I hobbled around to face him. “I’m fine.”
But of course, he didn’t bother listening to me and had already turned on Lincoln, shoving him in the chest. “You’re supposed to protect her! Not bring her back in pieces!”
Lincoln stepped into Phoenix’s space, still managing to keep a supportive arm around me. “She’s already in pieces!” he growled, his nose almost touching Phoenix’s. “And we’re the ones who did it to her. Or have you forgotten that part?”
Phoenix’s jaw clenched at Lincoln’s words, but his eyes flashed to mine just long enough for me to glimpse his pain and guilt.
“Phoenix, I’m okay,” I said with a sigh.
“What happened?” Gray asked, moving forward and serving stern looks to Lincoln and Phoenix, which they both ignored.
“Exiles,” Lincoln answered, still glaring at Phoenix. “Ten of them.”
Gray snorted. “That all,” he said, pulling me away from Lincoln, who let my arm slide from his as they walked me up the stairs.
“You want me to carry you?” Gray asked.
I saw Lincoln, at my side, shake his head to himself with an almost smile as I shot Gray a furious look. Phoenix stood by the doorway, also smirking.
Gray raised his free hand in surrender. “It was just an offer,” he mumbled.
I’m no victim. If my legs work, they carry me.
Steph was suddenly on the other side of me, nudging an increasingly frustrated Lincoln out of her way.
I blinked. “When did you get here?” I asked, worried that she’d been in this city alone.
“They helicoptered me in about twenty minutes ago. Is that a bullet wound?”
“Yep,” I said.
Steph shook her head and tried to keep her expression calm. She knew me, knew I hated the fuss or looking weak. Lincoln was right: some things never do change.
“Well, Griffin will be appalled,” she said.
I smiled, remembering how Griffin felt about the fighting code. “Speaking of?”
They moved me through the front door and toward the bedroom I was sharing with Zoe.
“He’s fine. He’s on his way to New York and he’ll be heading this way once he’s checked in on Nyla.”
“I’m glad he’s on his way there. He should stay with her.”
Steph rolled her eyes. “Do you really expect him to leave the fight to everyone else?”
Enough said.
Gray helped me ease myself down onto the edge of the bed. I looked up at everyone hovering around me, including half a dozen overgrown male Grigori crowding the small room. I was surprised to note that Carter had pushed his way into the throng.
How have I managed to go from having no one to rooms packed with bodies in just a few days?
My shoulder was burning me alive, but I settled a bored expression on them.
“I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m fine. I’ll be good as gold when you all give me a little privacy and I can have a soak in the bath.”
Gray and Carter nodded, grabbing Ray on their way and pulling him out of the room.
Lincoln remained with Phoenix hovering by the doorway, somehow managing to ignore one another. I sighed and looked at my watch. It was 10 p.m.
“Lincoln, I’ll help her. I’ll call you if we need you,” Steph said gently.
Best. Friend. Ever.
His eyes cut to hers, as hard as steel, but then they softened and he nodded. “I’ll be in my room going over plans for tomorrow. We’ll move out for recon at first light.”
I nodded and he headed out the door, looking back briefly. “You know where I am if you need me.”
I heard him walk down the hall and a door close.
“Phoenix, you too,” I said. “I’m fine. I just need to get cleaned up.”
He studied my face for lies.
I sighed. “Please. And promise me you won’t leave the safe house tonight.”
He tilted his head. “I’ll stay here tonight. We need to talk about Sammael.”
I kicked off my boots. “We’ll talk as soon as I’m healed.”
“That might take a while,” he said before disappearing down the hall.
Whatever.
I slumped back onto my bed and Steph closed the door, giving us some privacy.
“Okay, what gives?” she asked, hands on hips.
I closed my eyes, trying to breathe successfully. “We were attacked. Everything was fine and I was down to the last one when he pulled a gun. I was on the ground and I thought Lincoln was going to throw himself in front of me,” I explained.
“Totally understandable Lincoln behavior,” Steph agreed.
