I suspected he was testing me, testing my promise. “You’re staring after Death,” Jack said, drawing my attention. Anger warred with confusion in his expression. “You worried about him?” My protectiveness toward Aric hadn’t waned. “Yes.” Worry filled me—for him and Jack. For Selena and Matthew. “Because you think we need him? Or because you think you care about him?” “Both.” I did care about Aric, maybe even more than cared. I’d told Jack and Aric to get their heads in the game. I was one to talk. I couldn’t stop comparing the two. Jack’s passion and drive versus Death’s intensity and Arcana connection. God help me, I could see myself with either. Or . . . neither? They’d both hurt me. The red witch in me whispered, That’s what dust is for: to leave them in it. I wished I could get objective advice. Damn, I missed my best friend Mel. She probably would’ve told me to keep both guys, collecting men like handbags. Jack set his bow down and began to pace in front of the hearth, his eyes so vivid in the firelight.
