Page 76

It’s been seven years. Callie’s no longer a teenager. She can now legally drink, gamble, buy cigarettes. I’ve missed an entire era of her life, and the loss burns deep. How much more will I have to miss? Will she be stooped and frail by the time I can wrap my arms around her again? I can feel the sands of her life slipping down the hourglass, bringing her closer and closer to death. It makes me fevered, panicked.

I fly on, watching the clouds turn from pale orange to cotton candy pink, to dusty lilac. Eventually, they blend in with the deep blue evening sky.

I steel myself as I near that elusive boundary that marks the edge of my reach. Malibu is near enough that I can differentiate the buildings dotting the land. Near enough to make me see clearly what I’m being denied.

I press on, waiting for the moment my power will force me to stop. I feel it several seconds before I reach the magical boundary. Like always, I push against it, battling my own power.

Only this time, something’s different.

It’s weaker, putting up less resistance as I slam a fist into it. It shudders, my disturbance like a ripple along a lake.

That’s never happened.

Encouraged, I hit it with another blow. It doesn’t give.

C’mon.

Gathering my power into my fist I strike it once, hard. This time, it’s like a bomb detonating.

The magic explodes, hitting me square in the chest and throwing me backwards. As I careen through the sky, I feel Callie’s seven-year-old debt finally—finally—dissipate.

Paid in full.

I don’t breathe as I right myself.

I rub my chest, feeling the last remnants of my magic slide back into me.

Gods’ hands, it’sover.

The wait is over.

Less than a year ago

I fly therest of the way to Callie’s beach house, my heart pounding furiously.

At last, I will be able to see her, feel her, breathe her in! There will be no more other men, no more long, lonely nights.

I land soundlessly on her property, my wings folding behind me. I can feel something in the air and in my bones, a magic drawn up from the core of the earth.

A thousand times I imagined returning to her as I am now, and every second of the flight that brought me here I agonized that somehow this wasn’t real. Surely after all that waiting, it’s not just over.

I run my fingers over an aged terracotta pot that sits on her patio, the succulent it holds spilling out from it. Her house, her things—I can touch them! The magic never let me before. I had to sustain myself on scraps of information up until now. For a man like me, the secrecy nearly killed me.

I’m seeing Callie’s place for the first time. The inside is dark, and I can sense that at the moment, the place is empty. It stirs my blood into a frenzy, knowing that I’ll have to wait even longer to see her again. Now that the debt’s been paid, I have no patience for waiting.

I could always seek her out, but that sort of eagerness puts one at a disadvantage, and when it comes to reclaiming my mate, I have enough working against me as is—namely the fact that she blames me for leaving her seven years ago.

Her sliding glass door snicks as the lock unlatches. Silently it slips open, and I step inside.

Callie’s scent hits me, and it nearly brings me to my knees. How had I lasted this long without it?

My boots scuff against the gritty floor. I toe the sand that lays scattered along the ground, the unmistakable shape of half a footprint still visible.

Callie. My siren. Can’t keep herself away from the ocean.

My footfalls sound heavy as I make my way through her living room. I pick up an empty wine bottle and read the label. Hermitage. I nearly whistle. Expensive taste.

I’ve heard enough about Callie to know it’s not just wine she drinks. Whiskey is her other poison of choice, and if my information is correct—which it nearly always is—she enjoys her spirits more often than she should.