Instead of paying attention to my plea and slowing down, he speeds up, leaving my stomach behind us as I scream. Everything heightens as my gaze locks dead ahead, set on the brick wall we’re careening straight toward.
“Thorne!” I repeat, desperate and scared as the chances of being able to turn away from the collision dwindles to impossible.
I brace for impact, my stomach churning as my breath lodges in my throat. There’s no time for my life to flash before my eyes, not a second for me to consider my regrets, or even a brief moment to acknowledge my life in any capacity. But when the hood of the Corvette meets the obstacle, it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t even slow down. It barely even registers what’s happening until we’re driving down a deserted path.
“What the fuck was that?” I blurt when I’m sure I’m not dead… or am I? Is that what this is now? The afterlife?
“You mean the portal?” he clarifies, and I snap my gaze to his. He’s not smirking this time, but he doesn’t have the confidence to meet my stare either.
Asshole.
“How am I here right now?” I ask, rubbing my palm in small circles on my chest as I sit in limbo, feeling the dregs of panic desperate to engulf me, but they manage to stay at bay. For now.
“I can leave when I wish,” he finally answers as the derelict road leads into a busier town. I have no idea where we are, and I’m nowhere near ready to ask yet. I need to address one thing at a time.
“Are you saying you can leave whenever you want, and you don’t?” That sounds insane to me. I know I’m trying to embrace my life in The Vale, but if I knew my efforts would be met with guaranteed victory, I’d hightail it out of there so fast they would never even realize I was here to begin with.
“Where else am I supposed to go?” he murmurs, making my chest tighten as I recall the sliver of information I know about him. He’s the last surviving shadow fae. That means no friends, no family, no anything, except what The Vale and Institute Thirteen have to offer him.
Unable to provide him with an answer, I accept the silence that hangs in the air, using the moment of reprieve to calm my breathing.
The world around us shifts, growing busier as I squint through the glass, his words finally takingroot. He can leave whenever he wants, which means… we’re in the real world. The moment I think it, I know it to be true, and I exhale, relishing in the fake air of freedom it offers me.
Just becausehecan do as he pleases doesn’t mean I can.
Part of me wants to ask, to be sure I fully understand, but I can’t bring myself to burst the bubble I’ve created. Instead, I stare out of my passenger window, watching the world go by as one second drifts into another, then another, before they become minutes. I’m sure we travel for well over an hour, one pretty view leading into another as we drive along the coastline. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to sand, but I don’t tell him that. Not after the stunt he pulled. Besides, it seems we can’t discuss anything personal, and that fact definitely has the ability to leave me vulnerable.
Instead, I sit in silence, taking it all in, every single morsel, until the car begins to slow and he takes the next turn, bringing us to a halt by a small looking shack right on the beach. I gulp, unable to process my emotions as he opens the doors and steps out without waiting for me.
The lack of communication is fine. I don’t think I could speak if I tried. Unbuckling myself, I climb out of the vehicle, shivering at the breeze thatflutters around me. I probably should have worn more layers, but in my defense, I didn’t realize we would be leaving The Vale, so I threw on one of the summery dresses Ocean insisted I buy. Folding my arms over my chest, I run my palms over my arms.
My hair dances around my face and my attempts to tame it fail miserably, so I direct my attention toward Thorne, who is standing at the hood of the car with his hands in his pockets and shades hiding his eyes.
Hotter.
Goddamn this man. It should not be possible.
I rake my eye over his bare arms, imagining a trail of ink dusting his skin, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his relaxed polo top, and I quickly have to shake myself out of the trance he has me under. As if sensing the fact that I’m on the verge of violating him in my mind, he spins on his heels and heads for the shack. I take my cue to follow him, and the moment we’re inside the small building, I instantly miss the air wrapping around me, but the smell of fried onions fills my senses and my stomach grumbles.
Thorne heads for the counter, and I stay a couple of steps behind, happy to let him lead the way as I take it all in. It’s bigger in here than it looks from the outside, with eight four-seater tables to theleft, the counter dead ahead, and bathrooms off to the right. The dark wood furnishings are worn, but it’s the brightly colored surfboards hung on the walls that capture my attention.
I’ve seen them in movies, sure, but they’re huge.
The sound of the register pinging rings through the air a moment before a hand lands on my upper arm. I stiffen, but the panic quickly diminishes a second later when I see it’s Thorne.
“Head outside. I’ll bring the food in a minute,” he murmurs, his eyebrows gathered, yet I’m the one riddled with confusion.
Gulping, I nod and take off toward the door. He doesn’t need to tell me twice.
I sag the second I’m outside. The AC inside fails in comparison to the salty air touching my skin. It might make me shiver, but I love it regardless. Peering through the window, I spot Thorne waiting at the counter and decide now is the perfect opportunity to edge closer to the sand.
Rubbing my lips together nervously, I take small, measured steps until I’m an inch away. Torn between reaching down to run my fingers through it or kicking off my sandals, I opt for the latter, gasping as I press my foot into the white powder and wiggle my toes.
I make quick work of removing my othersandal, clasping them together in one hand as I take another step onto the sand. It’s unbelievable how good it feels. Hurrying forward a few more inches, I crouch, trailing my finger through the grains as I leave a little imprint of myself there on the beach.
The water’s edge beckons me closer, but I glance over my shoulder first, checking to see where Thorne is, and my heart drops when I spy him by the car with two packages in his hand. The moment is over. Standing, I turn to face him, but before I can take a single step, he cuts the distance between us, joining me on the sand.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to presume I know what he wants and insist we go, but I keep my tongue wedged between my teeth, refusing to sacrifice a small guilty pleasure like this. When he’s right in front of me, he extends one of the bags in my direction and I cock a brow at him in question.
