Dark Summer (Book I, Witchling Series)

Chapter Ten

Decker had never felt like more of a dick than he did standing there, knowing how upset she was. He'd suspected Dawn or someone else was playing a joke. At first, he felt vindicated seeing Summer cry. He was angry at everything, even her, the victim of a horrible joke.

And then he thought of his sweet Summer in pain and was crushed by the idea he was partially responsible for causing it. She looked beautiful, glowing like a flower among rocks. Her tears glimmered in the starlight. He should leave her, walk into the jaws of hell alone, and spare them both what pain might come.

He couldn't. Right now, she stood before him, offering herself, if he'd take her. Her touch was the only thing that could calm him. He wanted ... needed to feel her.

"I want more than one dance, Summer," he said in a hushed voice. "I can't explain it."

Her breath caught. She looked up at him. His words hung in the air between them. He held out his hand. Summer looked at it then at him.

"You want to dance here?" she asked, taking it. "There's no music."

Decker swept her into his arms. "We don't need music."

They didn't. Her touch made him shudder, and their bodies synced as they did every time they danced. The music originated from their entwined souls. The blue flames of his magick traveled over her at each point where their bodies touched. Like a switch turning off, the chaos in his mind disappeared. His body relaxed, and he sensed her body yield as well.

"You're not talking about dancing," she said.

"No, I'm not," he replied, heart quickening. He was lost in her dark gaze and soft scent, both girly and earthy. "I'm talking about this, whatever this is. I wasn't sure you felt it."

"I do. I just ... I'm afraid of what it means."

"You'll fear it more when I tell you what I am."

She tensed, but didn't look away or try to move away. Pressed together, their bodies kept the innate rhythm.

"What?" she asked at last.

Decker drew a breath. Fear trickled through him at the thought of her rejection. He couldn't live with himself if she walked away. He couldn't live with himself if he tricked her into being with him, and she found out in two weeks what that really meant. She'd hate him.

"Decker, what?"

"When Beck and I turn eighteen, he becomes the Master of Light, and I become the Master of ..."

She stumbled and stopped in place, staring up at him. Her breathing grew fast and erratic, the pulse in her wrist beating like a machine gun against his hand.

"Fire and Night," she finished in a voice almost too quiet to hear.

He nodded, throat tightening.

Her gaze went to the blue fire traveling up and down her arms. Decker looked at it as well, unable to stop the creep of his magick into her body. It acted as if they were one body, not two, and wouldn't stay inside him. She said nothing. Decker shifted away and released her, expecting the rejection to follow. The effect she had on him faded without disappearing completely.

"I'm sorry, Summer," he whispered. "I understand."

He turned to walk away. The chaos and fury returned to his head. He walked a few steps and was about to run for the darkness of the forest when her cool hand touched his arm. Decker stopped without turning.

"I think you were trying to ask me if I wanted to be with you, even if you are so Dark," she said, her voice sounding breathless. "You didn't let me answer, Decker."