“What happens now, Sabine?” Blaze asks.
The lump returns to my throat. I have a hard time swallowing past it. Not only do I have to walk away from Blaze, but I’m almost certain Chilton won’t want anything to do with me after this. I’ll have to come up with some bullshit story to feed the agency about how we hooked up then he shied away to explain why I’m no longer cozying up to him as instructed.
“We go our separate ways.” I sound calm, the opposite of how I feel.
Blaze raises his brows. “You’re not going to try and capture me and turn me in? Or report me?”
I shake my head. “Not after what you told me. Not everything is black and white.”
“Don’t let the agency know you think that way,” Blaze warns.
I nod and start to go, stopping halfway to the door. I turn and find Blaze watching me intently. It sends electricity sizzling through my veins.
“There is one thing you can do for me,” I say, walking slowly back to him.
His eyes stay on me the whole time. “Name it.”
I snap my tank top and jeans off. Under my instructions, Blaze takes a photo of me sprawled over Chilton’s couch in my lacy underthings, flipping off the camera—a little something for my ex, I tell him.
Blaze looms over me, holding out my phone, I look past it to him, grab his arm, and pull him on top of me. He drops the phone. His lips devour without hesitation. His hands explore without apology. We kiss each other breathless. Then Blaze makes his way down my chest to my belly until he’s on the floor on his knees, slipping my panties off, leaning forward to claim. His tongue is like a tornado swirling its way to my most sensitive spot.
I was sure my heart had turned to charcoal and that a permanent shadow had replaced my soul. But Blaze Addington lights a fire in me. He coaxes me back to life and makes me explode with light.
After I leave Chilton’s apartment, my body is still warm, satiated. Blaze gave me exactly what I needed to get through this godawful day. While I’m waiting for my Lyft, I select the photo Blaze took of me in my underwear and send it to Gunnar. My lips curve into a smile. It feels like the closure I need. It feels damn good.
When I enter my apartment, Gunnar is standing in my living room, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing, face warping when he scowls.
“What happened to your hair?” he demands like I’m the one who screwed up.
“You like?” I push the ends of my hair up then let my purple locks fall back over my shoulders.
Gunnar’s glower says it all. “You look ridiculous. Real mature, Sabine. I can’t believe you fucked Chilton Addington.” He holds up his phone, screen facing me.
I grin. Tables turned, mother fo. Sucks to be on the other side, doesn’t it? My reaction makes Gunnar go supernova.
“You think this is funny?” he demands. “You could have jeopardized your mission. If the agency didn’t need you to steal Chilton’s ticket to The Monster Ball, you’d be on probation for sure.”
I plop onto my sofa and cross one leg over the other. The fact that I’m commando emboldens me. Seeing Blaze pocket my panties while his face was between my legs had been absolutely delicious. I wasn’t about to ask for them back. Let him keep a Sabine Lasalle souvenir.
“You know, I’m not really in the mood to attend a ball.” I no longer want to help the agency round Blaze up. There are rules for a reason, but what that witch did is heroic, not criminal. It’s too bad several people got hurt, but to have stood back and watched when she could have done something would have been unforgivable; I don’t care what the agency says.
Gunnar grits his teeth before tramping over to the sofa. “You’re getting that ticket, and you’re going, Agent Lasalle.”
“Ohhh, Agent Lasalle,” I mimic.
“Sabine,” he says in a warning tone.
I uncross my legs and glare up at him. “Look, I’ve had a really bad day. My cat died, and then I caught my cheating, asshole partner fucking a recruit a few hours before I was supposed to come over.”
Gunnar frowns and looks around. “Sunshine’s gone?”
“Off to kitty heaven.” I wave an arm in the air.
Gunnar’s jaw remains tight as a fist. “I’m sorry your cat died, Sabine, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior.”
“My behavior?” I jump up, ready for round two. Or is it three? Was Blaze round two? Fuck it, who’s counting? I just feel like throwing things again.
