“Who do you think is using it? Lina or Jude?” he asks, using their names so casually you’d think they were friends.

“Does it matter?” I shrug.

He studies me a moment longer, then averts his gaze. Mind wandering to some long-ago place, somewhere I’ve never been. “So, is that it, then? A brief encounter with the Book of Shadows, and you’re all tuckered out?” he says, returning to me.

“Tuckered?” I lift a brow and shake my head. His odd choice of words never fails to amuse me.

“Too dated?” His lips curve into a grin.

“A little.” I nod, laughing along with him.

“You shouldn’t make fun of the elderly. It’s quite rude, don’t you think?” He playfully chucks me under the chin.

“Quite.” I nod, quieted by the feel of his fingers straying over my cheek, down my neck, all the way to my chest.

We rest our heads against the cushions and gaze at each other, his hands moving nimbly, deftly, making their way over my clothes, both of us wishing it could lead to something more, but determined to be contented with this.

“So what else happened at work?” he whispers, pressing his lips to my skin, the ever-present veil hovering between us.

“Did some organizing, cataloging, filing—oh, and then Honor came in.”

He pulls away, features rearranged into his I told you so gaze. “Relax. It’s not like she was looking for a reading or anything. Or at least she didn’t seem to be.”

“What’d she want?”

“Jude, I guess.” I lift my shoulders, inching my fingers under the hem of his shirt, feeling his smooth expanse of skin and wishing I could crawl under there too. “It was weird seeing her alone though. You know, without Stacia or Craig. It’s like she was a totally different person—all shy and awkward, completely transformed.”

“You think she likes Jude?” His fingers trace the line of my collarbone, his touch so warm, so perfect, barely dimmed by the veil.

I shrug, burying my face in the shallow V of his shirt, inhaling his warm musky scent. Determined to ignore the way my stomach just dipped when he spoke. Having no idea what it means or why I should care if Honor likes Jude, but preferring to push it away nonetheless. “Why? Do you think I should warn him? You know, tell him what she’s really like?” My lips pushing into the hollow at the base of his neck, right next to the cord that holds his amulet.

He shifts, rearranging his limbs, pulling away as he says, “If he’s as gifted as you say, then he should be able to read her energy and see for himself.” He gazes at me, voice careful, measured, overly controlled in a way I’m not used to. “Besides, do we even know what she’s really like? From what you’ve described, we only know her under the influence of Stacia. She may be quite nice on her own.”

I squint, trying to imagine a nicer version of Honor, but unable to get there. “But still,” I say. “Jude has a habit of falling for all the wrong girls and—” I stop, meeting his gaze and sensing that things have taken a definite turn for the worse, though I’ve no idea why. “You know what? Never mind all that. It’s boring and stupid and not worth our time. Let’s talk about something else, okay?” I lean toward him, aiming my lips toward the edge of his jaw, anticipating the prickle and scratch of the stubble that grows there. “Let’s talk about something that has nothing to do with my job, or the twins, or your ugly new car—” Hoping he was more amused than off ended by that. “Something that doesn’t make me feel quite so—old and boring.”

“Are you saying you’re bored?” He looks at me, eyes wide, aghast.

I lift my shoulders and scrunch my face, wishing I could pretend otherwise, but also not wanting to lie. “A little.” I nod. “I mean, I’m sorry to say it, but this whole cuddling on the couch while the kids sleep upstairs—” I shake my head. “It’s one thing when you’re babysitting, but it’s a little creepy when the kids are essentially yours. I mean, I know we’re still adjusting and all—but—well—I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s starting to feel like a rut.” I peer at him, lips pressed tightly together, unsure how he’ll take that.

“You know how to get out of a rut, don’t you?” He jumps to his feet so swiftly he’s a shiny, dark blur.

I shake my head, recognizing that look in his eye from when we first met. Back when things were fun, exciting, unpredictable in every way.

“The only escape is to break free.” He laughs, grasping my hand and leading me away.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I follow him through the kitchen and out to the garage, wondering where he could possibly be taking me since a nice trip to Summerland can be had from the couch.

“What about the twins?” I whisper. “What if they wake and find we’re not here?”

Damen shrugs, leading me to his car and glancing over his shoulder as he says, “No worries, they’re sleeping soundly. Besides, I have a feeling they’ll stay that way for a while.”

“And did you have anything to do with that?” I ask, remembering the time he put the entire student body to sleep—including the administrators and teachers—and I’m still not sure how he did it.

He laughs and opens my door, motioning for me to get in. But I shake my head and stand my ground. No way am I riding in the mom mobile—the very embodiment of the rut that we’re in.