Tod’s jaw clenched, but his attention never left me. “I can’t stop whatever’s going to happen on Thursday, Kaylee. More than anything in the world, I wish I could.” I nodded, sniffling. “But Levi said if I can get proof that Thane’s been reaping off the record, he’ll take it to his boss, and at the very least, we can get him removed from your case and held for review. And that should protect your dad. No promises…” The reaper glanced pointedly at his brother, then met my tear-blurred gaze again. “But I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.” I wiped away more tears, trying to balance overwhelming fear and frustration with the bone of hope he’d just tossed me.

“How do you know all this already?” Nash’s gaze narrowed on his brother when the reaper finally stood and stepped back. “You popped in here like you had urgent news, but if it was so urgent in the first place, how did you and Levi have time to work this out?”

I glanced at Nash, surprised by his anger. “He’s just trying to help,” I insisted, sliding my hand into his.

“Don’t you think his timing is a little convenient?”

Tod actually laughed. “Little brother, the last thing I was trying to be was convenient.”

Something silent passed between them. Some kind of unspoken challenge that made my stomach pitch. “What am I missing?” They’d never been best friends, but I’d rarely seen them openly hostile.

Nash never even glanced at me. “You’ve delivered your news. Now go deliver some pizza.”

I glanced at him in surprise. “What’s wrong with you?”

But when Nash didn’t answer, Tod did, his eyes darker than usual, but still steady. “He wants to pick up where the two of you left off.”

I could feel myself flush, and Nash’s hand tightened around mine. But he was watching his brother again. “Do you have a problem with that, Tod?”

That sick feeling in my stomach grew stronger, and I looked up to find the reaper watching me, like he was waiting for some kind of signal. And when I didn’t give him one—when I couldn’t even fully understand the words they were saying, much less the ones they weren’t—he exhaled heavily, holding my gaze. “Not if that’s what she wants. At least this time she’s actually in there and able to speak for herself.” He tapped his head to illustrate his point, and I struggled to breathe through a complicated mix of embarrassment and squirming discomfort.

I didn’t like the reminder that he knew what had happened. What Nash had let happen when he was high. I didn’t want to think about it, and I didn’t want to know that anyone else ever thought about it.

Nash went stiff at my side, and I could practically feel his temper rolling off him in waves. “Get.Out.”

Tod watched me for another second, while I tried desperately to calm the storm of confusion battering my heart from all sides. Then he disappeared.

“I can’t believe he said that to you.” Nash pulled me up by the hand he still held, and I let him tug me toward the living room.

“He was talking to you,” I said softly, as I sank onto the couch next to him, and Nash went very, very still.

It was the thing we didn’t talk about. It had happened, more than once, and it had broken us up for a while, but he felt horrible about it, and the whole thing was behind us now. And I was fine as long as I didn’t think about it. About what was said and seen and done while I wasn’t in control of my own body.

Nash looked straight into my eyes with an intensity and sincerity that made me catch my breath. “It’s never going to happen again. Not even if you lived to be a thousand. You know that, right?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” I said at last. Wasn’t that proof enough that I was trying to move past it?

But I couldn’t get Tod’s expression out of my head. There’d been just a flash of motion in his irises—a swirl of blue too quick to interpret.

I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. Tried to get back to the place Nash and I had been an hour before, alone, in my room, where thoughts didn’t matter—it was all about feeling. But when I met Nash’s gaze, I knew the moment was over. He was still mad at Tod, and hurt by the reminder of things we’d put behind us. And maybe I was, too.

“He did this on purpose.” Nash let his head fall against the back of the couch. “He dredged up old problems to start new trouble.” And this time I couldn’t argue.

As it turns out, there’s no greater impediment to la petite mort—the little death—than a visit from the real thing.

7

I blinked in the dark, confusion covering me like a blanket over my head. Why was I awake? Then Styx growled, and I realized two things at once: I was in my room, and I wasn’t alone.

I sat up, heart pounding, pulse whooshing in my ears. Light from the hall painted a strip of color over one corner of my desk and the end of my bed, while the rest of the room stood shrouded in shadow. Styx lay near my footboard, curled up like she was still asleep, except for her raised head, shining black eyes, and sharp teeth, exposed as she growled in warning.

Avari. Harmony had said Styx would wake up if a hellion came anywhere near me, even from the other side of the world barrier, and though I’d managed to piss off two other hellions—Belphagore and Invidia—in the six months since I’d learned I was a bean sidhe, Avari would always be my default guess. My go-to bad guy, a title awarded on the basis of persistence alone.