I grab Sunshine’s scratching post from against the wall and launch it at Gunnar. He barely avoids it in time. It whizzes past him, hurtling into my shelf of Funko Pop superhero collectibles. They scatter over the floor. At least they’re made of vinyl. Gunnar thinks it’s immature for a young woman in her twenties to have “toys.” Such a condescending prick. I scoop up little cat toys shaped like mice and birds and pelt them at Gunnar.
“Sabine, stop it!” he roars.
“I’m not going to the Ball.”
“Yes, you are. One way or another, you will complete your mission.”
The mission is all that matters to him. Everything in black and white. The color scheme in his apartment is literally black and white. There’s nothing warm about him. I used to think he was dark and sexy. Now, I realize how wrong we are for each other.
When the candles around my apartment blaze to life, I know I’m in trouble. Witches don’t keep them around for romantic ambiance. We use them for complex spells—serious shit. Gunnar’s the one who has lit them with his mind. It’s not a power I’ve mastered, not every candle at once, anyway. I can spark a single flame when I concentrate hard enough.
Looking around, I feel my heart plummet. He’s lit up three of my white candles and three red. I recognize the beginning of a memory wipe. Gunnar walks into my kitchen. I try to go after him, but I’m frozen on the couch by an unspoken spell. I can still move my head and mouth, but the rest of my body is locked down.
“You can’t use magic on me,” I yell.
Gunnar returns with a notepad and pen. He rips a piece of paper into three scraps and scribbles words onto each, talking to me without looking up.
“I have the authority to do whatever it takes to keep my agents in line and protect our organization’s best interests. You leave me no choice, Sabine.”
“What? You’re going to make me forget you’re a lying, cheating bastard?” I taunt. “I’m sure the agency would consider that a worthy exception.”
“Right now, I need you to focus on your mission, and you can’t do that when you’re out of control. I’m only taking away today.”
I hate him so much I feel like throwing up. He is bile in my throat. Acid in my stomach. Lightning in my mind.
He’s going to force me to forget walking in on him banging Maélie. He’ll probably go right back to boning me, too, and know to be more cautious about his affairs next time. Cue Jace Everett. It’s sickening.
“How are you going to explain Sunshine?” I demand.
“Seeing your lifeless pet hurt too much. You came to me, requesting a memory wipe so you could remember your beloved cat living rather than torment yourself with the mental image of her dead.”
“You fucking piece of shit.” I snarl at him and attempt to fight through the invisible restraints. It’s as though I’m paralyzed from the neck down. He takes the first scrap of paper to one of the candles.
“Bit by bit, memories of this day shall fade away.” The paper catches fire and burns up. He has two more to go.
I’m nowhere near as powerful as him, but tonight I’m a burning ball of cosmic rage. My temples ache. Pressure builds in my head, ready to explode. I begin chanting in a voice I hardly recognize as my own. Dark power swirls through me in black tendrils of snaking smoke. The lights go out, leaving only the candles burning.
“Sabine, stop!” Gunnar’s voice is pure panic, but I’m as unstoppable as an asteroid hurtling toward earth. I’m talking dinosaur extinction level.
Everything in my apartment made of glass bursts.
&nbs
p; There are certain spells that can magnify if interfered with or interrupted. They can also backfire, which is what I’m counting on. It could have gone either way, but in the end, it’s my memories that explode and shatter like the thin layers of glass over my framed photos—more of my memories destroyed.
Chapter Seven
One Way Or Another
I. Am. Fucking. Furious!
For a moment, I swear my rage has turned the cube from green to red.
“Your memories should have all returned now,” The Proprietor announces.
I don’t know whether to thank her or demand she release me from this psychedelic soirée early so I can ransack Gunnar’s apartment, key his car, shove rotten fish into his desk drawer, and spray-paint his head bright pink. That’s just for starters.
The cheating snake must have brought cleaners into my apartment while I was unconscious to—not only clean the place up—but remove all evidence of Sunshine. The fucker even took away my toys. I know my Funko Pop collection didn’t break in the kerfuffle.
