CHAPTER 1
Delaware, Present-Day October
One look into his eyes and I understood.
I gave him a conspiratorial wink and, completely spellbound, watched how he casually strolled past the dancing
partygoers, past the torches illuminating the path along the lakeshore, and up to the patio door—only to disappear
inside with an auspicious smile.
Luckily I wasn’t drinking hard liquor, because the heat rising inside me could have ignited the alcohol in my glass. As
my excitement grew, all I could do was force myself to a laugh with the chatty, cheerful group of friends by my side.
And although I tried my hardest to seem casual and relaxed, my best friend, Kim Fryer, noticed that I was preoccupied.
“Hey, Sam, you okay?” she asked, gently pulling away from the arms of her boyfriend, Justin Summers.
I felt like she had just caught me red-handed. Hard to believe that Kim knew me so well that not even the smallest of my
emotions escaped her attention, not even at a party.
“Sure! I just wanted to go inside for a bit. Put some more bottles on ice and such,” I said, pointing back at the
house.
“Jeez, it’s your birthday! You don’t have to do any of that stuff. You stay here—I’ll take care of it,” she
offered.
“No, no, that’s all right. I need a breather anyway. Pretty cool party, huh?”
In truth, I was actually surprised that so many people had made their way to the lake to celebrate my eighteenth
birthday.
My popularity seemed to have increased significantly since that thing that happened at South Dupont Boulevard.
Ryan Baker and Justin Summers had of course told everyone what had happened there. And every time the story was retold,
someone exaggerated and added to it. Except…the truth itself was missing from their story, because nobody would have
believed it.
Nathaira Stuart, a Scottish witch, had tried to kill me. That sure was something nobody knew, because who’d have
guessed that I would fall in love during a student-exchange trip to Scotland? And with a boy whose entire family had
been living under a 270-year-old curse that damned them all to an eternal life without feelings or emotions.
Who’d have guessed that I—of all people—carried the power to break this curse, just because the blood of the Camerons
runs through my veins? Clan Cameron was not supposed to have survived, because Payton McLean’s clan had tried its best
to murder every single one of my ancestors. It was only thanks to Vanora, another witch, that the plan had failed. And
surely nobody would have thought it possible that, in the end, Nathaira Stuart would break Vanora’s curse by making
Payton choose love and want to give his life for me.
All of this seemed so unbelievable that Ryan’s and Justin’s exaggerations didn’t even come close to what had really
happened.
Still, the shoot-out at the motel, which concluded this blood-soaked drama, had been the number-one topic over the past
few weeks, and, in my schoolmates’ eyes, I had become as cool as Lara Croft. Since that day, even Lisa and her gang of
cheerleaders had vied for my friendship and had gone so far as to organize a birthday party for me. Not too long ago
this would have made me incredibly happy, but right now I was only interested in one person, and he was waiting for me
in the house.
With an armful of empty bottles and plastic cups, I finally managed to escape inside. I gave the door a gentle push, and
fear washed over me in the sudden silence. I put down the cups and bottles, and with palms sweaty from excitement, I
wiped my hands on my pants. In this kid-free zone you could barely hear the cheerful partygoers and music. I nervously
pushed my hair behind my ears and tugged on my shirt.
Then I took a deep breath and whispered with quivering lips, “Payton?”
“And I was worried you had stood me up.”
He was leaning in the doorway, arms casually folded across his chest. In the weak glow of the party lights, all I could
make out was his outline—and the sparkle in his eyes that were full of affection and anticipation. Magic seemed to draw
me to him, and when his arms closed around me and he enchanted me with a gentle kiss, I knew: This night would be our
night.
Somehow we were suddenly in my bedroom. I leaned against the door, my lips swollen from Payton’s passionate kisses. He
came at me strong and pantherlike, putting his hands against the door on either side of me and leaning in for another
kiss. Then he withdrew his mouth and looked me deep in the eyes as he slowly turned the door key with a small grating
sound—locking out the rest of the world.
I was scared. I had waited for him for so long, had wanted this to happen forever, but now all I could do was tremble
with nervous excitement. I gave him a bashful smile but quickly closed my eyes so he wouldn’t notice my insecurities.
“Sam?” Payton whispered into my ear. “Relax, mo luaidh.”
He knew how much I liked this Gaelic term of endearment, and I started feeling calmer. There was no need to be scared.
Nothing bad would ever happen to me when I was in Payton’s arms, of that I was sure.
“Tha gràdh agam ort,” I said, confessing my love to him. That was about the extent of my Gaelic, so I wrapped my arms
around his back and pulled him closer. I enjoyed the feel of his strong, muscular body snuggling against mine. After
all, it was Vanora’s curse that had prevented us from being close to each other without him suffering excruciating
pain. Payton’s hands trembled, too, as he slowly explored the skin under my shirt. I giggled.
“What is it?” he asked, stopping to caress my waist.
“Hmm, nothing. Your hands are shaking.”
“So are yours,” he whispered into my neck, only to follow up with a flood of kisses all the way down to my collarbone.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed that delicious feeling slowly awakening inside me.
“Yes, I know, but that’s different. You…I mean…” Oh God, it was embarrassing enough to talk about it—how was I
ever going to actually do it?
“Shhh,” he said, taking a step back to unbutton his shirt. “Don’t forget that I was only sixteen years old at the
time,” he explained, throwing his shirt over the back of a chair. I couldn’t help but admire his athletic figure, even
though I found the small white bandage under his heart distracting.
“But you’ve done it before—and I haven’t!” I managed to squeeze out.
“Mo luaidh, that was a long time ago. Long before I lost all feeling under Vanora’s curse. So you see, it doesn’t
count at all anymore,” he said, laughing and pulling me back into his arms.
And it was true: It didn’t matter at all after our next kiss. Nothing mattered but him and me—and our night full of
love.