I nodded. “Right. But then, I asked him to trust me, and he…he stood back and let me fight. I could’ve died.”
We were both silent. She knew what I was saying, what a huge thing it was.
“He loves you, Vi,” Steph said eventually, her own voice thick with emotion.
She was a romantic. I knew better. “It doesn’t mean everything will be okay, Steph. Too much has happened.”
She plonked down on the mattress beside me, taking little care to avoid my injuries even when I winced. She put a hand on my knee.
“You’re scared. I get it. You’ve been through so much. No one will ever understand what you’ve been forced to face and sacrifice. But in spite of the fact you’ve spent the past two years running from him…He. Loves. You. And, honey, that’s not his curse like you make it seem. It’s his existence. His choice. And he’s entitled to it.” She squeezed my knee. “At some point, you’re going to have to let yourself live and take the chances that everyone else does. And that’s not because you’re Grigori, Vi; that’s because you’re human.”
She blew out a breath and flung her hands in the air before letting them flop back down. “Everything is so huge with you. Big moments. Life-threatening sacrifices. World-changing triumphs. But love isn’t like that. Love is all the small moments. It’s what fills the quiet.” She sat up suddenly, looking down at me. “Do yourself a favor and just sit in the quiet for a while and hear what fills it.”
She stood up and walked to the door. She looked at me and smiled. “And then do us all a favor and listen, because Lincoln isn’t the only one who misses you.”
She closed the door behind her. Desperate to concentrate on something else, I quickly refocused on healing my bullet wound, but I only made it far enough to just close the wound. It would need a lot more attention, along with my hand and the rest of me, later, but Steph’s words had hit hard, and driven by some crazy compulsion, I was suddenly shoving my feet back in my boots and slipping down the stairs. I was grateful yet again that my defensive shields helped keep me beneath Phoenix’s and Lincoln’s radars. Getting caught sneaking out would not go down well, but I needed this.
I grabbed an overcoat hanging by the door, to cover the blood more than keep me warm, and snuck back out onto the street.
Walking aimlessly, I eventually hit the riverbank and slumped onto a deserted bench overlooking the dark Mississippi. It was surprisingly quiet, and though I could see lights on the other side of the river and hear the far-off sounds of nighttime shenanigans, I was alone save the odd passerby.
I pulled out my phone and dialed, unsure if the call would connect.
Evelyn answered on the third ring.
“Violet?” she said, not because she saw my name on the caller ID but because I was the only person who had that number. Already, I could hear her instinctive concern.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I’m okay. I just…Spence got himself into a bit of trouble and I’m trying to get him out of it,” I explained, leaving out all the added extras that would only worry her and Dad.
“Where are you?”
I grimaced. “New Orleans.”
Silence met me at the
other end and I could picture her lips pressed tightly together as she processed all the possibilities. Finally, she sighed.
“How bad?” she asked, though her tone said she already had a good idea.
I swallowed. “Lincoln’s here,” I said, avoiding her question and answering it at the same time.
“Oh. How are you holding up?”
I took a deep breath. “Mom, why was one of your conditions when you agreed to let me become Grigori that my partner be from the Power rank?” She’d had two conditions, and though I knew why she’d asked to be tied to Lilith’s life force, I’d never known why this other condition had been so important.
Mom sighed. “I’ve been wondering when you would finally ask that. Are you sure you want to hear the answer? Now? Maybe you should ask me again when you get yourself out of whatever you’ve landed yourself into there first.”
“Tell me.”
After a pause, I heard a screeching noise and could tell she was dragging a chair toward her. She took a deep breath. “I chose that rank because I knew that Powers are loyal to a fault. They’re self-sacrificing, and as a result, of all the angelic ranks, Powers are the least likely to exile. More than anything, they are territorial and the strongest of fighters. Their inclination to protect is ingrained in them, and I knew that it would be an asset in your partner.”
My heart clenched, absorbing her words as yet another piece fell into place. “You knew he’d die for me.”
