“I beg to differ.”
I retract a step. “Excuse me?”
“We are friends.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Then how did I know to call you Savvy?”
“I—” My head shakes once. “I must have told you.”
“Not that I recall.” He grins like he knows a secret.
“You expect me to believe that we’ve met before?” I laugh—one bitter, cold, and unamused laugh—and retreat another step. “Right.”
“It was more than just a brief, random meeting, Sav. We were close, once. In fact, I invented the nickname you’re so upset about me using.” He closes some of the distance between us, and his eyes flash in a way that is definitely more dangerous than charming. “It’s mine.”
I freeze. “It’s yours?”
His eyes grow darker. He advances closer, and his voice drops to a gravelly tone that rattles me on the inside. “I don’t like to share what is mine.”
“Wait a minute.” I hold a hand up to stop him from coming any closer. “Just so we’re clear, you wish to enforce trademark on my nickname for your use only?” I pause to swallow. “You’re not saying that I am yours, are you?”
He straightens, and the dangerous predator vibe he had going on vanishes the moment the lopsided grin reclaims its position on his lips. “Of course not. But we are friends, Savvy.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
“No. Stop saying that.”
He extends a hand to me. “Allow me to remind you.”
There is something in his palm—a shiny white object attached to a silver chain. It resembles a big animal tooth, but that’s too weird to be correct.
I look from it to him, into the eyes that I feel a familiar tug to, even if I don’t know how or why. He wants to remind me of something I have obviously forgotten. For reasons I don’t understand right now, I want to remember.
My gaze meets his in a silent acceptance of his challenge, and I pinch the chain between my fingers to take it from him. The sparkling lights from above glint off the pointy tip of the object which I can now clearly see is a fang, and a memory jars loose.
With sudden clarity, I realize that I have held this necklace in my palm before. Just as I have gazed into his mesmerizing eyes on a night I should have never forgotten.
I look up quickly to find a sexy smirk on his lips—lips I have kissed.
“It’s about time you remember me, Princess.”
Chapter Six
Music poured from the cabin—or so the mansion in the woods was called—from over my shoulder. The lights that lit the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows spilled outside, touching the strip of sand that bordered one bank of the lake. The moon sparkled off the calm surface of the water, showing anyone lucky enough to be permitted a glimpse of it why it was named Silver Lake.
My toes sank into the soft ground, warmed by three months of a long and sunny summer, as I walked along the edge just out of reach of the water lapping at the shore to my left. I focused on the pleasant sounds coming from the lake and tried to ignore the boisterous laughter and sounds of drunkenness coming from the house. I inwardly cringed at the thought of my dad being the source of any of it, likely in the form of an awkward and somewhat inappropriate ill-timed joke.
I didn’t understand why he insisted on attending the Caspans’ end-of-summer blowout. He wasn’t like them, or the Caspans’ many friends that descended on the tranquil lake one weekend out of the year.
Nor was I. I was here for one reason only.
His name was Luca Caspan. He was tall and handsome, and his glacier blue eyes were what sweet dreams were made of. For nine years, I had known him as the eldest son of my mother’s most trusted friends. The Caspans were the reason Dad and I moved to Castien Valley after her death. Dad had the support he thought he needed, and I had all the prerequisites for a doomed crush.
For years, I admired the older boy with an ornery grin, perfect tan, and candid personality, and watched him grow into a confident man. I stood in the wings as he dated girls that were not good enough for him, and waited for the chance I was sure would never come.
It came this summer when Luca finally saw me as more than the daughter of his parents’ long-dead friend. Now that it was nearly over, and I was staring down the barrel at four long months before the Caspans returned for their annual Christmas vacation, I felt a sadness I never knew was possible over the loss of someone other than my mother.
I swatted at the lone tear trickling down my cheek with a scoff. “Get a grip, Sav.”
It wasn’t like he was dying. He would be back. He wasn’t even gone yet, and I had big plans for tonight. Knowing that Luca was waiting for me not far away, I picked up the pace. That was when the unexpected happened.
I stepped on something sharp—cut the bottom of your foot wide open and bleed to death, effectively ruining the white sandy beach, kind of sharp. I cried out, grabbed my foot, and toppled over like a chopped down tree. I blinked back the surge of tears that invaded my eyes against my will.
Luca appeared between blinks, his face etched in concern as he dropped to his knees in the sand beside me. His hands found my shoulders, and his fingers gripped me tight. “Savvy, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“I’m an idiot, that’s what.” I groaned, earning a lopsided grin from him. “I stepped on something, and my blood is ruining your beach.”
He let go of my shoulders and took my injured foot into his hands. I watched his face as he brushed away the sand and inspected the gaping wound. We were surrounded by shadows, but I clearly saw his concerned frown turn into a smirk. His eyes lifted to mine with a sigh. “Always so dramatic, Sav.”
“What?”
“It’s a scratch.” He dropped my foot to the ground with a thud. “Barely a drop of blood.”
“No, it can’t be. Let me see.” I narrowed my eyes, willing them to see the deep and gory wound I was positive was there. Of course, he was right. “Scratch” was actually a generous description of the damage done to the bottom of my foot. “It felt a lot worse.”
