“You know you don’t have to lie, right? You can tell me what happened. I swear I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“You won’t tell anyone what?” I’m thoroughly confused now. Because while it might have been a stretch to call Jaxon interesting, I can’t imagine why the fact that I’ve met him is eliciting this kind of response from my cousin.

“What he did to you?” She starts looking me over, like she’s searching for some proof that I survived a rabid Jaxon attack.

“He didn’t do anything, Macy.” A little impatient now, I pull my hands from hers. “I mean, he wasn’t Gandhi. But he helped me out when I needed it, and he sure as hell didn’t hurt me. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because Jaxon Vega isn’t helpful to anyone. Ever.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, you should.” She enunciates each word in an obvious attempt to make sure I listen to—and understand—what she’s saying. “Because he’s dangerous, Grace. Very dangerous, and you should stay as far away from him as you possibly can.”

I start to tell her that he’s not the dangerous one, but then I remember the way Marc and Quinn fell right into line the second he showed up. It was hard to miss the fear on their faces, and not just because he’d sent them flying across the room.

Now that I think back on it, they had been scared of him. Like, really scared.

“I’m serious. You need to be careful of him. If he really was helpful to you, it’s only because he wants something. And even that seems strange, because Jaxon takes what he wants. Always has, always will.”

I’ve been here three days and even I know that’s not true. Which is probably why I say, “Jaxon’s the one who kept Marc and Quinn from throwing me out in the snow, Macy. I don’t think he did it because he wanted something from me.”

“Wait. He’s the one?”

“Yes, he is. Why would he do that if he’s such a bad guy?”

“I don’t know.” She looks stunned. “But just because he helped you once doesn’t mean he’ll do it again. So be careful with him, okay?”

“He’s not the one who tried to kill me.”

She snorts. “Yeah, well, you’ve only been here a few days. Give it time.”

“That’s…” For long seconds, I trip over my tongue as I try to find a comeback that will show her how absurd she sounds. But in the end, I can’t get past the annoyance her words cause and end up saying exactly what I’m thinking. “A really awful thing to say.”

“Just because it’s awful doesn’t make it any less true.” She gives me a no-nonsense look that seems incongruous with her normally effervescent personality. “You need to trust me on this.”

“Macy…”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry about me being too harsh.” She narrows her eyes at me in obvious warning. “And don’t worry about Jaxon Vega. Unless you’re trying to figure out how to stay as far away from him as possible.”

Behind her, something catches my eye, and my mouth goes dry. “Yeah, well, that might be a problem.” I barely manage to get the words out past my suddenly tight throat.

“And why is that exactly?”

“Because I’m not going anywhere.” Jaxon’s low, amused voice cuts through my cousin’s umbrage, has her eyes going wide and her skin draining of color. “And neither is Grace.”

18

How Many

Hot Guys Does it

Take to Win a

Snowball Fight?

Macy squeaks—she actually squeaks—but Jaxon just raises his brows at me. The look on his face is a little amused and a lot wicked and my heart starts beating like a metronome on high.

At least until Macy hisses, “Seriously? You couldn’t tell me he was there?”

“I didn’t—”

“She didn’t know.” He looks me over from top to bottom, and for a second, just a second, a smile touches the depths of those obsidian eyes of his. “Braving the snow twice in one day? I’ve got to admit I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be too impressed. I still have to make it through the snowball fight in one piece.”

The smile drops—from his face and his eyes—as quickly as it came. “You’re playing Flint’s game?”

It sounds more like an accusation than a question, though I don’t know why. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“For a snowball fight?” He shakes his head, makes a dismissive sound deep in his throat. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, well…” That got awkward fast. “Um. We should probably…”

“Get going,” Macy finishes.

Jaxon ignores her as he braces a hand on the wall behind me. Then he leans in and, in a voice so low I have to strain to hear him, murmurs, “You’re determined not to listen to me, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper back, but I can’t look him in the face as I say it. Not when I’m lying—I know exactly what he’s talking about—and not when his breath is so warm and soft against my ear that I can feel it everywhere, even deep inside.

