My parents had known about Olivia’s gift.

I turned to Hayden, needing to tell him. For a few seconds, I simply stared at him. Thick, sooty lashes fell against his cheeks, his lips parted with each deep breath he took. Asleep, the natural beauty of his face seemed even more alluring, more vulnerable. It was a shame to wake him up, to disturb him, but I figured this was pretty important. He’d want to know.

“Hayden?” I inched closer, resting on my knees beside his waist. “Wake up.”

He didn’t move; not even a lash stirred.

“Hayden, wake up. Come on, wake up.”

Nothing.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and shook him. “Come on. I have to tell you”

He shot up like a rocket, knocking me flat on my back. Then he was on me, sliding down my hips, straddling them, pinning my legs down. All of it happened so fast, was so unexpected, that I simply froze.

Holding himself up with his hands planted on either side of my head, Hayden lowered his. In that heartbeat, I didn’t recognize him, didn’t know the look in his eyes or the tense pull to his lips. He’d become a virtual stranger.

And I knew beyond a doubt he had no idea who I was.

“Hayden?” I whispered, putting one shaking hand on his chest. “It’s me.”

He blinked and inhaled sharply. “Don’t ever do that again, Ember.”

I stared up at him, my heart thundering in my chest. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen.

“I could’ve hurt you.”

Him hurt me? In any other situation, that might’ve been funny. It wasn’t now. I swallowed. “Okay.”

His chest rose and fell unsteadily above mine. His body threw off an amazing amount of heat. “I’m… sorry I scared you. There were too many nights in foster homes being woken up like that. It was never good.”

I let out the breath I was holding, unsure of what to say. I could only imagine what he meant by that, and each idea grew more horrible than the last.

He closed his eyes, his voice ragged. “I’m sorry. This was a”

“No. It’s okay. You just startled me. I’m okay. You’re okay.”

Hayden opened his eyes. “Em…?”

His stare held so much intensity that I found it difficult to breathe. A look of yearning, of desperation, and he was studying me. Studying my face, the way my top had slipped down. And his stare was spreading a hot flush over my body.

Slowly, he dipped down, placing his weight on one arm. He brought his hand to the side of my face, his fingers hovering over my cheek. My own fingers curled into the sweater. God, I wanted him to touch me so badly. The need consumed meburned like fire.