Page 69

"I miss the version of you who irritated me professionally." I cleared my throat. "The arrogant bastard who walked into my coven two years ago and told my grandmother she was a fool in front of the entire delegation. I need that one back, thanks so much."

River considered me for a moment. "You threatened to set him on fire, if I remember correctly."

"He deserved it."

"Because he was flirting with you."

I stared at him. Of all the things I'd expected him to say, that one wasn't even in the top two thousand. "You were not flirting with me."

His eyebrows rose. "Hazel, I assure you, I was."

"Well, you were terrible at it." My pointer finger came up. "We found something you are not good at. How about them apples."

"Terrible, and yet here we are." He moved closer again, and this time I knew exactly what he was doing, which did not make it easier. My body became acutely aware of every inch of space disappearing between us. "I think perhaps I should be less subtle this time."

"This is you being subtle?"

"No." His mouth curved. "This is me being inquisitive."

My heart slammed once against my ribs, hard. Oh, fuck him. Oh no. No, no, no. Stop thinking about fucking Blackman, Hazel.

"You're enjoying this entirely too much," I accused.

"A little." His hand came up, and for one breathless second I thought he was going to touch my face. Instead his fingers caught a loose strand of my hair near my shoulder and moved it aside. The touch barely existed but my entire body came alive because of it.

Possessive wasn't quite the word for the look he gave me afterward. It was more certain than that. As though River had never needed to claim space beside me because somewhere along the way he'd simply begun believing it belonged to him.

The thought should have annoyed me. It did. Just not enough.

Then I remembered we had a sanctioned witch, an unknown supernatural claim, a grandmother nine days away from losing her soul, and a ferryman who enjoyed making my life difficult. Reality had spectacular timing.

"You can hate yourself in the truck like a normal person," I told him, turning back to the washing machine. "I've got four hours of daylight left and an appointment with Charon."

The teasing left his expression, but this time he stayed with me. "One good thing is that Charon can't lie to you."

"No, but he is a master of evasion. I gave him that advantage once. I'm not doing it again." I opened the washer and started pulling out wet clothes, the cold denim heavy against my arms. "I've got until Lake Erie to figure out what I need to ask him. This time I'm writing the questions down, preferably in language even an ancient ferryman can't crawl sideways through."

Behind me, River went quiet. "Hazel."

The weight in my name stopped me with an armful of clothes.

"When we get there, I need to ask him something of my own."

For a moment I simply looked at him. In two years River had protected me, challenged me, infuriated me, rescued me when I didn't want rescuing, and inserted himself into corners of my life I hadn't realized were empty until he occupied them. He had given without being asked. He had taken liberties I hadn't offered. But I couldn't remember the last time River Blackman had actually asked me for something.

"Okay."

His brow creased slightly, almost as though he'd expected resistance. "You don't want to know what I'm going to ask?"

I looked at the male who had spent four days hiding his pain because he'd apparently decided mine mattered more. Then I shoved my jeans into the dryer.

"No."

"Why not?"

I shrugged one shoulder so I didn't need to answer. I fed two more quarters into the slot and started the drum turning.

"Twenty minutes," I told him instead. "Then we go and talk to a ferryman."