He trails off as the spreading euphoria touches him as well, pressing against his defenses. Whatever armor he’s wearing, it’s strong—but when I touch him, the barrier dissolves, his emotions rush into me, and I know the truth at last. He’s attracted to me; he thinks I’m going to die, and it makes him sad; he never fully believed in the Corrupter until now, and he’s both excited and scared; he’s glad we kissed … but he also regrets it, because he really does care what happens to me.

The electricity grows stronger, the shared bliss of the crowd spilling into both of us. His eyes flash gold, his expression going first bright with surprise and then dark with lust. He steps closer and I let him, welcoming him into the circuitry, and his hands find my waist. “Auggie … I really want to kiss you again.”

“I know.” I touch his jaw. “So why don’t you?”

He pulls at my hair, forcing my head back, and when his lips meet mine, the circuit flares. His mouth is exquisite, and more memories pour out of him: a guy at a diner, with brown skin and soft curls, who smiles when he catches Gunnar staring; losing his virginity on the beach at night, the water freezing, but the stars endless and perfect; teeth sinking into his neck, and a single thought pulsing in his mind, Yes, yes, yes …

“What’s happening?” Jude stands before us, eyes glowing and heavy-lidded, caught in the same honey trap as the rest of us. His thoughts tingle when they touch me, and I move closer as he asks, “Why do I feel so…”

When I take his hand, a shudder passes through both of us. He wasn’t lying about his reasons for flirting with me, and he wasn’t lying when he said he’d look into ways to stop what’s happening to me—but he doesn’t think it can be done. He tells people he doesn’t believe in the Corrupter, but he’s always suspected, and deep down he’s afraid the only way to stop it is for me to die.

And lately, unexpectedly, he’s not sure he wants that to happen.

I pull him closer, pushing the thoughts aside, because I can. The stress, the anxiety, the conflict … it’s endless and unbearable. If I wake up dead tomorrow, I don’t want my last night to be drowned in suffering—and underneath it all, buried by his own self-imposed miseries, Jude’s bliss cries out for freedom as well. So I give it a tug and bring it forth.

His eyes blaze, and he stumbles closer. “August?”

“It’s okay.” I’ve never meant anything more sincerely. A week ago, I’d never been kissed, and tonight … “I know what you want. It’s okay.”