by Wendy Cole
He tilted his head over his shoulder, and another smirk lifted his mouth. “Vincent.” He slowed just enough to allow me to catch up to his side. “You’ve a very pretty aura, by the way.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Just because I’d chosen to follow him, didn’t mean I believed a word he said. “You look just like the guy on the green bean can.”
He barked a laugh and turned his gaze back towards the road. “I have a feeling you’re going to regret not filtering your words with me, child.” His smile was secretive, his humor palpable.
I chose not to respond and instead focused on the view in front. The further we walked, the more nothing that came along to greet me. “How far is it?” I asked in exasperation.
“Not much further now.” He kept his pace, seeming unfazed by the lengthy trip.
“Can’t we just teleport?”
He turned to look at me, and one of the most condescending eyebrows I’d ever seen lifted upon his face. “Don’t you sound spoiled?”
Spoiled? “I’m not spoiled! I just don’t understand, if what you say is true, why we’d walk when we can just poof ourselves over there.”
He snorted. “You make it sound so easy. It’s not. Teleporting alone is hard. Teleporting with a human is like climbing up the side of a building with no tether and a hundred-pound weight on your back.”
My brows furrowed as I thought over his words, and Vincent must have noticed.
“Brady makes a lot of things look easy.”
We reached the peak of a hill, and on the other side, a house came into view. My eyes zeroed in on it the moment I caught sight. It stuck out, a hovel, barely standing, but also very much normal. No bright neon made up the dilapidated structure, making it look photoshopped into the otherwise colorful backdrop. “Why are my clothes yellow, but that house isn’t?”
Vincent once again tilted a condescending look at me. “Because your clothes sit right against your skin, and your aura stretches further than that.”
“Oh.” My words died as more houses came into view, each new one better than the last, all fixed in a straight line along the solitary road. “Why do they keep getting nicer? Why are they so separated from each other?”
“Magic is monetary in this world. The more magic one has, the nicer one lives. It’s our class structure. Those back there are the lower class, this is the middle, and those up ahead,” he pointed to where the buildings grew taller, “That’s the upper class. That’s where we’re going.”
My heart jumped at his statement. So close. Any moment and I’d either be fully dead or brought back to life. My pace increased in spite of the danger, and Vincent simply picked up his own steps to meet mine.
When we made it past all the smaller houses, I immediately knew which one was his. It was huge, surpassing all the others, and everything I’d imagine a king would live in.
I darted forward, up the steps and to the front door, then paused to look back at Vincent.
He nodded his head. “Open it. He’s inside. Up the stairs, door at the end of the hall.”
I only hesitated for a moment before my own desperate hope took over. I yanked the door open, then sprinted for the staircase, not bothering to check for danger nor pausing to look around.
My feet tripped over themselves more than once as I climbed the multiple steps, and the hallway at the top seemed to stretch on for miles.
The door was there, just like he said, slightly ajar and calling me like a mirage, a dream that I’d wake from the moment I pushed it open.
But I didn’t wake up. With shaking hands, I lightly pressed the heavy cherry oak, swinging it open with a creak, and revealing a sight I’d never thought I’d see again.
Brady lay just a few feet away, covered in a set of angel white sheets, and the sight of his chest moving with life-giving breath healed my broken heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“Brady.” The word was a whisper, barely audible past the emotions clogging my throat. He was there, alive and breathing.
I didn’t think. I just rushed forward until I was standing over top of him, and the moment I knew for certain he was really alive, my body collapsed. My knees hit the floor, sobs racking my frame, only this time, they weren’t tortured. They were joyous, full of relief that was so intense I couldn’t stop.
Once the floodgates opened, there was no closing it. I continued to cry, huddled up against the bed that he still slept in, face buried into my knees in a fight not to wake him.
One large hand circled my arm and yanked me upwards. Brady lifted me from the floor with one arm and pulled me onto the bed, then rolled until we were lying face to face, both of his arms circling me in a blanket of security.
His eyes were soft, yet concerned, but I noticed his wince as he settled us down. It’d hurt him to do that, but no sooner did I catch the evidence of the fact than he hid it away. “Hello, beautiful.” His voice was raw, another testament to his weakened state.
I lifted my hands to cup either side of his face and pressed my lips to his. “I thought you were dead,” I choked. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Brady held me tighter, then his attention shifted as he began to run his hands along my hips, up my back, and across my shoulder blades. His jaw clenched. “You’re too thin.”
“I couldn’t eat.” My voice broke.
Brady heaved a sigh, then pulled me into his chest. “Nothing is going to stop me from having you, not even death.” He kissed the top of my head, then my temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it back. I’m sorry I let this happen.” His muscles tensed more and more with each apology, guilt evident in his tone. “It was stupid and reckless to decide to go visit your mother.”
I lifted my hand above my head and placed it over his mouth. “I’m okay.”
He heaved a sigh, and I felt him relax. The mood shifted as calm fell over our entwined forms. We lay there for what felt like an eternity, basking in the peaceful silence and warmth of each other's skin. I could feel my heart healing, and each breath grew easier as he held me. It was him: his presence, his touch, that gaping hole inside my soul absorbing and repairing itself.
