LOGINSkyeAlex moves us away from the couch, taking two steps to the side and pressing me against the smooth plaster wall. I breathe in his scent, closing my eyes against the sensation of his hands closing around my hips, his body flush to mine. It’s like the library but… better. We’re alone. There’re no wandering eyes, no whisper-hissed lead up to this–to this. His lips part over mine before he leans in to kiss me like this is the first time all over again. I make an involuntary sound–a moan, a noise I doubt I’ve ever made, and Alex sighs into the kiss, turning it from exploratory and measured to something wild and more passionate than anything I’ve ever experienced before. His hands travel up the curve of my waist until he clutches my ribs, his thumbs resting precariously near the slope of my breasts, which ache with an intensity I’m not prepared for in the slightest. I feel deliciously heavy. I feel… warm and out of control in a way that would normally have me spiraling, but now?He p
SkyeI sleep through the night and wake to the grainy red numbers on the clock on Alex’s bedside reading 8:43 A.M. I don’t normally sleep this late. I’m usually in my office by now, or in one of the lecture halls or research centers, but right now, I’m curled under a thick blanket that smells like Alex, resting my head on his pillow, watching the minutes tick by on his clock. When I slide out of his bed, the door to his bedroom is ajar, but not by much. I realize with a small squeak that I’m in my underwear and the sweater I wore yesterday, but in the same instant, I notice the sweatpants and sweatshirt resting on the edge of the bed, neatly folded, with a new, sticky bandage for my knee on top. So, this all really happened. It wasn’t a bad dream. I killed my great-grandfather. My beloved great-grandmother is dead. I lost my bracelet, am now a murderer, all things considered, and crash-landed in Alex’s condo when he had no idea I could spirit across an entire kingdom without so mu
Skye“Don’t move.”I suck in a sob and blink back tears. Alex crouches in front of me, his hands on my upper arms to steady me. I’m still kneeling when his apartment comes into full focus. I never gave it much thought when I woke up here in a drug-induced haze, but it’s a masculine, nearly identical layout to mine. He’s not fussy about his decor. Small knick-knacks rest on shelves, with more books than I have rocks, which is a feat, but that’s it. His scent is everywhere–clean and reassuring–familiar and… comforting. More comforting than I deserve. Strands of my hair stick to my tear-dampened cheeks. My eyes feel heavy and sore from crying. I stare at the space between us, at the shards of sharp glass reflecting the light of the aurora spilling through the windows and the soft amber haze of a floor lamp in the corner of the room, but then the glass darkens, turning inky and sticky with an oozing crimson liquid my mind doesn’t immediately comprehend. “I’m going to pick you up,” Alex
SkyeIt’s raining in Maatua. Pouring, actually. Rain pelts the familiar metal roof while I stand on the porch, my fingers curled around the handle but frozen in time. I can already feel the vacuum-like sensation of doom hanging heavy in the air when I take a deep breath and pull. The humidity dries out, turning the air warm–but it’s just as heavy–as the door closes on a phantom wind behind me. Voices speak in muffled tones in the kitchen just down the hallway in front of me. A tea kettle whines against soft voices I recognize without seeing the faces they belong to. My mom. My aunt Brie. Aviva and Cole. Lexa and Nora. Other cousins and family friends. I look up at the ceiling, where the wide, open living room bleeds into a lofted hallway, and the upstairs bedrooms are cast in rainy shadows pouring from the skylights. One door is open. “Sweetheart.”I look straight ahead and find my mom in the kitchen archway. She bunches a rag in her hands before walking out of sight and returning
Alex“The dean isn’t coming,” says Dr. Michelle Ambrose, one of my colleagues, as she twists her rings around her fingers and glances at the door of the lecture hall where we’ve all gathered under my direction. “I sent him an email an hour ago. I’ve sent him twelve emails today alone,” she continues, sniffling. “Laney was one of mine. She’s in my lecture class. She’s–” She closes her eyes, her pale, gray-blonde hair falling over her face as she bows her head. I look around the room at the eight seats filled by professors and the rows behind them filled further with the administrators from the biology department, our postdocs, student teachers, and assistants. Several graduate-level students came, but it’s the young students in the back, shrouded by shadows of confusion and grief, that tie my stomach in knots. I’ve been pacing as the department filed in, stuck in my own head, torn between thoughts of Skye and our argument, her points, which, if I’m being honest, were correct, and thi
AlexSkye doesn’t turn around. I slide my phone free from my pocket, noticing the three missed calls from Toby and the dozen other notifications from my horrified colleagues, but I ignore them, taking three steps and setting my phone on my desk. I look at Skye, taking in the way her hair shimmers in the lamplight when she turns to watch me move. Her eyes gleam like polished amethyst, swirling with power so different from mine. She’s right. I’ve been weak. I’ve kept myself weak. I’ve kept her at arm’s length even though everything I want is right in front of me, and for the first time in my life, I considered risking someone’s safety to have something for myself. “I haven’t been honest with you.”“I know,” she snarls–trying to look furious. But tears shine along her lower lashes. “I understand this is confusing. It is for me, too. And I hate that you feel like I’m gaslighting you about how I feel, but I’m looking at this through the lens of… I want you. I like you. I respect you, a
*Maddy* The ballroom is totally transformed from floor to ceiling. The finest flowers in the kingdom stand in large, marble vases resting on tables covered in light blue tableclothes. Champagne flows, poured into crystal flutes, and graceful string music fills the air, rising above the chatter. I w
*Maddy*Cassian looks like absolute hell. His legs are stretched out on the couch in the informal den on the third floor, a place with a high-tech stereo and several bookcases stacked with magazines and board games. It’s normally a happy, relaxing place, but his presence sucks the very life out of th
*Isaac*Fogs wraps around the outer walls of the castle’s estate, my home, the home of my family, and now my wife. Despite early summer coming into full bloom, the air is chilled. Either that, or it’s just my skin prickling with icy heartbreak as I stand at the gate and look back at the front porch,
*Maddy*“Maddy!” The voice comes again, louder than the first time. I rise to my feet, my legs tingling from lack of use. The fire in the cave shudders out on a phantom wind. I bristle against the sudden chill, my hands trembling as I feel along the cave wall toward the entrance. It’s nearly pitch bl







