“You know,” he mused, “it’s still weird to see you wear anything but your dress.”

I glanced down at the robe and then forced a weak smile. “Actually, the dress sort of … disintegrated. I’m sure there are some pieces left, if you want me to hunt them down for you.”

Still smiling, Joshua pushed himself up and gestured for me to join him. After dropping my bag and clothes in the corner, I gathered my robe into one hand and sat on the edge of the bed next to his feet.

Once I’d settled, Joshua’s expression grew serious again. For a second he just studied me, taking in my puffy, red-ringed eyes and my drawn face. Then he turned back to the bedside table and grabbed something I hadn’t noticed before: a plate heaped high with food.

It was love at first sight: tomatoes and peppers and onions, swimming in a thick sauce around crawfish and rice. The rich, tangy scent of the food wafted toward me, and my hand moved of its own accord, reaching automatically for the plate. Joshua laughed at my enthusiasm and hurried to pass me the plate and a spoon.

“My dad’s étouffée, left over from last night. I thought you might need it.”

Lifting a spoonful of the mixture to my mouth, I tried not to moan. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything so badly.”

Joshua laughed again and settled against the pillows, watching as I attempted to eat like a human instead of gobble directly from the plate.

Once I’d devoured more than half the étouffée, he reached back to his night table for one last item and placed it next to me on the bed. I set aside my plate and took his new offering eagerly, unwrapping the layers of paper towel that surrounded it. When I saw what the towel held, however, I dropped it onto my lap.

There, in the middle of the paper, lay a single powder-coated beignet.

I must have stared down at it for too long, because eventually Joshua cleared his throat.

“Not hungry anymore?” he asked.

My head jerked upward. I thought I’d finished all my crying in the shower, by myself. But to my humiliation, my eyes welled with tears the minute they met Joshua’s.

Immediately, he looked stricken. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured gently.

He shifted forward, reaching out to comfort me; but I shied away from his touch. Seeing this reaction, Joshua frowned.

“You don’t want me to touch you anymore, do you?”

“No. Yes. But that’s not the point. It’s just—”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t, because of everything that happened?” he interrupted.

“No,” I repeated, feeling frustrated by my sudden inability to express myself. “That’s not it at all. It’s just that … I can’t … you can’t …”

“I can’t touch you anymore?” he finished.

A tear trailed down my cheek, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “Bingo,” I said miserably. “You can’t. No living person can. That’s part of what I’ve become. I can do all kinds of things now: eat, sleep, change clothes. I can even touch stuff. Just not living people. It’s like I’ve regressed or something.”

Both of Joshua’s eyebrows rose. “But what about the fire?” he asked. “The sparks, when we touch?”

“No sparks. Not anymore.”

Joshua sank down onto the bed. He raked one hand through his hair and then dropped it to the bedspread, where he traced absent circles with one finger.

After a few quiet seconds of tracing, he looked back up at me and asked, “That’s what happened to you at the St. Louis Number One, isn’t it? That’s why you broke up with me?”

I grimaced. “Yes and no. At the St. Louis, Gaby transformed me without my permission. But I didn’t find that out until after I … until after we …”

I trailed off, unsure of how to finish that statement. When Joshua realized what I meant, hurt flooded his eyes. “So if you didn’t know you were changing, then why did you break up with me, Amelia?”

I hung my head, ashamed. “I wanted to keep you safe from what ended up happening anyway.”

“What does that mean, Amelia?”

“It means I failed. I wanted to keep you and Jillian and everyone else I care about safe from the demons. I thought if I stayed away from you, then you’d stay off the demons’ radar when they eventually came for me.”

Joshua stirred uneasily beside me. “Why did you think they were coming for you in the first place? I thought they’d left you alone since Eli disappeared.”

I sighed heavily and began rubbing my eyelids, mostly to avoid looking up at him. “I didn’t want to tell you at the time because I thought it would just be too risky. But Eli reappeared on the night of the bonfire party. He warned me that the demons had decided to hunt me and that they were willing to hurt my loved ones, if they had to. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth until I saw some demons at that club in the Quarter. I’d hoped that Gaby might be able to help me fight them, but after the ritual at the St. Louis, I realized that I was just delaying the inevitable and putting you in more danger in the process. So I … I ended it. And then screwed it all up tonight.”

I was shocked when Joshua responded with a loud laugh. My eyes shot open, and I met his gaze, which was far softer than I’d expected it to be after a confession like that. Smiling again, he shifted closer to me on the bed.

“Amelia Elizabeth Ashley, I say this with affection, but you’re totally crazy.”

I laughed too, although I sounded tenser than Joshua. “Of course I’m crazy. But I’d love to hear your reason why.”

Joshua smirked. “You broke up with me because you thought our relationship would put me at risk? Amelia, I’m a ghost-seeing descendant of exorcists who happens to be in love with—what?—the undead? My life blew past normal and safe a long time ago.”

If I wasn’t so incredibly flustered, I might have laughed. But instead, I couldn’t focus on anything but one little four-letter word. Through all the fear and guilt and heartache, a real smile spread across my face.

“The proper term is Risen, actually—not undead. But are you? I mean, are you still …?”

Joshua’s own smile lifted higher. “Are you asking if I’m still in love with you? Despite the fact that you broke up with me because you’re being chased by demons and rogue ghosts and evil Seers?”

“Yeah,” I choked, taken aback by his frankness. “I guess I am.”

Joshua unexpectedly ducked his head, once more scrutinizing the bedspread. For far too long he didn’t say anything, and my pulse began to race uncomfortably. It outright stuttered when he looked up at me again.

“Amelia,” he said roughly, “I’m not going to tell you I love you again. Not without something in return.”

Suddenly, the entire world was a heart-stopping midnight blue. Before I even had time to think them, I whispered the four words that I’d been dying to say for the last three months:

“I love you, Joshua.”

The moment those words left my mouth, I felt a huge whoosh of relief. One that made me wonder why I hadn’t said that a long time ago. Joshua’s answering grin told me that he shared my thoughts.

“Now, was that so hard?” he asked.

I grinned back, so widely my cheeks ached. Not that I cared right now. “Yes,” I teased him. “It was brutal. That’s why I waited this long to say it.”

With a low, sexy laugh, Joshua leaned so close I could smell his cologne; could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Every single one of my nerve endings began to hum happily.

“You know,” he whispered, “this would be the perfect moment to kiss you.”

“If only you could.”

Joshua’s expression shifted from seductive to fervent. “Oh, don’t worry: I’ll find a way. I swear.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and leaned back, putting some space between us before I started to hyperventilate from our closeness.

“Just because I love you,” I cautioned, “doesn’t mean I’m ready to join in another one of your optimistic schemes. Not quite yet.”