Vindictive dickhole.
Not only did he wipe my memories, he erased my identity.
Even if I could leave the party early, I wouldn’t, though. I need to ensure Gunnar reverses the spell on me. Because of the mess up, he will have to return everything to me: Sushine’s death and his infidelity.
And Blaze.
I remain behind after The Proprietor exits the cube, collecting my thoughts, and calming myself the fuck down. My chest lifts and falls. There’s nothing I can do about Gunnar right now. I’m still, supposedly, on mission. The fuckhead tried to force me into doing his bidding against my will. Little did he know that Blaze and I had already met.
I lay back on the cushion, staring into the faint green glow. I close my eyes, imagine Blaze’s tongue inside me again then picture it’s his dick. We never got that far.
Face flushed and determined, I scoot out of the cube, and return to the party, fully aware of who I am. My powers course through my veins as though welcoming me home. I glance around. Everything looks more vivid—all of the supernaturals filled with life.
A muscular male with blond hair strides up to the cube alongside an older woman in a high-necked black dress and emerald earrings. Dark blond stubble covers a strong jaw over firmly set lips. The man looks ready to tackle anyone who gets in his way. Too bad I can’t send him to Vancouver to beat up Gunnar. Untamed as he appears, he helps the older woman into the cube before climbing in after.
Hey, if he doesn’t stray and treats her right, age shouldn’t matter. Not every male is a lying, cheating, memory-wiping asshole. Nor is Blaze the dangerous villain the agency made him out to be.
Before I find my wayward wizard, there’s something I need to do.
Downstairs, on the ground floor, I linger near the bar, waiting for an opportunity. It arrives when I overhear a petite blue-haired faerie telling Onyx to bring a flute of champagne to her companion as soon as she’s finished mixing drinks for a couple of werewolves.
Onyx glares daggers at the girl. “I don’t care if he’s king of all Faerie. I’m not a cocktail waitress.”
“I can take it over,” I offer, leaping at the chance. I practically jump onto the counter.
“Fabulous,” the blue-haired faerie chirps. She points out a male in a white-and-gold suit with long blond hair and a silver crown before sauntering off.
Onyx narrows her eyes at me suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to roofie him? He’s not the actual King of Faerie, and there are plenty of way better options here tonight.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Um, yeah. Pass. I just need a favor from someone who came from a different realm.”
Onyx finishes mixing drinks then pours champagne into a flute. She’s already taking her next drink order as I snatch the glass. Back turned to the bar, I glance around quickly then pull out the packet of tracking powder and sprinkle it into the champagne. The powder dissolves into the bubbles.
The Faerie King, or whatever he is, takes the glass without a word of thanks. I’m the one who should be thanking him.
I look up at the loft to the same spot where I first saw Blaze. He is not there, of course. His voice whispers at my back.
“Was that tracking powder meant for me?”
His breath tingles down my back. I whip around, wide-eyed. How had he seen me? How did he know? Oh right, former Agent of Night.
I shrug as he slips around me. “Gunnar won’t be able to accuse me of not doing my job. How was I to know you’d manage to slip through a portal to another realm at the end of the Ball?”
What I know is that even Agents of Night don’t have access to worlds beyond our own. Our kind sticks to its own. We don’t form alliances with other supernaturals, certainly not faeries.
“Clever,” Blaze says huskily, skimming my thigh with his fingers. “Can we dance now?”
I take his hand and pull him with me into the center of the mass. I like the color and noise, and just like our mysterious host, I feed off the energy surrounding us. Love, desire, excitement—it’s all around us, all in one place, pumping through our collective hearts with the music.
I wrap my arms around Blaze’s neck. He slides his hands down my waist. We hold on to one another like life rafts, knowing this is it. We only have tonight.
Smoke floats all around us on the dance floor and follows us to a giant fluffy beanbag bed by the wall. I pull Blaze down with me—the way I did at Chilton’s apartment. A soft wind drifts up my legs, bringing the white smoke with it like a blanket of clouds. Blaze must be manipulating the smoke with his magic—impressive when his focus is entirely on me, staring down with his gorgeous green brown eyes and perfect nose.
