Juliet Immortal

spraying mud as the car fights its way out of the flood. And then I’m moving again, up the small rise, down into a shallower stand of water, and then up once more. About a hundred feet away, I see it. A small barn, and Gemma’s BMW parked around the side.
    Relief and fear burst inside me, overloading my nervous system, making me shake as I pull to the side of the road about fifty feet away and cut the engine. I don’t want them to hear me if they haven’t already. I take only a second to flip up the hood of my raincoat and pat my pocket—ensuring the paint knife is still there—before stepping out into the downpour. Thunder crashes and the rain slams against my head and shoulders, tiny fists warning me to get inside and leave nature to its own devices.
    I walk as quickly as I dare up the hill toward the barn entrance. There’s no door, and the structure isn’t that big. Depending on where Ben and Gemma are standing, they might have seen me already. My gut tells me to move slowly, to try not to attract attention. Just in case.
    But it’s hard to slow my steps, to keep from breaking into a run. I have to see Ben. I have to touch him, feel the warmth of his skin and know that he’s still alive.
    Please, please, please. Please let him be okay
. I don’t know what I’ll do if he isn’t, whether I’ll be able to stop myself from falling on Gemma with this ridiculous weapon and finding some way to end her. I’m afraid I’ll kill her if she’s hurt him, no matter what the consequences for my soul or Ariel’s body.
    The seconds tick by with ruthless slowness, each slippery step an eternity. And then a car engine guns to life, and time stands still.
    I spin to the right, making the turn just in time to see Gemma’s BMW leap from the mud and bear down on me. I catch a glimpse of her pale face behind the wheel, meet her eyes for a moment that leaves no doubt that she’s seen me, before the rain smears her reflection. Then all I can see is gray steel and the grille of the car and mud flying from tires that spin faster and faster with no sign of stopping.
    I jump to the side without a second to spare, the moment so close I feel the heat of the engine on my legs. The rear tires spatter me with filth as Gemma speeds away. Raindrops pound into the puddles like quarters hurled from outer space. I lie in the muck, shaking with fear, unable to move, unable to pull myself up off the ground.
    She’s left. She almost ran me over. Why would she do that? Why, if she doesn’t already have Ben’s blood on her hands?
    A sob rises in my throat. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can go in there and look down at another dead body. Not the body of some soul mate I barely knew, but the body of a boy I love. A boy I pushed away when I should have drawn him close and kept him safe. A boy so good and—
    Hands close around my arms, lifting me off the ground, making me want to scream with relief. I know those hands. Even before his face appears above mine, I know it’s Ben pulling me out of the rain.
    Ben. Alive. Alive!
    We barely make it under the cover of the barn’s roof before I hurl myself at him, twining my arms around his neck, feathering kisses across his face—his cheek, his chin, his lips, his nose, his lips.
His lips
. Warm, scratchy with the hint of stubble, soft and beautiful and blissful and Ben.
    Ben, Ben, Ben
. I could say his name a thousand times andnever get tired of the sound of it. I could kiss him like this for hours, days, years. But first, there’s something he has to know.
    I pull my mouth from his. “I love you.” And I do. I’ve already had a soul mate, Ben’s aura is glowing for another, and these aren’t my lips that speak or my arms that hold him. But it is my heart and my truth. He
is
my love. My impossible, doomed, undeniable love.
    “And I love you.” He cups my face in his shaking hands. “I’m so glad—I can’t believe— She almost ran you over!”
    “What about you? Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” My hands run over his shoulders, down to his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath his damp sweater. It’s black this time, flecked with drops of red. I touch a drop with one finger, and my knees nearly buckle with relief. Paint. Not blood.
    “I’m fine, but—”
    “But nothing!” I squeeze his shoulders, brush his damp hair out of his eyes. “I told you to be careful with—”
    “She wanted to go someplace where we could talk in private,” Ben