“It really is for your own good,” he tells me, still standing way too close. Heat slams through me—at his words and his proximity and the orange and dark-water scent of him currently wrapping itself around me.

“What—” My voice breaks, my throat so tight and dry, I can barely force the words through it when I try again. “What is?”

“You shouldn’t go to that snowball fight with Flint.” He pulls back, his gaze catching and holding mine. “And you sure as hell shouldn’t be wandering around the school grounds on your own. You’re not safe here.”

It’s not the first time he’s implied that Katmere is dangerous for me. And I get it. I do. Alaska is no picnic for the uninitiated. But I’m with Macy, on school grounds. No way is she going to let anything happen to me.

“I’ll be fine.” It’s easier to breathe now that Jaxon’s mouth isn’t a scant inch from my ear, but finding words is still harder than it should be under his watchful gaze. “I’m not planning on wandering off tonight. I’ll be with the group the whole time.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound impressed. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?” I clarify. “I thought you’d be relieved I’m not planning on tackling any wild animals with my bare hands.”

“It’s not the wild animals I’m concerned about.”

Before I can ask him what that means, Macy interjects again. “We should get going. We don’t want to be late.”

“Well, whatever you’re concerned about, you shouldn’t be,” I tell him, refusing to be pulled away before I’m ready. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. But if you want, you can join us.”

“Join you.” His tone implies I just suggested that we fly to Mars under our own power.

But I refuse to be dissuaded. Not when Jaxon is standing so close to me instead of pulling his usual disappearing act. “It’ll be fun. And I’m sure Flint won’t mind.”

“You’re sure he won’t mind.” He repeats my words, and again it isn’t a question. He’s back to seeming amused, though—at least if you don’t look too closely at his eyes. They’re flat now, completely empty in a way I haven’t seen since he looked through me at the party. “Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m pretty sure he will.”

“Why would he? He invited a ton of people.” I turn to look at Macy, who has gone absolutely sheet white.

I roll my eyes at her, annoyed she seems so freaked out at the idea of hanging with Jaxon, but before I can say anything, Flint walks up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, Grace. Looks like you’re ready to get your snowball on.”

“I am, actually.” I turn and end up grinning at him because it’s impossible not to. He’s just that fun and that charming. Not to mention the fact that he’s wearing a snow hat in the shape of a fire-breathing dragon that looks absolutely ridiculous. “In fact, I was trying to talk Jaxon into joining us.”

“Oh really?” Flint’s eyes go a kind of burning amber as he looks from me to Jaxon. “What do you say, Vega? Wanna fight?”

Flint’s smiling, but even I can tell it’s not a friendly invitation…and that’s before three other guys in all black join us, arranging themselves in a semicircle right behind Jaxon. For the first time, the phrase “got your back” makes sense to me, because it’s very obvious that’s why these guys are here. To have Jaxon’s back. I just don’t know from what.

These must be members of the infamous Order Macy was telling me about. And I can see why they got the nickname—there’s a closeness among the four of these guys that even I can’t miss. A bond that seems to be about a lot more than simple friendship.

Flint feels it, too. I can tell by the way he stiffens and the way he shifts his weight forward onto his toes, like he’s just waiting for Jaxon to throw the first punch. More, like he’s hoping for it.

Which…no. Just no. I don’t care if there’s suddenly enough testosterone in our little alcove to start the next world war; it’s not going to happen. At least not while Macy and I are standing directly in the middle.

“Come on.” I grab my cousin’s arm. “Let’s go figure out a way to win this snowball fight.”

That gets both Jaxon’s and Flint’s attention. “Those are big words coming from someone who never saw snow before she got here three days ago,” Flint teases, and while the tension isn’t gone, it’s way lower than it was a few seconds ago—exactly as I intended.