Brady finally broke the silence, his voice deep and smooth and far less raw than it’d been when he first woke. “Did my father take care of you?”
My eyes widened. His father? That was his father?
Brady leaned back and held me out to study. His eyes glittered as he took in my panicked expression. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” I squeaked. I tried not to think the million oh fucks warring within my mind for fear he’d hear them. His father.
“She was a joy,” Vincent suddenly said as he walked through the bedroom door.
My stomach dropped. Oh fuck.
Brady’s eyes shot to me, his lip twitching, then he looked to his father’s dry expression, and back again. “What did you do?” he asked once more. His eyes were dancing, just like they did anytime there was a possibility for mischief.
I gave him a flat look. “I didn’t do anything.”
His father snorted. “Is that so?”
Brady turned that expectant expression away from me and over to Vincent. “What did she do?”
His father smiled, that same smile I’d seen a thousand times, and I didn’t know how I hadn’t noticed it before. He and Brady were almost identical, his face just a little more worn, a little further aged. Now that the two were together, I could see just how alike they were. “She threw a roll of toilet paper at my face, then called me,” he paused before adding the last word like it tasted bad, “shitty.”
Brady barked a laugh, then clutched his chest and winced.
My heart skipped a beat at his pain, and I grabbed his arm. “That’s enough.” I glared at Vincent. “Don’t say anymore or he’ll hurt himself.”
Brady choked. “There’s more?”
Vincent smirked. “Oh yeah. She also told me I looked like the guy off the green bean can,” he mimicked my voice, very poorly. “
And apparently, I suck at teleporting because you’ve spoiled her.”
Brady broke, loud booming laughter spilled out of his still weakened body, and between each one he’d flinch as if he’d been hit.
I gripped his arm and shook it. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Brady took a deep breath when he heard the panic in my voice, then slowly began to calm. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I didn’t know who he was! I thought he’d come to kill me!”
Vincent had the decency to look sheepish as Brady’s expression morphed into disbelief. “You didn’t tell her?”
“I told her I was taking her to you. It didn’t really matter who I was, and besides, if she’d known, then I wouldn’t have been able to see what kind of woman you’d gotten. She would have filtered herself to try and impress me.”
I snorted. “With what? It’s a little hard to try and impress something that’s magical when you can barely manage to go to the store without almost dying.”
Brady’s grip tightened at my word choice.
Vincent smirked. “But you did anyway, didn’t you?”
My brow furrowed. “I what? I swear,” I directed at Brady, “That was it. The rest of the time I was good. Didn’t say a word.”
Brady gave me a smirk to match his father’s. “He’s saying you impressed him.”
My eyes shot to Vincent, who met my widened eyes with a mock impersonation of the same expression. “I know. It’s shocking.” He barked a laugh, then shook his head and walked away.
I gaped after him until Brady pulled my attention back to him. “There’s my little badass,” he murmured, burying his head into my neck and placing a kiss against my skin. “I should have known it wouldn’t be easy for him to get you here.”
I huffed a breath, but his words caused a warmth to spread through my chest. “What happens now, Brady? Is it over?”
He stiffened, his grip on my body tightening as he continued to hide his face from view.
I nudged his shoulder. “Brady?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m handling it.”
“Bullshit.” I nudged him again. “I want to know everything. I deserve to. It’s my life too.”
He lifted up, his expression guarded. “I don’t want you worrying about it. I said I’ll handle it.”
If he weren’t still so weak, I would have hit him. “You don’t get to do that, Brady! I’m not some weak little girl you have to shelter. Not knowing is worse than knowing.”
He cut me off. “Owen’s dead.”
I sucked in a breath at the news, and hundreds of childhood memories lost their power in an instant. The monster was gone. Finally gone, and all thanks to Brady.
Brady didn’t pause to notice my reaction. “The council made an announcement that any jinni suspected of conspiring against their judgement would be apprehended and punished. His followers have dispersed without him around to fuel their panic.”
“Panic?” Why would they panic? It wasn’t like we were trying to kill them.
Brady settled back against his pillow. “We’ve been having an issue with our numbers for years. As a race, we’re dwindling.” The muscle along his jaw jumped, and he looked up to the ceiling. “Our men outnumber our women five to one. There aren’t enough females among us. It’s been a common concern for a long time, but having a human mate with one of us has started an uproar. While they aren’t rallying at this moment, there are still murmurs, and the panic hasn’t left.” He turned to look at me. “It’s fine now, but the sooner I get well, the sooner I can take you somewhere more secure.”
I thought over his words, and over the fact that the human population was exceeding its limits every day. “So, they worry that my species will—”
“Some worry that we’ll be made extinct, that the magic will leave us as generations pass.” He turned and pulled me close, fixing his eyes level with mine. “But I don’t think that. I think that this is mother nature’s way of preserving us. We couldn’t go on the way we were, and I have enough magic that any child we have will most likely still possess a great deal of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this sooner?”
