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He murmured something, but it didn’t trigger the translation spell. The insolent child who hated being excluded wanted to know what he said, but the frustration was fleeting as I really saw his back. An inch or so to the left of his spine and just under his ribs was a large scar at least an inch or so wide and triple that in length. It was the pale white of a wound long healed, but it must have hurt like a bitch when it had first happened. There were others, too, smaller raised lines that were the remnants of a sharp blade. Automatically, I traced one of the thin scars that sat on my inner thigh, nearly identical to the way his looked. Though where mine were more a matter of texture than color difference, all of his sat in stark contrast to his tawny skin that seemed flawless otherwise.

He murmured something else and lifted his hand, palm up. All four of the candles extinguished at once. My breath caught.

Then he stood in a lithe grace that had my stomach fluttering in an absolutely asinine way. To get attached to him when Sloane and I were going back to Arizona was idiotic. And yet the expanse of his back was enough to have my body reacting in a way it hadn’t in a long time. If I saw any more of his skin? Recipe for an embarrassing disaster. I ducked my head, braiding my hair over one shoulder to keep myself distracted as he moved around the bed to the dresser. He eased into one of his shirts, the cream of the fabric suiting his warm undertone in a way it never would my own skin. He kept turned away from me as he methodically brushed his hair and pulled it back with a leather tie.

I floundered, trying to find something to break the silence. There was a soft knock on the bedroom’s door before I managed to come up with something.

Vincent’s voice was loud enough to carry to me.

“Breakfast will be ready soon. Would you like it brought here or join the others at the inn?”

Callum looked over his shoulder. “Amethyst?”

He was leaving the decision up to me?

I licked my lips, trying to swallow the lump that was practically permanent at this point.

“I… guess join the others?”

Damn, that came out way too hesitant. Callum didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll let them know,” Vincent said, “and send over one of the women.”

Callum murmured something that didn’t translate and then closed the door. When he turned to me, his eyes traced over my haphazard braid and then the heavy sweater I still hadn’t taken off. His Adam’s apple moved with a swallow. There was that fluttering in my stomach again.

His voice was hoarse. “The innkeeper’s wife set a warming enchantment on the water if you’d like to bathe. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

He left before I could say anything, the door clicking shut. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, resisting the urge to dig them out. I was definitely going to need that serum today. When the burning had faded back into just that underlying ache, I focused on the small door on the wall nearest me.

A warming enchantment? Had he brought up water for a bath, maybe?

My hands trembled a bit as I eased the pocket door open, revealing a basic bathroom complete with a pedestal sink, toilet, and porcelain tub. There were no buckets of water sitting on the floor, just a faucet mounted to the wall a few inches above the center of the tub.

A faucet.

“Oh my god, there’s actual plumbing,” I breathed.

It took nearly a full minute when I turned the left spigot, but then water poured into the tub, splashing high enough to leave drops on the hem of my shift. It was clean and warm. Not blisteringly hot, but given the feet of snow surrounding this small town, warm was a feat on its own.

With clumsy movements, I stripped out of the shift and sweater, leaving them to drop on the plank flooring. The groan as I sank into the water was pure instinct, something I couldn’t hope to contain. As the water slowly rose around me, I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my head on my knees, closing my eyes against the soft light streaming in from the window above the tub.

Last night replayed in my mind on an ever-more-embarrassing loop. I’d asked him to stay, like some desperate child terrified of ending up alone somewhere destitute. I was going to blame the exhaustion for that slip. It was a stupid question. He’d made it clear I couldn’t stay. The consequences for breaking faith with whatever tradition the Rite stemmed from must be severe for all of them to be so set on making any return to Arizona possible.

I resented being bounced yet again, but I tried not to let it fester. It wasn’t their fault Sloane and I had gotten pulled into this whole thing. It certainly wasn’t Callum’s. Maybe that was part of why the idea of staying was gaining appeal. I’d never had someone be so careful with me, not even the social workers when I was a young child.

No. I couldn’t. I needed to contact Sloane and come up with a plan with her, the way we’d discussed in that tent on the beach. We’d both been chosen, pulled from that chilling island. Now it was time to reconnect and go home.

Home to what must be no job and late rent.

Soft steps kept me from spiraling around that particular reality.

“Amethyst?” Shelby asked. “Are you all right?”

Absolutely not.

“Y-yeah. Just my eyes still hurting.”

“Let me go get the serum,” she said. There was a soft click of something heavy against porcelain. “I brought items to wash your hair if you’d like to do that while I’m gone.”