White smoke covers us entirely as Blaze unfastens his pants and lifts my dress over my hips. I spread my legs and arch my back as he fills me. Fiery kisses burn my lips and sizzle against my tongue. I try not to think about how soon this, too, will be a memory. Past tense. There’s no future between an agent and a fugitive.
I dig my fingers into Blaze’s back as he pulses inside me. I lift my hips to meet his. I want this to last, but the music stops. My heart almost doesn’t know how to beat without it.
“Thank you all for joining us at this year’s Monster Ball,” the female singer says into her microphone. “We hope you’ve all found love even if for a little while.” My stomach clenches, her words hitting too close to home. “Please make your way to the rooftop. Good night, Monster Nation. You’ve all been amazing.”
A haunting tune starts up as guests make their way to the stairs.
Blaze groans—half pleasure, half agony that this is it for us. He whispers a protection spell and gathers me in his arms, holding on like he doesn’t want to ever let go. Our hips keep moving, hidden in the smoke. I feel like we’re running across the clouds. Blaze is catching up, pumping harder and faster, chasing my bliss until I gasp with release. His hips jerk one last time before he empties inside me.
We smooth out our clothes as the white smoke dissipates. When Blaze pulls out my panties and tries to offer them to me, I shake my head.
“Keep them.”
We’re the last couple to the roof. The fireworks have already started. I don’t want to waste the last of our time together telling him about the past. The agency will think I completed my mission. Gunnar will have to return my memories.
For my last remaining minutes with Blaze, I put my mouth to better use and kiss him.
Epilogue
La Vie En Violet
It’s as though the stars have dropped to earth, twinkling from every tree branch and storefront in Montreal during the month of December.
My wool peacoat and scarf are draped over the back of my chair while I sip a raspberry cosmopolitan in a café with two of my new teaching colleagues.
It’s been nearly two months since the agency accepted my transfer request. Everyone believes I completed my mission of slipping Blaze the tracking powder at The Monster Ball but that he got
away through a portal. My memories were returned, no less painful the second time around. Agent Barrett already knew what Gunnar had done but believed that it deserved little more than a slap on the wrist—not even a warning or mark against him. Good ol’ wizards club, ladies and gents. I wanted to leave Canada, but the agency refused. At least Gunnar and I are on opposite coasts.
My new coworkers finish their drinks and kiss my cheeks. It’s midweek and, unlike me, they have to get up early in the morning.
“See you at school,” they say.
“Good night,” I return.
I don’t start until one the next afternoon, and I have no current missions. The Montreal division of Agents of Night wants me to settle into my new life first. They’ve had me stick with the Sabine Lasalle persona. I enjoy teaching French. Speaking another language feels like its own kind of escape, like wearing someone else’s clothes, or changing the color of your hair. Mine’s still purple. I feel like I’ve found the real me. The Sabine who lives in color and big cities. Culture and life thrums all around me, filling the gaps left in my heart.
Alone at my table, I take another sip of my cosmo, staring out at the nightlife stirring no matter what day of the week it is. Ever since The Monster Ball ruined cheap bourbon for me, I’ve traded Jimmy B for cocktails. The tasty factor is almost guaranteed.
I look toward the bar, ready to take care of my tab. That’s when I see a tanned guy in a faded jean jacket, bleached blond hair that curls at his ears, and yellow-lensed sunglasses—never mind that it is nighttime—checking me out from his stool at the bar. I fiddle with my phone, hoping he’ll stay put. He grabs his pint of light beer and ambles over.
Merde.
“G’day, miss. Mind if I join you?” he asks in a thick Australian accent.
I grimace, in no mood for male company. I’m about to tell him to get lost. As soon as I glare into his sunglasses, he lifts the shades over his head and grins. That’s when I notice the green-brown of his eyes and feel heat warming my heart.
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