I lie back down and close my eyes.
“Mortana?”
My eyes snap open, and I squint into the darkness. There is only one person who uses my full name. When I hear it a third time, I understand what’s happening: Wolfe is using his magic, inviting me to the beach.
I lay my head down and force my eyes shut, but even as I do, hot anger blooms in my chest and rises up my neck. My eyes burn, and it hurts to swallow.
He isn’t worth it, and I hate that he has put me in this situation, made me question all the things I love.
He says my name one last time before giving up.
Good. I hope he never says my name again.
As soon as I think it, a tear slips down my cheek and drops onto my pillow. I wipe it away, take a deep breath, and try to find sleep.
nineteen
Seven nights. For seven nights, Wolfe tries to reach me, whispering my name on the wind at midnight, beckoning me to the western shore. And every whisper kindles the fire of anger inside me, spreading it through my chest and into my arms, up my neck and over my skin.
All-consuming.
When he says my name tonight, I’m ready. I sneak out of the house and down the empty street, dodging the golden glow of the lanterns above me. I don’t stop running until I reach the edge of the island, where Wolfe’s back is bathed in moonlight.
It’s almost a full moon again.
“What do you want?” I say the words before he even turns around, letting my anger sharpen them.
He twists to face me.
“I want you to stop telling your friends about me.”
I stop walking. “Excuse me?”
“There are wind chimes at my home, and their only purpose is to sound when we’re in danger of being found out. They went off last week for the first time in years.”
“You’re spying on us?” My anger flares as I take a step toward him. I can’t believe I let myself get mixed up with someone like him.
“We can’t hear conversations. The wind chimes are magicked, and when certain words or phrases are used, they sound. We can only hear the chimes, not what was said. Regardless, they haven’t gone off in years, which leads me to believe you’re what set them off. So, once again, stop talking about me.”
Embarrassment mixes with anger, which is a terrible combination. I combust.
“I will tell every single witch on this island that you exist if you don’t leave me alone.”
“I wouldn’t have called to you if the chimes hadn’t gone off. If you want me to leave you alone, stop talking about me. Stop thinking about me. Stop making me gifts and using my magic as if it’s your destiny.”
Heat infiltrates my head and clouds my mind, making it hard to think. “I have a destiny, and it has nothing to do with your magic.”
He steps toward me. “You really think you’re fated for the governor’s son?”
Sand sprays his chest and face before I even decide to kick the beach. He steps back and wipes at his eyes, a heavy silence falling between us.
The ocean’s constant roar isn’t enough to cover up the beating of my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I say, shocked by my actions. “I didn’t mean to get you.”
He spits sand from his mouth and blinks several times.
“Don’t apologize,” he says, his voice stern. “You apologize too much.”
“You don’t apologize enough,” I say.
I can see my breath in the cold autumn air. Wolfe stands so close to me that it touches his face before vanishing.
“What do I have to apologize for?” His tone is challenging and arrogant, and it reignites my anger.
“Everything,” I say, gesturing to the ocean as if he’ll understand. “You made me miss the rush, forcing me—”
“I saved your life,” he says, cutting me off.
“I was forced to use your dark magic and keep seeing you—”
“So we’re back to calling it dark magic now?”
“Stop interrupting me!” I scream, momentarily forgetting that no one can know I’m here. The piercing words echo for a breath before being swallowed by the sea. “I was happy before you came along.” I can’t help the tears that burn my eyes and spill over my lashes. “I was happy.”
“You were ignorant.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, you were ignorant.” Wolfe shakes his head and looks out into the distance, and even though my vision is blurred, I can see how good he looks drenched in moonlight. It doesn’t matter; he is nothing to me. He can’t be.