Luca grunted something unintelligible as he sifted through the sand.
“It did,” I whined.
He glanced up with a smile. “I’ve already convinced myself that you wanted to be rescued by your knight in shining armor. I like that idea better.”
“Whatever.” I rolled onto my back to lie in the sand. The stars twinkled above me, competing with the moon for my attention. Somewhere near my feet, Luca continued to quietly look for something. “The summer is over now so . . . whatever.”
Luca glanced up. “Sav . . .”
“Don’t. I know.”
“Do you really? Or do you just think you know?”
“What else is there to think about? You’re leaving.” I sighed. “It doesn’t get more definitive than that.”
His head angled away, and his chin dipped down. He swept a hand over the sand beneath the bridge that my bent knees created. After a moment, he said, “It’s not forever. I’m coming back.”
“I guess.”
He glanced up again. “You don’t sound too happy about that.”
“I am happy.” I sighed. “I’m also a realist.”
“You should try optimism,” he suggested with a low chuckle.
“Why? So I can be crushed when you come back at Christmas with your new college girlfriend to meet the family and friends?”
“Jesus, Sav.” Luca rubbed a hand over his face. “What makes you think I would have the energy to go through this again with someone else?”
“She probably wouldn’t be as difficult,” I pointed out in a moment of absolute honesty.
“That’s the most accurate thing you’ve said so far this evening.” He stared down at me with a faint smile. “No one can match you, Sav. You are definitely one of a kind, in every way, both annoying as hell and endearing. I happen to think there are many more endearing qualities yet to be uncovered, and
I plan to spend a considerable amount of time doing that. This summer was just the start. So enough of this talk.”
I rolled my eyes. Because I’m fifteen, and it seemed like the only reasonable reaction when your sort-of boyfriend for the summer said a bunch of sweet stuff that you didn’t know how to respond to. I could only hope that nothing changed in the coming months, but we were young. Anything could happen. I knew that, but I refused to spend our final few blissful moments of this life-changing summer laying on the ground, worrying about it.
I pushed up onto my elbows to watch him dig in the sand. “What are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“For what?”
“This.” He lifted a small object off the ground with a wink in my direction. “I’ve been looking for this all day.”
“Is that . . .”
“My necklace? Yeah.”
“Your ridiculous megalodon tooth? That’s what cut my foot open?”
“Scratched,” he corrected. “And how many times do I have to tell you? A megalodon tooth would be five times this size. This is a—”
“Wolf fang,” I cut him off with a bored sigh. “So I’ve heard. That doesn’t mean I believe you.”
He slipped the necklace around his neck with a familiar groan. “Why is it so hard for you to believe?”
“Because a wolf with a fang that size would have to be . . .”
He stared at me, waiting. “Go on.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It would be huge. Not biologically possible.”
“Because you know so much about the biology of wolves?” He carefully tucked the sharp fang hanging from the chain under his shirt, and his eyes lifted to meet mine. “I bet I know more than you.”
I snorted. “Because you carry a wolf tooth around your neck?”
“Not exactly.” He leaned down, and his sudden closeness destroyed the pathways in my brain. Random and incomplete thoughts fired off in all sorts of directions, none of them able to fully develop. All I noticed in that moment was the intensity behind his dark pupils, and the contrast they created against the light-blue rims. “Someday you will learn.”
My throat was suddenly dry, forcing me to swallow hard. “Oh? Is wolf biology on the tenth grade science curriculum?”
Luca had grown to tolerate my sarcastic tongue, and he batted it away easily now. “Did you look?”
“For what?” I asked breathlessly, barely paying attention. It was impractical for him to expect me to with his lips hovering mere inches from mine.
“Sav.” He gave me the look. I had spent the summer arguing with myself whether that look made me want to smack him or kiss him. This time was no different.
“You want to talk about that now?” I huffed.
“No, but the summer is nearly over and you’ve spent the entire time avoiding it.”
“I thought I spent it kissing you.”
“That too.” His gaze dropped to my lips. “But you should still look.”
“I will. I don’t want to, but I also don’t want to spend Christmas break arguing with you over the existence of a necklace that my mother may or may not have had of a—”
“Do not say megalodon tooth,” Luca cut me off.
“It’s not going to be there,” I told him with a sigh.
“I think it might be.” He inched closer. His warm breath fanned my cheek.
“What’s the big deal anyway?” I gasped as his lips skimmed the side of my neck. “What does it matter if my mother had a necklace like yours?”
He lifted one hand to his chest where the fang was hidden under his shirt. “Because my father gave me his, and you should have hers.”
“Assuming she ever had one,” I pointed out.
“She did, and so will you.” He pressed his hand into the sand near my head to brace himself over me, and one of his legs slipped between the two of mine. He hovered there, looking and admiring, and my stomach somersaulted.
I forgot all about the crazy necklace that I may or may not find in my mother’s personal belongings—boxes that have sat untouched in the attic of dad’s house for nine years. I forgot all about the talk about her and Luca’s parents, and how they were friends long before either Luca or I were born. I forgot the story behind the necklaces, and why they were so important to Luca.
