“We just left the airport. We’re only about an hour out.”

The airport? How did she get everyone on a plane on such short notice? They must have started making plans as soon as Grandfather spilled the beans yesterday.

Also, Mom is starting to remind me of Rachel.

“Listen, sweetie, are you alone?”

“Yes. Why?”

“It’s important that you don’t tell anyone we’re coming.”

“They know I’m calling you right now. They’re expecting you.”

Mom huffs into the phone. “It never occurred to you that you could be in danger, Emma? That these people could be lying to you?”

“What part of ‘Grandfather sent me here’ don’t you understand?”

“He’s over two hundred years old, Emma. And so is his brain. Use your common sense!”

If the phone had guts, I would have squeezed them out by now. I loosen my grip and try to control my voice. “And if I am in danger? Then what are you going to do? This is an entire town, Mom. You’re outnumbered.”

Mom laughs softly into the phone. I recognize it immediately. It’s the “Try me” laugh. “We’ll simply have to do a hostage exchange.”

“Hostage exchange?” I whisper-yell. “You’ve taken a hostage?”

“Not yet. But with an entire town, like you said, one shouldn’t be too hard to come by.”

“Ohmysweetgoodness this is not happening.” What a great ambassador I am. My family now thinks I’m imprisoned and are planning a hostage exchange. Awesome.

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’re going to be on the outskirts of town. We’ll get you out of there as soon as we can.”

“I don’t want to be out of here,” I say through clenched teeth.

“We’ll talk about this later. Keep in touch. Remember, don’t tell anyone anything.”

And then she hangs up.

34

HOW MANY kisses were there? Have I lost Emma entirely? Did I throw away everything I ever wanted with one disagreement?

The questions contend for the forefront of his mind.

How could she do this? But he knows that’s not fair of him. After all, he left on bad terms and never came back. Who knows what she could be thinking? Who knows what she’s been through without him? And if Reed was there to comfort her, then of course she would grow close to him.

And is that so horrible? Reed is just like her. He’s a Half-Breed. He has the Gift of Poseidon. He has a normal “human” life. Everything Emma wants, all wrapped up in pale muscular packaging.

If I really loved her, wouldn’t I want her to be happy?

He grits his teeth. Yes, I do want her to be happy—I want her to be happy with me. And no pasty pile of bones is going to get in the way of that.

“Galen, you have to talk to me. We’re getting out of here, remember?” says the pasty pile of bones.

Galen slowly turns his attention away from the chains above him and assesses Reed with a cold look. “When we get out of here, I’m going to knock every one of your teeth out, then do a recount to make sure I’ve gotten them all.”

“I understand that you’re mad.”

“Mad?” Murderous would be more accurate. The thought of Reed’s lips on Emma’s sends lava through Galen’s veins. It reminds him of the time Toraf kissed Emma to make him jealous. Only this is much worse. That was before he and Emma were together, before he’d tasted her for the first time. Now she is going to be his mate.

Reed knew that, yet still disrespected that very important boundary.

And now I am going to disrespect his face.

“You know what I would be worried about if I were you?” Reed says pleasantly.

Galen decides Reed doesn’t seem to value his tongue. “Stop talking.”

“It’s just that you’re not asking the most important question here. It’s something I would want to know. If I were you.”

A growl erupts from deep within Galen. His curiosity is piqued and Reed knows it. Morbid as it sounds, he wants the details, to know exactly what happened. How did it happen? Where were they? How did Emma react?

And then again, he doesn’t want to know any of it. The images in his head will never go away as it is. It’s a soft sort of rot, the idea of them kissing. A rot that will always hide in the confines of his organized heart, like an underlying illness or a scar. “You said that already.”

Reed kicks out in futile frustration. “Galen, stop being an idiot. Oh, yes, I’m talking to you. What I’m trying to tell you is, she didn’t kiss me back.”

“Of course, she didn’t.” He says it with all the air of a Triton Royal, but deep down, relief swirls through Galen. Emma rejected Reed. Even after our fight and all the things I said. The realization has a calming effect, cooling the lava running through his veins, slowing the pulse in his temple threatening to burst through his thick skin.

Even his teeth remember to ungrind.

“Well, you don’t have to say it like that.”

“I trust Emma.”

“Yeah, I get that. But I mean if you think about it, I would be considered a good catch.”

“Be serious.”

Reed leans his head back against the wall. “Do you know she actually apologized to me for choosing you?”

“I would have rather she dislocated your nose.” Still, Galen acknowledges the significance here. She didn’t just reject Reed—she chose Galen. Out loud. Even when he disappeared for three days without calling.