Chapter 5

5

I knew I had too much to drink. But who cared? Everyone there was over-served, and that was fine because it was New Year's Eve, and we were all just going to crash on whoever's living room floor this was anyway.

I didn't know many people there. Annie's friend, Dee, practically forced us to come. But the flood of champagne had my body singing. They were all so beautiful in their shiny metallic dresses and little sequin numbers. The boys looking sharp in button-down shirts and black pants, streamers and confetti dusting their shoulders. I loved all of these strangers, this throng of people revolving around me, beaming like a sexy disco ball while I danced directly beneath shrouded in good times and good vibes. I was so gone that I was actually giggling to myself as I peered over the balcony railing, waving down at the people in the streets shouting, "Happy New Year!" over and over. I didn't hear him creep up next to me. I felt the brush of a shoulder against mine and turned.

Though the image could have been less blurry had I not been so intoxicated, I'll never forget seeing him for the first time.

Dark hair falling just past his ears, eyes an intense honey color, and a tiny silver hoop piercing his full bottom lip. He wasn't dressed in finery like the rest of us. Dressed down in a worn leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots, he put everyone to shame with casual ease. I could just make out the hint of tattoos licking up the strong column of his neck, peeking out above the collar of his black T-shirt. He was a walking warning sign screaming, " CAUTION." But those honeyed eyes locked with mine and we started to laugh. Over nothing.

I don't remember what we talked about but he never left my side that night. We stayed up talking long after everyone else had scattered and passed out, covering every surface, nook, and cranny with their drunken bodies. I woke the next morning with one of the worst hangovers of my life, fully clothed, with a pair of heavy, tattooed arms wrapped around my waist.

I tried to disengage from him without jostling him awake, but he tightened his grip, pulling me flush against his chest as he whispered in my ear, "I don't know your name, but I'm pretty sure I told you I loved you last night."

I giggled through the raging headache. "I think you did."

He sighed happily. "Well, I'm psychic, so it wasn't complete bullshit."

"Well, then maybe you can tell me if my car is gonna make it another year or if I should trade it in while I have the chance?"

"Oh, you don't believe me?"

"Not even a little."

"You'll see, baby. I'm gonna marry you." He planted a sweet kiss on my neck and sat up. "After I take you to breakfast."

First my dad, then my sister, and now…

Jack is here. My Jack.

This can't be real. It just can't. This has to be a dream.

But that was him . Only not. He seemed even more beautiful than the last time I saw him. As if that were humanly possible. Those eyes that used to remind me of honey were now liquid gold. His hair was shorter than when I last saw him—cropped closer on the sides with enough left on top to spill over his forehead in a roguish, lazy way, leaving his high cheekbones and strong jawline to shine. Had he always been so tall, so strapping? Captain , they had called him. He clearly didn't recognize me either.

How is it possible that no one recognizes me?

The twin guards haul me up by the arms and heave me into the chair roughly. Without removing the heavy chains circling my wrists, the leather restraints are secured tightly around my forearms. The twins close the cell behind them and disappear. I fight against the thick straps, jerking my arms upward to no avail.

Roughly half an hour later, a long shadow appears down the hall. Jack breezes through my cell, face hard as stone, as he slides on a pair of black leather gloves.

"Alright, witch. I'm going to ask you some questions," he says absentmindedly, as if this were a doctor's visit. He stops in front of a small wooden table near the wall where he uncovers a series of silver knives. My stomach tightens.

"Answer them truthfully, and this will be relatively painless for you. Lie to me or neglect to answer them, and I don't think you'll find the alternative enjoyable."

"What do you want from me?"

" Oh. " He turns to me, eyebrows raised, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "I think you're mistaken. I ask the questions here. "

He circles me, slowly sizing me up before stopping in front of me, hands folded behind his back.

"Who are you."

"My name is Serena Avery. I don't know how I got here?—"

"Ah, ah, ah." He holds up a hand. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. One step at a time. Serena, is it?"

"It is," I bite.

"What were you doing in the Bone Forest?"

"I told you, I don't know how I got there. I don't know anything."

He tuts.

"See, I think you do." Shaking his head disapprovingly, he picks up a serrated knife and holds it up to the light, examining it like a serial killer.

"I'm telling the truth. I have no idea how I got here."

"You know, for a human, you're not ugly," he muses, lowering the knife to my cheek. I hold my breath.

"Not exactly a compliment," I mutter, chancing a look up into a set of dazzling golden eyes.

"I didn't say you were beautiful," he specifies. "It's a plain face. But an interesting one. However, I think I can make it even more interesting." His voice sends traitorous chills down my arms as it leaves his mouth. He crouches before me, leaning over my lap with the knife still pressed to my cheek. He tickles it along my skin, teasing the pain that will come if he applies just a touch more pressure.

"I have no reason to lie to you," I say evenly, my eyes holding his.

"Don't you?"

"No."

"Are you a witch?"

A laugh bursts from me as I stare at him. He stares back, unblinking and unamused. "Oh, you're serious? "

"I'd like to show you just how serious I am," he murmurs, gently dragging his knife up the inside of my leg to stop above my knee. The sound of my scream echoes down the cavernous hall as he sinks the tip into the meaty part of my thigh.

He makes no move to pull the it out. Instead, he holds it in place with the tip of his long pointer finger.

"Don't waste your energy all at once. We're just getting started. Now tell me how a human came to appear in the Bone Forest by way of shadow smoke?"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" I growl, tugging at my restraints. A red splotch blooms around his knife, drenching my jeans in blood.

"Red blood." He clicks his tongue. "Not a promising start. Is it a glamour?" His knife digs in the slightest bit more, and a high-pitched yelp tears from me. I force myself to smile and laugh through the searing pain.

"If this is your idea of flirting, you're gonna have to do better than that."

His upper lip curls back in a snarl.

"I'll be straight with you. You're only here because you're suspected of being the last Blackblood witch."

"On what grounds?"

"Well, let's see—is materializing in a cloud of smoke with a rabid familiar grounds enough for you?"

I shake my head, exasperated. "Again, I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you just cut the act and tell me the truth, this can be over."

"And then what? Will you let me go?"

He gives a noncommittal shrug. "I haven't decided yet."

"Look, just tell me what it is you want to hear because I truly don't know."

He pauses, and for a moment, I think he might believe the sincerity of my words. But instead, he shoves the knife all the way through my leg to the hilt.

I wail before my body goes into shock. Blood splatters his dark leathers as he wrenches the knife free and stands, wiping the blade on his pant leg. He stares down at me with icy indifference, ignoring the pool of blood gathering at my feet.

He must have hit a major artery because I'm getting dizzy fast.

"I'm going to bleed out if you don't help me," I breathe, my head lolling back as I struggle to remain awake. His image starts to blur beyond my blinking eyes. The last thing I see before they close is his knife slicing through the leather restraints before bending to scoop me up in his arms.