“You’ll kick ass tonight. Don’t be so nervous, Sagan.”

Sagan sighed. It was easy for Rayne to say. She made running that training course her life, where Sagan only trained at the pace of a normal human being.

As if to assure Sagan, Rayne captured her chin and kissed her, soft and quick. They were under the bleachers again—this time Sagan had checked to make sure they were alone. But…

In the dusk hour, the coming night felt alive with possibility. Almost every night felt that way lately. Sagan blamed a certain gorgeous man of her dreams for the constant nocturnal anticipation—

“Hey.” Rayne kissed Sagan again. “Stay with me.” Tonight, Rayne was in all black—a skater dress and tights with chunky-heeled combat boots.

Guilt and shame suffused Sagan. She was still keeping Korac a secret, even from her girlfriend. Worse, Sagan was confiding her concerns for Rayne to the secret soldier. She tried for a reassuring smile. “I got this.”

“Damn straight.” Rayne hooked her arm through Sagan’s and pulled her out of the stands. “C’mon. I can’t wait to cheer you on.”

Parents, teachers, and students filled the bleachers, prepared to cheer on J. A. Fair’s track team. This was Sagan’s second meet, but in her first one, she set a new school record thanks to Xelan’s training and possibly because of a genetic advantage. One day, Sagan would like for their guardian to come to a meet, but it felt silly asking someone who’d already dedicated so much time to them to take even more time for her school stuff.

With that in mind, Sagan glanced over at her team. Their coach was looking through the crowd, most likely searching for her. She hugged Rayne, saying, “Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss this. Did you not invite Tameka?”

Sagan laughed. “It’s Wednesday, remember? I wouldn’t dare ask her to give up her Xelan night for me.”

Rayne giggled. “It’s so obvious, isn’t it? Do you think he knows?”

That was a good question. Sagan shrugged. “If he does, he’s playing it cool. As if he were capable of anything less.”

“He is pretty cool. Okay. Look for me in the front. Break a leg, girl.”

Another hug. “Thanks, babe. I’m so glad you’re staying with us tonight.”

The almost carnal mischief sparkling in Rayne’s eyes took Sagan’s breath away. “Me, too.” The vixen promptly turned around and walked off.

Okay. Now Sagan had butterflies for a different reason. She made her way through the staging area and found her coach. “Hey, sorry. I was—”

Their principal, Mrs. Mendax, stepped in and patted Sagan’s shoulder while she said, “You’re up first. We want a strong start. You’re our record-breaking star, so don’t blow it.”

The coach gave a helpless shrug.

Yikes.

Hurdles were nothing compared to the vaulting walls on the training course. Sagan had this. While she stripped out of her windbreaker pants, she practiced meditative breathing techniques, another courtesy of Xelan. The short running shorts beneath bared her legs to the cool March night air, and goosebumps formed down the striations of her toned quads.

Whistling brought Sagan around with a grin for Rayne—

It wasn’t Rayne whistling at her.

Justin, allowed in the staging area because of his school athlete prestige, was devouring Sagan with his eyes. His ‘cat that ate the canary’ grin unsettled her. After hanging out with Icari like Xelan and Korac, the adolescent boy’s tenor lacked appeal—all immature and smarmy. “Looking good, Sterling.”

Sagan ignored him, tied her hair back, and stretched, preparing for another record-breaking one hundred meters and ten hurdles.

The toxic chuckle from Justin’s direction turned Sagan’s stomach before he said, “Act all high and mighty while you can. See you after the race.”

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A chill shot down her spine as he walked away toward the stands with too much self-assurance. He was up to something. Probably pissed because she’d emphatically turned down his advances over the last two years.

Only one thing would get Sagan back in the right headspace. She went to her duffel, plopped down cross-legged, and took out Korac’s sketchbook. While her team warmed up, Sagan sketched them, adding to the compendium of landscapes and portraits.

All of Korac’s work was beautiful and inspiring, but one particular portrait had caught Sagan’s attention that first night.

A woman with a mohawk in the coolest battle gear Sagan had ever seen. Another, shorter woman, was snuggled beside her, also in badass clothes. Both were warriors judging by their physiques, and the loving glow Korac had captured made Sagan smile as she imagined her and Rayne in a similar picture.

Sagan wondered if she might recognize the two women in a genetic memory, but she’d yet to experience one. Out of their friend group, she was the only one without genetic memories. And when she’d asked Xelan, he’d said not to force it. Which only frustrated her further.

“Sagan, you’re up.”

Right.