I lost myself in his eyes, and then his lips. We lost ourselves in each other.
When the Caspans didn’t return for Christmas, or the next summer, I simply found myself lost. And when I finally found the stupid necklace with the stupid special fang dangling from the chain under a pile of my mother’s clothes, I chucked it into Silver Lake.
If Luca wanted it so bad, he could have it. When, or if, he ever came back.
Chapter Seven
I blink at the now-grown yet undeniably familiar face belonging to the boy I may have once loved but barely remember. “Luca?”
He steps closer with a nod, a lopsided grin not far behind. “I’m glad your memories—”
My arm shoots out, aligning my open palm with his cheek for a hard and surprisingly loud smack. My fingers graze the stubble lining his jaw, and I jerk my hand back before they get too comfortable touching him.
Other than a shift of his eyes, he doesn’t flinch. He stares above my head, fixating on someone or something behind me, and a muscle in his jaw pops. “I know you think I deserve that, but—”
“You do.”
“Sav, listen to me.” His eyes lower to mine, and the hard lines that border them soften a fraction. “It’s me, but things are a little different than the last time you saw me.”
“Two years.” I snort. “I got nothing—no phone call, no letter, no explanation at all—for over two years, Luca. I thought . . .”
“What?” He inches closer.
His fingertips graze my hip, and I wish I wasn’t affected by his touch. I wish I didn’t look at his lips and instantly remember how they feel against mine. I stare blankly at him, suddenly incapable of thought. How could I have forgotten him so easily when I clearly remember everything about him now? Sure, it felt like an eternity, but two years isn’t that long.
His lips quirk. “You thought what, Sav?”
All the heartache I endured over him rushes to the forefront in a wave of anger. “You disappeared. Your whole family . . . you were all gone. My dad and . . . we didn’t know where you were from. We had no phone number or address or anything. I thought something bad had happened. I thought maybe you were . . .”
“Dead?” He has the nerve to smirk. “Not likely.”
The grasp on what little restraint I have left snaps. My hands fly around animatedly, and my voice rises to a piercing level. “How was I supposed to know when you never bothered to contact me? How was I supposed to know what happened to you? You said you would come back. You lied! And then I . . . forgot. I forgot everything. How does that happen?”
“Easy, Sav.” His eyes dart above me, fixating on someone or something, and he gives a sharp shake of his head. “You need to—”
“I don’t need to do shit. Not now. Not after two years of nothing from you. And who are you looking at?” I spin around but see nothing but a ballroom stuffed to capacity.
“People who make sure I don’t end up dead,” he whispers into my ear from behind me, sending a bolt of warm electricity down the length of my spine. My toes curl as if on command. “You have them a little concerned. I forgot to explain that you tend to talk with your hands when you get upset.”
I whip around. “I’m not upset. I’m furious.”
The bastard has the nerve to grin. “I can see that. You always were a pistol, Savvy. I see that hasn’t changed.”
“Stop calling me that,” I repeat, more firmly this time.
“My nickname,” he reminds me.
“Not anymore.”
Abandoning all hope that I will make it out of here without being stopped again, I turn my back on Luca Caspan and march to the nearest bar. I slide onto an open seat, and mak
e eye contact with the ruggedly handsome bartender I met earlier.
“Dec, right?” I say when he approaches.
He nods once, but his eyes aren’t on me. He’s watching someone behind me, and I don’t have a doubt that it’s Luca. The jerk abandoned me for two years, and now I can’t get away from him. How ironic.
“I need something good. Strong,” I tell Dec.
His intense gaze swings to me. “How about my specialty?”
“That would be great.”
“Coming right up, Princess.”
My arms fall to the bar top with a thwunk. “Why do I get the impression that I’m the subject of some inside joke everyone is in on but me?”
His lips twitch as he mixes pineapple juice and rum into a glass. “Believe me, it’s no joke.”
“You see, that”—I jab an accusatory finger at his poorly concealed smirk—“that right there is what I’m talking about. You know something. Everyone seems to know something. Guess who doesn’t know anything about what’s going on here? Me, that’s who.”
Dec seems to be avoiding me as he sprinkles a layer of cinnamon on top of the mixed drink he’s created. I’m temporarily distracted because it looks good. It looks like the kind of drink that will get me sufficiently drunk, which is exactly what I need right now. Not only am I at a Halloween party surrounded by strangers who really get into playing the supernatural creatures they’re supposed to be, but I’m starting to think that they may actually be those things.
That has to make me certifiably crazy. Throw in the scandalous scene I witnessed in the back seat of my ex-boyfriend’s car earlier tonight, and the unexpected appearance of another ex who vanished on me years ago, and I am convinced that getting drunk is the only safe way to get through the rest of this night. I’m scared to find out what’s going to happen next.
My lips part to ask Dec a question. He opens his mouth to light the delicious-looking pineapple chunks garnishing my drink on fire, and I forget what I was going to say. I made excuses for what I saw earlier. I convinced myself that it was an illusion, some party trick to earn him better tips, and that there was no practical way he can roast pineapples without some hidden gadget. Up close, I see the truth, as unbelievable as it is.
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