When we settled in near the flames, someone brought cups by. Vincent and I declined. When Jessie took one, we both reached to snatch it from her, simultaneously chanting, “Never drink the punch.” 

            She relinquished it to Vincent, who gingerly tossed it in a trash, as if it contained poison. Probably not an unfair comparison. 

            Hunter took a long drink from his cup, looking me defiantly in the eyes. I put one hand on his chest, trying to reassure him. His energy thrummed under the fabric, hot and angry. “We need to talk, but I need a minute okay?” 

            “Take whatever time you need. It’s none of my business.” He pulled away from me and stormed off to the far end of the overpass. At that distance he was far enough from the fires to be mostly covered in darkness. I watched as he sat down on a piece of cement, continuing to drink out of his cup.

            I shook my head and turned back to Vincent, who already had a small horde of girls around him. He had his arm around Jessie and was showing her something on his phone. 

            “You can do so much better than that,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the display.

            “You have any actual ideas, or just criticism?” he asked. 

            “I have plenty of ideas. I’m going to be an influencer, so I keep up. How about something like this?” She pulled her own phone up to share. 

            Vincent looked up at me and winked. Then jerked his head toward Hunter. I was pretty sure Vincent was good enough at social engineering that he was working Jessie and the crowd. But just in case, I mouthed “minor” at him. 

            He laughed and widened his eyes playfully as he mouthed, “Obviously,” back at me.

            I left him to do his magic and walked over to where Hunter sat. He was slouched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, intentionally looking away. I stopped to stand in front of him. When I stood unmoving for a few minutes, he finally rolled his eyes up to look at me. Looking down at him, with all the sadness and frustration coming off him, I wanted to cup his cheek in my hand. The urge was strong enough I had to cross my arms to stop myself. 

            “You really going to do the broody stereotype thing?” I asked.

            He snorted. “Not worried about leaving your ‘friend’ with Jessie?” 

            “One Jessie is no match for him,” I countered. 

            Hunter made a noncommittal “hmm” sound. Then finished off whatever was in his cup as he watched Vincent.  

            “Hey.” I tapped his feet with my shoe, forcing them apart and took a step forward to stand between his knees. This close I was blocking his view of the group gathering behind us. He tossed his empty cup to the side and peered up at me, no smile or usual flirtation on his face.

            “Vincent isn’t here as my date,” I clarified again. “He’s not interested in me like that at all, and the feeling is mutual.” I don’t know why I cared so much that he knew that. It would have been easier to push him away if I hid behind his belief that there was something between Vincent and me. It just felt more hurtful somehow.

            He tilted his head to one side and regarded me for a moment, then dropped his gaze to my shirt. Both his hands free now, he played with the hem. “This is nice.” 

            “Thanks,” I said, watching him run his hands along the fabric. “Katie helped me pick it out yesterday.” 

            A glint had returned to his eyes as he looked back up at my face. “Did you buy this just to wear it for me?”
            I rolled my eyes and gave him an exasperated look, even though I was glad he was letting go of his mood. “The world does not revolve around you.”

            One corner of his mouth tucked into a smirk. “You’ve made that clear,” he paused, then added, “I’m glad I get to see you tonight. But why is Vincent here?”

            “He’s the one who thinks girls are going missing.” I pulled my phone out and showed him the album of photos I’d snagged from Vincent. “Speaking of, can you look at these, please?” 

            Taking it from me, he leaned back on one hand, flicking through the images. I stood enjoying the view of his shoulders. This far away from light he was all sharp angles, most of him shaded by my silhouette. We were far enough away from everyone that it was almost intimate. Standing here, it would be so easy to just reach out and touch him, but I had spent two days trying to find a way to back out of this predicament. My thoughts were not taking me in the right direction for that. 

            “I don’t know most of these girls, but these two are Emily and Megan.” He turned my phone back to me and identified which pictures he was referring to. 

            “Are you sure?” I asked, astonished that Vincent had been right.

            He nodded. “They were at every party this past spring. When they stopped showing up, I assumed it was because they went home for the summer.”

            I took my phone back. “I need to tell Vincent.” As I started to pull away, Hunter sat back up, putting both hands on my hips to keep me from leaving.

            “That’s it, you’re just going to run off again?” his voice was soft as he looked up into my face, searching for my response.

            My shoulders fell at the sadness in his question. I put my phone in my pocket. “Hunter, I’m really sorry about the other night.” I hesitated, trying to find the words to explain why I ran out on him. 

            “Don’t be, I’m the one who should be apologizing. You keep setting boundaries and I’m constantly pushing them.” He was back to inspecting my shirt, avoiding my eyes.

            “It isn’t that,” I said. I brushed my fingers through his hair to get his attention. His curls were thick and silky to the touch, the feel causing me to dig my hand into them. Instead of looking up, he closed his eyes and leaned his head into my palm. I snatched it back at the first spark passing between us. 

            “Why did you stop?” he asked, eyes still closed. 

            “I can’t explain why this isn’t going to work, but it isn’t,” I said, balling my fist up at my side. My skin still prickled from the momentary contact, and the urge to touch him was worse now that I’d tempted myself with it. 

             Maybe suspecting I was going to try to leave again, he moved his hands down to the bare skin on my legs, his fingers wrapping around to the back of my thighs. The minute he did, that hot rush climbed up my legs and into my chest. My breath was ragged from the feel of him pouring into my skin. Like a fire burning through my body, I had to reach out for his shoulders to steady myself. 

            “Is this why?” he asked, looking up at me again. I watched him move his hands down my skin, pressing his palms against me very purposefully. He knew exactly what he was doing and was intentionally pushing as much energy into me as possible with each motion.

            “What are you doing?” I breathed. 

            “Sharing.”

            I tried to push one of his hands away, which just put more of me in contact with his skin. “You need to stop.” My voice was starting to hold an edge of panic. 

            “You aren’t hurting me, Sen.”

            “How?” I was struggling to form my question when he pulled himself into a standing position. The movement was so swift, I had to grab a handful of his shirt to keep from falling. He wrapped his arm around my waist to help me stay upright, then took my wrist into his other hand. For a moment I didn’t feel anything. I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath. Then I felt the pull on my skin. There was a tugging sensation where he held my arm. An electric current moving out of me, curling inside Hunter. I let out a gasp and looked up at him. 

            “See? You can’t hurt me.”

            “What are you?” I asked, staring at him in disbelief.

            He brought his face down to whisper in my ear, “Nephilim. Same as you.”