turning on my heel and heading back into the house. “I need to go change.”

“You might want to practice your groveling on the drive into town,” he called after me.

Goddamn it, he was right.





CHAPTER THIRTY


Nova




ILACED MY FINGERS IN FRONT OF ME AS THE MUSICIANS onstage played a cover of a Steve Miller Band song. They were good. Really good. But I wasn’t sure I could exactly enjoy it.

I hadn’t been around this many people since … I didn’t know when. I tried to think back, through the patchy memories of my time in captivity, to before and the woman I barely knew anymore. I’d liked music and dancing.

Brae hadn’t been able to go out often because of Owen, but I would occasionally go see some live music with friends from the yoga studio or the coffee shop. I tried to remember the last concert I’d been to.

Memories came in flashes. A jam band on the water. The smell of the sea and a hint of pot in the air. So much laughter. I wanted that again. To let loose.

“You say the word. Anytime,” Aster offered, moving toward my side.

We’d found a corner where I wouldn’t get bumped, but there were so many people that I wasn’t sure it would last. I swallowed hard. I didn’t know how I’d do if anyone but Kol touched me.

“I’m good,” I said with a solidness to my words. I didn’t try to fake a smile, not with Aster. She saw too much. “I want to try. If I don’t stretch myself now and then, I won’t ever move past where I am right now.”

Aster sent me a soft smile full of reassurance. “The only thing we can do. Gentle challenges on the days we feel up for them.”

“I like thinking of it that way—gentle challenges.”

Her fingers wrapped around her club soda and lime, showing off her pale-purple nail polish. “Me, too.”

“So,” I asked, moving into new, normal territory. “Any of these fools tearing up the floor exes?”

Aster choked on a laugh, patting her chest. “Warn a girl before you ask things like that.”

I grinned, but her reaction had me curious. Aster was stunningly beautiful, with pale-blond hair and the lightest blue eyes I’d ever seen in real life. It was clear that fashion was a form of expression for her. Even now, everything she wore read artful ease.

Wide-leg, dark jeans were cinched with a chestnut-colored belt featuring an ornate—yet aged—golden buckle, paired with a tucked-in, sleeveless white top. Peeking out from under the flared legs of her pants were red boots, the one piece of flashy flair she wore. And around her neck were several delicate gold chains.

I had a feeling that the majority of the men in this place would be happy to take Aster to dinner and do a heck of a lot more than that. But she seemed shocked that I thought she’d dated anyone.