“Rune.” His voice is calm, steady. “I’m just joking. It’s some kind of illusion.”
“Sure,” I say dubiously. It doesn’t look like an illusion to me.
“Ethan thinks we can’t get along, right? That we don’t have what it takes to finish that damn project of his. What did that thing say?A test of communication,right? So let’s fucking communicate, and prove him wrong.”
“Wecan’tget along,” I point out, trembling as I look down into the lava. What will happen if we lose our balance and fall in? Worse still, what will happen if I’ve misjudged Donovan and he pushes me? What if this is all a trick, to take my life? Or his?
“Sure we can. At least, long enough to get out of here. Now, look at me.”
With considerable effort, I drag my gaze from the fiery depths and meet his gaze. “Good,” he says. “Their eyes must not waver,remember? Don’t look away.”
And so I don’t. I stare into those deep blue pools as the mirrors shiver, their surfaces rippling to reflect distorted, funhouse versions of ourselves. “Step to the right,” all the Donovans say—the one right in front of me and all of the warped versions of him. “With me. Here.”
His hands rise, gripping mine. The moment we touch, the floor beneath us shudders. That electrical shock is back, flowing between us, sparking over our skin.
“Do you feel that?” Donovan’s voice is a hoarse whisper.
I nod, my mouth dry. “Donovan?—”
He shakes his head. “Just…step to the right, would you? Onto the stones.”
The air between us wavers, and I can’t help but think about what Cooper said—about how our proximity is what’s causing the ley lines to spike. About how it could unravel the world. But I can’t make myself let go of Donovan’s hands. I don’t want to.
“I can’t see the stones,” I whisper. “Not if I’m looking at you.”
His throat works as he swallows. “I…I could pick you up, so we’re at eye level. And then you could look, for both of us. From your angle, you’d be able to keep eye contact with me in the mirror, and see the reflection of the stones, too. And I’d look at your reflection, so we wouldn’t break the rules.”
“Pick me up?” The words emerge as a squeak.
“If you’ll let me.”
I should say no. God, I know I should. But instead, I manage another nod, and then I’m in Donovan’s arms. He scoops me up, like I’m a bride he’s carrying over the threshold. I can feel hisheart thrashing against me, but his voice is calm when he says, “How far to the right should I go?”
I peer at his reflection, the up-close scent of him intoxicating me. My head swims with it. In my peripheral vision, I make out the glowing stones, somehow shining clearly despite the funhouse warp of the mirrors. “E-eighteen inches,” I stammer.
“Very precise.” I swear I can hear the smile in his voice.
This is, so, so wrong. I ought to insist that he put me down. But I don’t. I let him cradle me as he steps eighteen inches to the right. Then another five, at my direction. Then two. And then at last, onto the first of the glowing stones.
“Holy fuck.” He clutches me tighter as the heat from the lava streams rises, washing over both of us.
I don’t dare take my gaze off the Donovan in the mirror. “Now what?”
“Now,” he says, slowly and deliberately, “we have to figure out how to make it to those three stones to the left.”
I try to glance at them out of the corner of my eye, but the angle’s all wrong. I can’t see a thing, not unless I look away from him.
“How?” I say, my voice trembling.
“Do you trust me?”
His eyes hold mine in the mirror, their expression grave. And despite what’s passed between us, despite everything, there’s only one answer I have to give. “I do.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” he says. And then hejumps,with me in his arms.
We’re airborne for a moment, the lava flowing below us and our eyes fixed on each other’s reflection. Tiny flames lick their way across Donovan’s irises, and for an instant I worry that I’ve made a terrible mistake. But then we land on the stones with a thud that sends him to his knees, eyes still locked on mine in the mirrors, which ripple once more, their distortion vanishing.
I want to make some crack about his Clark Kent alter-ego. About the superhero hiding inside his data engineer shell. But I’m too busy forcing my heart to resume a normal rhythm. All I can do is cling to him and stare into his gorgeous eyes and try to remember how to breathe.