Brady ran his hand up my spine. “It’s my job to take care of you, Sweetheart. Like I said, I’ll handle it. You just be here with me. That’s all I need you to do.”
I shook away his words the moment he spoke them. That wasn’t me. I didn’t want to sit on the sidelines while he took on the world. “So, it isn’t over?”
“It’s not going to be, but you’re safe. We’re safe. Word got out about the death of Owen and the jinni he’d brought with him. Needless to say, people will be far more reluctant to try anything for a while.”
I chewed my lip. “I love you, Brady. Please don’t do that again. It almost took you away from me.”
He kissed my head, then pulled it to lay upon his chest. “Sleep now.”
I couldn’t stop the darkness from taking me.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
When I awoke again, it was like an old version of myself had arrived in my sleep and taken over. I was clean, really clean, and the heavy scent of lavender clinging to my skin reminded me of how long it’d been since I’d taken an actual shower.
Brady must have done this.
I looked down at my clothes, loose pants and a tank top, completely new.
“You’re awake,” Brady said, pulling my attention to him. His eyes still held an overwhelming amount of concern, which didn’t make sense, considering I wasn’t the one who’d been injured.
I stretched towards him and lightly draped an arm over his chest. “I am. I would have stayed that way if you hadn’t knocked me out.” I stared at his face, still soaking in the relief that he was really here with me. “I’ve done nothing but sleep for a week. I think I’m all good in that department.”
He smiled softly and pushed the hair away from my face. “I need to feed you.”
He moved to sit up, his face contorting the moment he did.
“Don’t.” I tried to push him back down. “You’re still hurt.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m fine, Sweetheart. I won’t break, trust me.”
I hit the mattress as he turned to hang his legs off the side of the bed. All I could do was watch, breath bated, chewing the inside of my cheek as he placed both feet on the floor and stood.
He didn’t stumble, but his muscles were stiff, and he kept his back to me. After a long moment of him standing completely still, as if readjusting to the weight of his own body, he turned his head back to look at me and held out a hand. “C’mon, beautiful. Let’s get you fed.”
Guilt filled me. He was doing it for me, and I knew nothing I could say would stop him. So instead of wasting time arguing, I decided the sooner I ate, the sooner he’d lay back down. I crawled to the edge and stood beside him.
Brady draped an arm over my shoulder, and I didn’t comment on the amount of weight he placed on me, nor the slow pace we kept as we walked out of the bedroom and all the way downstairs.
He turned the corner at the bottom and led us into a kitchen.
It was then that I saw her, light blue like the sky. She turned away from whatever she was doing, and a hand flew up to her mouth. She rushed forward, pulling out a chair from the small breakfast table, then lowering Brady into it.
He shot me a wry grin. “Amelia, this is my mother.”
I’d already known, but I wasn’t sure how. Nothing about her resembled the man beside me, nor his father. While both of them held an undertone of mischief and chaos, the woman before me exuded absolute calm.
She didn’t speak, but the smile on her face was soft as she stepped forward and stood directly in front of me. My words locked into my throat at the way she moved, like water flowing down a stream, each motion fluid and graceful.
Her eyes darted over my face, inspecting, then both her hands came up to settle along the sides of my head. I stood motionless as her eyes closed,
and I could feel the odd sensation of that same calming energy filter through my mind.
Brady watched the pair of us closely, then offered me a reassuring smile when my eyes met his.
His mother’s smile widened when she took a step back. A pair of shining sky blue eyes reopened and locked me in their depths. “You’re perfect,” she said, her voice just as soothing as the rest of her.
She turned to her son and placed a hand on his shoulder.
He grabbed her hand, then kissed the side of it as he held his opposite out to me. “Sit with me, Sweetheart.”
I started to comply but realized I’d yet to speak. This was his mother. I had to say something, not just stand there like an idiot. “It’s nice to meet you—” I didn’t know her name, so I left it at that.
Her expression warmed, so much so that her light appeared to brighten. “I’m Evania,” she said. “Please, have a seat. Brady is becoming impatient for you to eat, I think.” She winked.
My eyes shot to Brady. He was still smiling wryly and hadn’t spoken a word. My brows furrowed as I pulled out the chair and watched his mother walk away.
“She can sense emotions. It’s part of the magic she was born with.” He offered me a smile and gripped my hand across the table.
“She’s so calming,” I said softly, watching her as she floated around the kitchen, blue light flowing from her hands as she busied herself preparing food. She didn’t conjure it, but after my conversations with his father, I didn’t question why.
“She is, as are you.”
My eyes shot to his and widened. “Me? Calming?” I snorted a laugh.
He leaned back, humor clear on his face. “It’s true. Ask my mother.”
I looked back over just as she was approaching, but I ignored his request to question her. Evania sat three plates around the table, then took a seat on the other side of her son. She smiled encouragingly at me.
I studied the offering, recognizing none of it. One side of the plate held what could have been fruit, but not like I’d ever seen before. Bright red chunks speckled with green. Right beside it sat a wrap of sorts, filled with fluffy white that could only be described as cloud-like.
