response.
“I was going to say that it’s my pleasure to guard you.”
Jackson looked down at me and grinned. I couldn’t stop the huge smile that I beamed at him in return.
When his grin faded, he was still looking at me.
“I know what you risked, though. I know what could’ve happened to you if they’d wanted to hurt you.”
Slowly, Jackson raised my hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the backs of my fingers.
“It doesn’t matter. I could never let someone hurt you.”
His words, his tenderness, the look in his eyes made my heart soar.
“Madly?”
At the sound of my name, I jumped guiltily, jerking my hand out of Jackson’s and springing back away from him. I noticed his frown right before I turned to see CoCo Crane coming out of a paint supply store.
“Hey, CoCo,” I said, my cheeks stinging even more now.
“I thought that was you,” she said.
CoCo sauntered over to stand beside me, swinging her bag of goodies as she eyed Jackson.
“You ever do any modeling?” she asked him bluntly.
Jackson scowled. That was like asking a Sentinel if he wrote poetry or got pedicures. Sentinels were supposed to be hard and brutal and ruthless. I happened to know, however, that while Jackson probably could be all of those things when the occasion called for it, he had a soft, chewy center that made my heart swell. Of course, he still didn’t take kindly to her insinuation.
“No,” he snapped.
“Oh,” she said knowingly. “The brooding type, huh? Even better.”
Jackson looked at me, scowled more deeply and then looked back to CoCo.
“What are you up to, CoCo?” I asked, hoping to break the tension that everyone but CoCo seemed to feel.
Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from Jackson to answer me.
“Getting some new oil colors. I want to try my hand at painting people. Nudes to be precise,” she explained, her eyes darting quickly to Jackson and then back to me again, as if she couldn’t keep them away from him. “I needed some different colors.”
I nodded, quelling the urge to claw her eyes out.
“Well, have fun,” I said, reaching out to take Jackson’s hand again in a childish show of possession. “See you at school.”
With that, I turned and tugged Jackson forward. Obligingly, he moved. If he hadn’t, there would’ve been little I could do about it. He probably weighed a small ton.
When we’d left CoCo far behind, I turned to Jackson.
“Can you believe her? I mean, seriously, could she have been a little more obvious?”
He said nothing, just frowned down at me.
“What?” I asked, puzzled by the odd look on his face.
Jackson glanced down at our hands briefly, his fingers working their way free of mine. Hesitantly, I let them go.
“You let go of my hand awfully quickly. Who did you think it was?”
It was my turn to frown. “I don’t know. She just startled me. Why?”
Jackson said nothing for several long seconds. He simply stared at me as if he was trying to read my mind.
“No reason. Come on. We’d better get going. It’ll be dark soon,” he said again, as if it suddenly mattered.
“Is there any water around here? In the forest, I mean. A pond, a stream, anything? I’ll need more water than what’s in my bracelet for this.”
Jackson nodded sharply.
“There’s a small stream that runs across the northwest corner.”
“That will work,” I said, striking off in a northwesterly direction. That’s another thing all Mer had in common—an unerring sense of direction.
By the time I could hear the fine babble of the creek, Jackson’s mood had grown dark and there was an uneasy tension between us. I knew asking him what was wrong would be a waste of time. Jackson wasn’t the type to share things like that, things like his feelings.
I stood on the sloped bank of the stream, looking at the gurgling water with longing. I squatted down and dipped my fingers in, feeling the
“I was going to say that it’s my pleasure to guard you.”
Jackson looked down at me and grinned. I couldn’t stop the huge smile that I beamed at him in return.
When his grin faded, he was still looking at me.
“I know what you risked, though. I know what could’ve happened to you if they’d wanted to hurt you.”
Slowly, Jackson raised my hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the backs of my fingers.
“It doesn’t matter. I could never let someone hurt you.”
His words, his tenderness, the look in his eyes made my heart soar.
“Madly?”
At the sound of my name, I jumped guiltily, jerking my hand out of Jackson’s and springing back away from him. I noticed his frown right before I turned to see CoCo Crane coming out of a paint supply store.
“Hey, CoCo,” I said, my cheeks stinging even more now.
“I thought that was you,” she said.
CoCo sauntered over to stand beside me, swinging her bag of goodies as she eyed Jackson.
“You ever do any modeling?” she asked him bluntly.
Jackson scowled. That was like asking a Sentinel if he wrote poetry or got pedicures. Sentinels were supposed to be hard and brutal and ruthless. I happened to know, however, that while Jackson probably could be all of those things when the occasion called for it, he had a soft, chewy center that made my heart swell. Of course, he still didn’t take kindly to her insinuation.
“No,” he snapped.
“Oh,” she said knowingly. “The brooding type, huh? Even better.”
Jackson looked at me, scowled more deeply and then looked back to CoCo.
“What are you up to, CoCo?” I asked, hoping to break the tension that everyone but CoCo seemed to feel.
Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from Jackson to answer me.
“Getting some new oil colors. I want to try my hand at painting people. Nudes to be precise,” she explained, her eyes darting quickly to Jackson and then back to me again, as if she couldn’t keep them away from him. “I needed some different colors.”
I nodded, quelling the urge to claw her eyes out.
“Well, have fun,” I said, reaching out to take Jackson’s hand again in a childish show of possession. “See you at school.”
With that, I turned and tugged Jackson forward. Obligingly, he moved. If he hadn’t, there would’ve been little I could do about it. He probably weighed a small ton.
When we’d left CoCo far behind, I turned to Jackson.
“Can you believe her? I mean, seriously, could she have been a little more obvious?”
He said nothing, just frowned down at me.
“What?” I asked, puzzled by the odd look on his face.
Jackson glanced down at our hands briefly, his fingers working their way free of mine. Hesitantly, I let them go.
“You let go of my hand awfully quickly. Who did you think it was?”
It was my turn to frown. “I don’t know. She just startled me. Why?”
Jackson said nothing for several long seconds. He simply stared at me as if he was trying to read my mind.
“No reason. Come on. We’d better get going. It’ll be dark soon,” he said again, as if it suddenly mattered.
“Is there any water around here? In the forest, I mean. A pond, a stream, anything? I’ll need more water than what’s in my bracelet for this.”
Jackson nodded sharply.
“There’s a small stream that runs across the northwest corner.”
“That will work,” I said, striking off in a northwesterly direction. That’s another thing all Mer had in common—an unerring sense of direction.
By the time I could hear the fine babble of the creek, Jackson’s mood had grown dark and there was an uneasy tension between us. I knew asking him what was wrong would be a waste of time. Jackson wasn’t the type to share things like that, things like his feelings.
I stood on the sloped bank of the stream, looking at the gurgling water with longing. I squatted down and dipped my fingers in, feeling the
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