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As if to emphasize his point, something in the air shifted. The back of my neck prickled and goosebumps swept over my arms. I didn’t know why, but I was suddenly aware of every breath. Every heartbeat. I turned from where I was lining bottles up to look at the cage.

A lithe figure in black leggings and a zipped hoodie was sitting with Jenny, Glen, and the others. Her features were shadowed, but I felt her gaze sweep over the empty club, lingering in our direction. For a second, it felt like she was looking right at me. I was snared.

Her midnight hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and even from a distance there was something about her delicate curves that made my chest ache. My gryphon stirred, heat building under my skin. Then she moved to the pedestal and stripped off her hoodie to reveal a lacy sports bra and toned midriff.

“God damn,” Jake muttered, but I barely heard him.

The girl stepped into the light as she entered the cage, and the earth tilted. Her face—gods, her face. High cheekbones, full lips, and electric blue eyes. Then the music swelled, and she started to move. It was like watching water, all flowing grace and effortless strength. Every movement was precise and sensual, and it sent a bolt of heat straight to my dick.

My heart pounded a frantic beat in my chest, and I gripped the edge of the bar so hard the wood creaked. The beast inside me was driving me toward her with a single-minded focus, and my knuckles went white with the effort of keeping myself in place. He’d never been so insistent.

“See what I mean?” Jake was oblivious to my struggle, just as captivated. “It’s like she’s not even human.”

My gryphon growled, and I had to fight back the urge to throttle Jake for even looking at her.

She continued to dance, her body rolling with the rhythm. Her eyes were closed, a small smile playing at her lips. She was in her own world, and I was dying to be part of it. The feeling terrified me. I’d never craved someone with such ferocity. It wasn’t lust—it was like finding something that had been lost.

The song faded, and she paused for a moment, chest heaving with exertion even though she made her routine look effortless. A single bead of sweat traced a path down her temple, and I suddenly needed to know if she tasted as sweet as she looked. She opened her eyes, and they wandered in my direction again, a little quirk to her brow.

Then Jake thumped his fist on the bar, breaking the spell. “Time for another one. Seems kind of pointless after that show.”

I managed to nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. My body was humming with a need I couldn’t explain. Something I was afraid to even contemplate. Jake gave me a strange look but said nothing as he turned to head back to the breakroom.

“Wait!” The rough whisper-shout tore out of me, my tongue feeling clumsy. “Her name. What’s her name?”

He gave me a sly grin and left me hanging until I was ready to wipe the smirk off his face. “Cordelia.”

Cordelia. Bellamy’s mystery girl.

I watched as she wrapped up her interview with a smile on her face that was a mile wide. The moment she was gone, I felt her absence like a blade between my ribs, making it hard to breathe. This was hullua. Insane. But Bellamy had been right.

He’d shared his theory with us—had to when Quinn called him out for hedging around the truth. This girl was different. Special.

I added another bottle of tequila to the top shelf with a steady hand, but my mind was racing. Already the anxiety was growing, my beast pacing restlessly with a need to find. Claim. Protect. One way or another, we couldn’t let this little bird fly away.

10

CORDELIA

I was famished after the audition. Nerves had kept me from eating breakfast, and now the dancing had spurred my appetite into overdrive. As I walked down Main Street, the early August sun warm on my dark hair, I slid the zipper on my hoodie halfway down to feel more of it on my skin. Maybe it would help soothe my temperamental magic.

I could tell it had been smugly satisfied with our performance at the club, but as soon as we left, the claws came back out. Whatever—whoever—was still inside, it made grabby hands for them while I beat a hasty retreat. Maybe Bellamy or Lucian worked there? But no, they wouldn’t have stayed hidden.

Taking a mental stock of my groceries at home, I probably had enough for a sandwich, but I really wanted to celebrate a little. And nobody made a sandwich like my new favorite cafe, Twisted Root. They had an entire wall of loose-leaf tea ingredients where you could assemble your own blend or follow the staff’s favorite recipes. And who’d have thought that a grilled cheese with thin-sliced Honeycrisp apple and a layer of bacon jam could change my life?

It was busy when I stepped through the door, the tinkle of a little bell announcing my arrival. Two o’clock on a Saturday was apparently a peak hour. I moved into the line and let my gaze wander around at the different groups of people. A young couple with a new baby. Two guys in suits sitting opposite a young interviewee. A table of girls still flushed from a hot yoga class. I pined a little, seeing what they all had that I never would.

Connection. Companionship.

I made it up to the counter and put in my sandwich order with the bubbly girl running the register. She passed me a handcrafted ceramic mug made by a local artist and a drawstring paper teabag. As I made my way over to the collection of tea ingredients, I pondered my options.

Something bold and black? Or maybe green and vibrant?

I took a deep breath, enjoying the rich aroma of dried herbs, flowers, and fruits. With a decision coming together, I propped open my little bag and moved to the end to start with a base of delicate white tea leaves. Then I added a pinch of blueberries, hibiscus flowers, pomegranate bits, and rose hips. I pulled the strings and set the bag into my mug before filling it with hot water.

They’d bring my sandwich over when it was ready, so I claimed a barstool at a counter in the window that looked out over the sidewalk. I cupped my mug between my hands and inhaled the fragrant steam, feeling content in a rare way. My magic was nearly purring, recovered from its tantrum and back to feeling satisfied. I got the sense it was biding its time.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I was starting to accept that this was my new normal. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t exactly evict my cursed power. And it didn’t really change anything, not really. I still had to follow my rules: