Excerpt of Larkstorm by Dawn Rae Miller

Lark? Are you okay?" He stands in the shadow of the trees, hidden from view.

I shake my head and hope he'll go away. I don't want him to see me like this.

"You need to leave, Beck. You can't be around me."

He ignores my order and crosses the expanse of sand. "I need to talk to you."

"I don't think this is a good idea. They're probably already looking for you." I hide my face from him.

"Doubt anyone is looking for me," he says. "They sent me to find you."

So that's how it is. Beck's here to do what I know he has to: send me away. Tell me he doesn't want me.

He's here to tell me things we both know are lies.

I twist the chain of my necklace around my fingers and wish this moment away. Even though I know he doesn't mean it, I still don't want to hear those words. I take a deep breath and prepare to have my heart ripped out.

But instead of doing what he needs to, Beck sits next to me. His warmth envelops me and pushes some of the sadness and worry away.

"Not the best day, is it?" His voice is heavy, but there's not a trace of sorrow.

"You could say that." I stare out into the night. Tears stain my cheeks and I pray he doesn't notice. I hug my knees to my chest and rest my head on them.

Beck's hand strokes my hair. He tugs at the ends and wraps them around his fingers. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of being close to him again.

With that one gesture, I realize he's not going to do it. Beck won't tell me to leave. He won't lie to me.

I turn my head toward him, my hair falling across my face. Through the strands, I study him, trying to discern whether or not it's really him or Henry again. His eyes look hopeful, not sad.

Not at all worried. I sigh. Only Beck would be optimistic when everything seems hopeless.

He's making this worse.

All my life, I've turned to him when I haven't known what to do. But now, it's my turn to lead. I need to be strong and do the right thing: If Beck won't let me go, I'm going to have to make him not want me. I'm going to have to force him away.

I fumble with the clasp of my necklace. When it falls away, I gather it in my hand and force it into his. A faint tingle runs along my skin when my hand brushes against his.

Beck stares at the necklace before clenching it in his fist. He holds it for a moment, closes his eyes, and then drops it into his pocket. When my lip trembles, I realize I'd been hoping he'd refuse it, or maybe even clasp it around my neck again.

"What do you want, Beck?" My flat voice sounds empty, like I feel.

"You."