Page 13

HAZEL

I f I die because of a giant frog with wings, I swear I’m coming back just to haunt the entire Council of Magical Beasts. And I won’t be subtle about it either—I’m talking full-on poltergeist glitter revenge.

“This is fine,” I mutter as I sprint through the dense underbrush. “Everything is fine.”

Behind me, something snarls.

Correction: something slurps —like a frog mixed with a bear, on steroids, maybe cursed, maybe just cranky because someone ( me ) accidentally woke it up while collecting spell-activated night moss near the eastern marsh.

The creature lets out a thunderous croak-snort hybrid that rattles the trees.

I catch a glimpse as I trip over a root and duck behind a fallen log—green hide, slick and iridescent like oil in moonlight, with four too-long legs and translucent wings that flutter with a sound like a thousand cards shuffling.

Its eyes are huge. Glassy. And glowing.

I am officially out of my magical depth.

I reach for my wand.

Snap it up. Flick.

Nothing.

“Don’t do this now,” I whisper.

The wand sparks feebly. Fizzles. Dies.

“Oh, you traitorous twig.”

The beast barrels toward me, tongue lashing out like a whip and slamming into the tree above my head, leaving a sizzling scorch mark.

Okay. Cool. I’m going to die because I wanted aesthetically pleasing moss for a charm jar.

Typical.

I throw myself sideways, crash through a thorn bush, and land hard on one knee. The creature turns, its nostrils flaring.

Just as I scramble to my feet, there comes a blur.

A shadow.

Then Derek.

He hits the thing like a weapon forged from myth, slamming into its flank with enough force to knock it sideways. His coat snaps behind him like a banner of doom. His blade is in his hand—not for show this time.

“Run!” he bellows.

But I don’t run.

Because I can’t.

Because my heart is thudding in my ears and my legs won’t move.

I watch him fight.

And it’s terrifying.

And beautiful.

The creature lashes out, claws slicing air, tongue striking like a serpent. Derek moves faster. Strikes. Dodges. He’s fury and precision and silent rage all wrapped in shadow.

He drives the blade into the thing’s chest with a growl that sounds ripped from the earth itself. The creature lets out a horrible screech and dissolves—melting into mist and steam.

Silence falls.

My breath comes in gulps.

Derek turns to me, fangs out, eyes glowing .

“Are you insane? ” he snaps, voice like fire on ice.

I blink. “Hi.”

He stalks toward me.

“You went into the marsh alone.”

“I needed moss.”

“You needed —?!” He throws his hands in the air. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Okay, dramatic?—”

“You could’ve died, Hazel.”

“You always say that!”

“Because it’s always true!”

I stand, heat crawling up my neck.

“You don’t get to yell at me like I’m some helpless idiot.”

“I’m yelling at you because I care, you reckless, glitter-wielding menace!”

I freeze.

So does he.

The air between us crackles.

“You care?” I ask, voice lower now. Dangerous.

His jaw clenches. “You know I do.”

My chest tightens. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Because I’m not safe,” he snaps. “Because I destroy everything I touch.”

“You saved me.”

He shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me a hero.”

I take a step closer. “Then what does it make you?”

His hands twitch at his sides. “Stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I stop breathing.

He does too.

And then I’m moving.

We crash into each other like fate finally snapped its fingers and said enough.

His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s not sweet or slow or careful. It’s desperate. Like he’s been holding back for centuries and finally, finally let himself break.

His hands bury in my hair. Mine claw at his coat.

We don’t come up for air for a long time.

When we do, we’re both wrecked. Shaking.

Breathless.

I rest my forehead against his.

“Why do you keep saving me?” I whisper.

His voice is rough. “Because you make me feel like I’m alive.”

He freezes.

I feel it. The shift.

The warmth in his grip drains like someone pulled the plug. His fingers twitch against my waist, then fall away. His jaw tightens. His eyes—those dark, beautiful, endless eyes—snap shut.

“Derek?” I whisper.

But he’s already stepping back.

One. Two. Three paces.

He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t say anything.

Just turns.

And runs.

“Wait—what? What the hell?! ”

He vanishes into the woods before I can blink the shock from my system.

I stand there, lips still swollen, heart thundering, magic buzzing under my skin like a live wire—and he just leaves.

Are you freaking kidding me?

“Derek!” I shout after him. “You can’t just make out with me like that and then go full brooding vampire bolt mode!”

Nothing.

Just the trees. The silence. The echo of my own heartbeat slamming in my chest like it’s trying to understand what the hell just happened.

I pace.

Back and forth. Hands in my hair. Breathing fast and shallow.

“Unbelievable. I mean—who does that? Who kisses someone like it’s the last thing keeping them tethered to the world and then just disappears? ”

My voice bounces off the trees.

No answer.

Just me. Alone. Again.

And gods, it hurts.

Because for one damn second, I let myself believe it.

Believe he meant it.

That maybe, just maybe, I was more than a mess he felt obligated to protect.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve and glare in the direction he ran like I can hex him by sheer willpower.

“Screw you, Derek Virel,” I mutter. “Next time, I’m letting the murder frog eat me.”

And then I sink to the ground, heart raw, lips still tingling, and try not to cry.

Spoiler: I fail.