Huntress, Black Dawn, Witchlight by L.J. Smith

How could I realize I meant so much to him…?
    And who would have thought it would mean so much to her when she found out? She was stunned, overcome—but something inside her was singing, too.
    She was happy about it. She could feel something bubbling up that she hadn’t even realized was there; a wild and heady delight that seemed to shoot out to the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet.
    Morgead, she whispered with her mind.
    She could sense him, but for once he didn’t answer. She felt his sudden fear, his own desire to run and hide. He hadn’t meant to show her these things. They were being forced out of him by the same power that was dragging at Jez.
    I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look, she thought to him. I’ll go away….
    No. Suddenly he wasn’t hiding anymore. No, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay.
    Jez felt herself flow toward him, helplessly. The truth was that she didn’t know if she could turn away even if he’d wanted her to. She could feel his mind touching hers—she could taste the very essence of his soul. And it made her tremble.
    This was like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was so strange…but so wonderful. A pleasure that she couldn’t have dreamed of. To be this close, and to be getting closer, like fire and bright darkness merging…To feel her mind opening to him…
    And then the distant echo of fear, like an animal screaming a warning.
    Are you insane? This is Morgead. Let him see your soul…pry open your innermost secrets…and you won’t live long enough to regret it. He’ll tear your throat out the instant he finds out…
    Jez flinched wildly from the voice. She didn’t want to resist the pull to Morgead any longer. But fear was shivering through her, poisoning the warmth and closeness, freezing the edges of her mind. And she knew that the voice was the only rationality left in her.
    Do you want to die? it asked her point-blank.
    Jez, Morgead was saying quietly. What’s wrong? Why won’t you let it happen?
    Not just you dying, the voice said. All those others. Claire and Aunt Nan and Uncle Jim and Ricky. Hugh…
    Something white-hot flickered through her. Hugh. Whom she loved. Who couldn’t fight for himself. She hadn’t even thought of him since she’d entered Morgead’s mind—and that terrified her.
    How could she have forgotten him? For the last year Hugh had represented everything good to her. He’d awakened feelings in her that she’d never had before. And he was the one person she would never betray.
    Jez, Morgead said.
    Jez did the only thing she could think of. She threw an image at him, a picture to stir his memories. A picture of her walking out, leaving the gang, leaving him.
    It wasn’t a real picture, of course. It was a symbol.
    It was bait.
    And she felt it hit Morgead’s mind and clash there, and strike memories that flew like sparks.
    The first meeting of the gang with her not there. Questions. Puzzlement. All of them searching for her, trying to find a hint of her unique Power signature on the streets. At first laughing as they called for her, making it a game, then the laughter turning into annoyance as she stayed missing. Then annoyance turning into worry.
    Her uncle Bracken’s house. The gang crowded on the doorstep with Morgead in front. Uncle Bracken looking lostand sad. “I don’t know where she is. She just—disappeared.” And worry turning into gut-wrenching fear. Fear and anger and sorrow and betrayal.
    If she wasn’t dead, then she’d abandoned him. Just like everyone else. Just like his mother.
    And that grief and fury building, both perfectly balanced because Morgead didn’t know which was the truth. But always with the knowledge, either way, that the world was cold because she was gone.
    And then…her appearing in his room today. Obviously alive. Insultingly healthy. And unforgivably casual as she told him he would never know why she’d left.
    Jez felt Morgead’s outrage swelling up, a dark wave inside