She slipped her sketchbook back in her bag and went to the starting line. It wasn’t hard to spot Rayne in the crowd with her parents. The other girl was waving wildly, contrary to Sagan’s complaints to Korac the night before. It was enough to light Sagan up inside as she got in position.

Deep inhale through the nose.

Easy exhale through the mouth.

Calm. Focus. Relive Xelan’s training and…

The gun went off and so did Sagan. The blond girl sprinted for her life and jumped one hurdle… Two… With all ten hurdles cleared, she crossed the finish line to roaring cheers.

Sagan had once asked Xelan how he could run so far and so fast without losing his breath, as she was now gulping air in great heaves. He’d said his nacre kept him from exerting himself. When she’d asked for one, Xelan told her they’d talk about it later.

Later never came.

So here Sagan was, dying for air with her hamstrings screaming at her. But if the thumbs up from her coach was any indication, Sagan had earned the breathlessness. Another record set.

Kick ass.

Pizza celebration tonight. Screw grilled chicken and steamed broccoli.

Boy, Sagan wished Korac had seen the sprint.

“Well, done, young lady.” Mrs. Mendax was surprisingly stealthy for a woman stilt-walking in those uncomfortable looking heels.

Almost startled, Sagan managed a polite smile as the principal walked back to the stands. Sagan stayed in the staging area to cheer her team on until the meet ended. It was a night well won. As she went to collect her things by the athletics building, a nauseating voice alerted Sagan to her precarious isolation.

“Wear a dress Friday night. I’ll pick you up in my truck.”

Justin.

Sagan was in the middle of climbing into her sweatshirt and windbreaker pants. He’d focused his disgusting sneer on the last of her exposed legs before Sagan quickly pulled her pants the rest of the way on. “What part of ‘hell no’ don’t you understand, Justin?! Even if I wanted to go on a date with you—which I don’t—I spend every Friday at the skating rink with—”

“With Rayne?”

Sagan tensed. She didn’t like the way Justin said it. Smug didn’t cover it.

The bastard got in her face, bad breath and all, only centimeters away.

With that stupid grin, Justin said, “I know your secret.”

Sagan glared, but inside she balked as she asked, “Which secret specifically? I’m a teenage girl, it’s hard to keep track of them all.”

“Rayne.”

Justin may as well have slapped Sagan the way she recoiled and cupped a hand over her mouth.

“That’s right.” He was enjoying this. “I saw you two making out—”

Panicked flared as Sagan cried, “Shh! Shh. Are you crazy?! My parents are around.” She glanced toward the stands to make sure they were alone, ready to kick his ass but also kinda ready to cry. “Why would you threaten me with this? Do you have any idea what might happen to us?”

Permanent grounding would keep them from training with Xelan. A conversion camp might ruin their lives.

Satisfied, Justin said, “Because you’re the track and field star, and I’m the football star. You shouldn’t be hanging out with those goth freaks. You should be doing my homework, waxing my truck in a bikini, and practicing with me on that bare-foot and pregnant trophy wife future of yours.”

That was enough.

“No.” Sagan raised her chin, prepared to stand up for everything. “I love her. Tell my parents. See if I care. They love me, and they love her. I know they’ll accept it. Even if they didn’t, not you or anyone else will tell me who I can and can’t love.”

Justin stepped closer so that he loomed over Sagan. He put his face in hers and jeered, “Sure, you can say that about your own parents, but are you willing to put Rayne through that with hers? Can you guarantee they’ll be as accepting? After all, maybe they saw themselves with a dozen grandchildren in their future, and you’ll be robbing them of that.”

No…

Was Justin right?

Amid this, Sagan’s instincts beckoned for disassociation—distraction—desperately asking for a way out of this.

Sagan turned her back on him so she could stare under the bleachers. In the worst moment of her entire life, Sagan saw something she must’ve imagined.

Korac.

He was leaning against a support column in jeans and a black t-shirt. A ball-cap hid his hair which was tied back from his face, but she’d recognize those cheekbones anywhere.

A hallucination.

Sagan was seeing Korac to help her through this hard decision. Justin was the universe’s way of punishing her for falling in love with Korac and keeping him a secret. For lying to her parents about the invasion, and for feeling happiest in her best friend’s arms. A girl’s arms.

Resolute, Sagan turned, faced her worst nightmare, and asked, “What time should I be ready on Friday?”

“Six. Don’t bother wearing panties, and if you say ‘no,’ I’ll publicize your lesbo affair to the entire town. Starting with the Callahan’s bookstore.”

Hell.

All these secrets had brought Sagan to Hell, and Justin was the devil.