Page 55 of Bring Me Your Midnight

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’respyingon 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 hasnothingto 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—”