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at Ryan. “Earrings and a flower? What did you do? Make out with a nun? Because that is some guilt you must be working off.”
    He ignored me and leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on my lips. “They look great. Now, lunch?”
    â€œI’ll ask Cade.”
    As I wound my way into the back room, I thought about how odd it was to get a present from a boyfriend. I’d never really had a boyfriend before. I barely had friends. Cade, Lock, Ezra, and Duncan, sure—but Cade is more family than friend, and Lock, Ezra, and Duncan fall into the same category as far as I’m concerned. Of course, Cade is always at the top of the list because he feeds me on a regular basis.
    And I guess Sylvie is a friend, in some respects, though I have to keep a lot from her. She doesn’t know there’s anything different about me, Lock, and Ezra. It’s safer that way.
    Ryan is not my friend. We go on dates, we hold hands, and we’ve steamed up our fair share of car windows, but I wouldn’t list him as my buddy. We would never sit in our pajamas and watch movies or get BFF bracelets. You can’t be true friends with someone when you’re lying to them all the time, not really. And I was one big walking secret. Our whole relationship was like a game to see how many times I could play the Sick Grandma card to cancel on a date when I was really out doing Venus’s dirty work.
    My mom had taught me what it meant to love a firebug. Everything was fine as long as you kept it light. No delving into major relationships. Avoid all complications, especially the pitter-patter of little feet. Once my mom figured out she was pregnant, she was vapor. If the Coterie found out, they’d stake their claim on me. Best-case scenario, I would be a firebug and forced to work for the Coterie my entire life. Worst case, I was human and a bargaining chip, a walking weakness to be used against my mother. Mom had already spent most of her young life working for the Coterie. Working for Venus. One unplanned pregnancy was all it took for her to break free—the idea of me having to suffer the same fate was too much. So she shook her tail feathers and made for the hills.
    But it wasn’t just for me. My mother had worried that if I took after her, Venus would make life hell for my dad, too, forcing him to become a breeder. Venus the undead mafia kingpin (or should that be queenpin?) would own him.
    The firebug gene is recessive. So to produce a firebug, both parents need to carry the gene. My dad turned out to be a carrier—he had the gene but couldn’t actually produce fire. Plain ol’ human. That much my mom had told me. She hadn’t known if he was a carrier or not, but she couldn’t take the chance of waiting around to find out. I think if I had been born human, she would have left me with my dad so he could raise me. She wouldn’t have been able to keep me or let the Coterie know I was her daughter—so she would have walked away. I have no doubt. Anything to protect the ones she loved.
    It’s easier if you look at it like it’s a disease. My mom was full-blown, while my father had the potential lying dormant inside his DNA. If they’d had more kids, some could have been firebugs, some could have been carriers, and some might have been just human. Normal.
    Lucky me, I won the genetic crapshoot. Full-blown, just like my mom. That’s one reason that we’re so rare: even if both parents possess the gene, the chances that their offspring would be firebugs aren’t very high. The other reason we’re rare is that we don’t seem to have a very long life expectancy. We have the Coterie to thank for that, or groups like them. Poachers. The Coterie wanted us because they wanted to use us to their own ends. Living weapons. Mom told me Hitler tried his damnedest to track down our kind as weapons for the Third Reich. Too bad Owen wasn’t alive then. Ol’ Tiny