Page 52 of Séance

It’s both amazing and utterly terrifying, and I desperately crave more of him.

More of all of them, if I’m truthful.

One movie turns into two, then three. It’s after midnight when he stirs, inhaling a deep breath, and I freeze, suddenly panicked by what he might think if he woke with my hand in his hair.

I gently untangle my fingers but freeze when he grabs my wrist. Before I can make excuses, he rolls to lie on his back and places my hand over his chest. He gently drags the tips of his fingers over the back of my hand, then he plays with the many rings on my fingers.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept more than a few hours at a time and never so peacefully. I’m not sure if I should apologize for falling asleep on you or beg you never to move.” His voice is gruff, the emotions thick, and I rip my attention away from our hands to look at him.

When I see the scorching heat in his eyes, I stiffen, but it has nothing to do with the need to get away. My lips tingle with the urge to lean down and brush my mouth against his, hungry fora taste of him. Before I can follow through with the impulse, he threads our fingers together and snuggles closer.

His attention drops to my rings, and I stiffen when his fingers lightly trace the runes etched along the side of the metal. “What does this mean?”

I chew on my bottom lip, wondering what I should tell him, desperate not to have him think I’m a freak, but I refuse to lie to him either.

With a heavy sigh, I recall what happened last night, the way the spirits spoke to him, and his casual comment that riding helps clear his head of noise. Taking a chance, I untangle our fingers and pull off the biggest ring to show him the engravings. “You know my nan tells people’s fortunes, right? She does it by reading cards and palms.”

I pretend that we’re having a normal conversation, completely ignoring the way my heart threatens to burst out of my chest. My father’s voice rings in my head, taunting me with the knowledge that if anyone discovers my secret, they will think I’m insane.

Jaceson, possibly sensing my unease, nods and focuses on the ring.

As much as I want to put that life behind me, it’s obviously not an option when I have no control over my abilities. Maybe it’s better to come clean now. I’m already getting too attached to the men, and it’s only going to get worse. If they run, it’s better to know now rather than later.

I have very few pieces of myself remaining.

If they steal my heart, I’m not sure there will be enough left for me to survive.

“I’m like my grandmother, only my abilities are stronger.” I take a deep breath, my chest so tight that it feels like a spirit has sunk their hand into it and wrapped their fist around my heart. “I speak to the dead.”

Chapter Sixteen

JACESON

Talk to the dead?

My mind empties of all thought for a brief second, then disbelief battles skepticism for the predominant emotion, and I’m not sure how to react. Afraid to look at her and scare her away, just like I made my mother run so long ago, I do my best to reserve judgment and keep my opinions to myself.

Rue doesn’t seem crazy, but people are good at hiding shit like that until it’s too late. I’m proof of that. Since I have secrets that I haven’t even shared with my brother, I have no room to cast stones. I twist the ring in my hand, my fingertips running over the lines etched along the edges. “And the markings?”

“The rings help quiet their voices,” she murmurs so softly that I barely hear her. “The runes are wards to keep the dead away.”

Static fills my head as I study the runes closer, the hair on the back of my neck lifting at the mention of voices. Her experience with voices sounds so eerily similar to my own that my grip tightens on the ring.

“Do me a favor?” She reaches over and captures my hand. Instead of reclaiming the jewelry, she shoves the metal over my pinky, the ring scraping slightly against my knuckle until it’s nestled snuggly at the base of my finger.

My throat tightens at her touch, so when I speak, my question rasps harshly against my throat. “What?”

“I’m not asking you to believe me, but Iamasking you to trust me.” She loosens her hold and runs her fingers lightly over the ring. “Wear this for me, okay? Don’t take it off.”

Confusion swirls in me for a moment, then I go rigid. I jerk away from her touch and land on my feet, unable to think clearly with her so near. Placing my hands on my hips, I glare down at her, my question emerging as a growl. “Why?”

She couldn’t know about my secret.

The voices in my head.

No one knows except my mother.

The thought of her telling anyone has my hands itching to wrap around her delicate throat with the need to silence her. Shame instantly heats my cheeks, but not enough for me to take back the harsh question. My fear won’t let me.

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