“Yes. I did.”
I took a few moments to take it all in, Mom allowing me the time. Finally, I sighed. “Do you know of an exile called Sammael?” I asked.
“He’s an exile of light. Very powerful. He had ties with Lilith and we were aware of him, but…I’m sorry Violet, my memory…” She trailed off and I could sense her frustration. She hadn’t known she would pay this price to become wholly human again, that her memory of her Grigori years would be so greatly reduced. But even so, we both knew she had made the right decision.
“It’s okay, Mom. I just thought I’d ask.”
“I know this much, Violet—I can feel it so deeply and truly that it goes beyond any memories that might have been taken: you do not want to go up against him alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I replied, my voice tight.
“I’m sure you’re not. But are you sure?”
I said good-bye, promising I’d call again soon, and tilted my head back, closing my eyes. Breathing in and out slowly, I listened to the rhythm—to myself.
When I felt the urge, for once I didn’t fight it. I lowered my shields a touch, letting the emotion I worked so hard to keep at bay slither into me.
God, it hurts so much!
I wanted to stop, and yet, I wanted to let go too.
Concentrating on my breathing, I kept going until I found a kind of medium that I could manage. And then, again, I listened.
Almost immediately, I smelled it.
Strange, the things that mean the most.
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know it wasn’t a New Orleans smell. No.
It smells like ho—
It was the smell of Lincoln’s warehouse. Basil. And the sounds…Cooking. Glasses clinking. A coffee machine steaming.
I could feel myself smiling all the way to my core. I remembered every little detail about the many days I’d sat at his kitchen bar and watched him cook. The way he’d prepared fresh meals for me and insisted I eat more than two-minute noodles, but also that he’d always kept a packet of my favorite chocolate cookies in the cupboard even though he never ate them.
The memories fell like a landslide—running every day. Feeling strong. Needing his friendship. Trusting him. The late-night talks. Dreaming of more. The confidence being around him gave me. The hand holding. The smiles. The honesty.
And I remembered the feelings of betrayal when I found out what I was and that he’d always known. I’d been so tough on him. I was young. I knew that now. If I could go back and do things differently, tell him I understood and not hurt him, I would.
Finally, I remembered the promises—him to me, that we would find a way. And then there was my promise to him. The one I told myself was impossible to keep. The one night we’d made love…I could still feel his fingers combing my hair as we lay in the bed.
“I want you to know: you’re it, everything I want.”
I remembered how his words had morphed into a long, toe-curling kiss and then he’d said: “No matter what happens tomorrow—no matter what—tonight was exactly what I wanted and for all the right reasons. For you. Because I love you. Promise me, Vi. Promise me you will always remember that.”
And I’d stared back into his intense eyes, and I’d promised.
My eyes opened slowly and I found myself staring at something floating in the river that had not been there before.
I stared at it for a time, taking note, before I stumbled to my feet, propelled by a force that was beyond me. Relieved when I hit the cover of the streets and roaming people again, I pulled in a trembling breath and wrapped a hand around my stomach.
I was broken.
I loved him so much, but I was so afraid that it would be me who would cause his end.
Tears slipped from my eyes. I couldn’t stop them. And suddenly, I was running.
Yes, I’m broken.
But he loves me anyway. And he wants to save me. I know he does.
And I love him. So much I can barely contain it.
My feet moved faster. I knew. I knew now.
I love him enough…
I burst through the gates, waving at the guards so they knew it was me as I threw myself through the front door and took the steps three at a time until I barged right through his bedroom door, skidding to a halt, panting like a crazy woman.
Lincoln was leaning against his windowsill, looking over papers. He looked up, startled and then just wary.
The silence beat hard around us.
Finally, making the choice that was more daunting than jumping off any cliff…I leapt.
“I need you to fix me,” I blurted out.
Because I love him enough…to let him.
His eyes darkened as he put down the papers and took a tentative step toward me. “Your injuries?” he inquired.
I shook my head slightly. “All of me.”
His breath stuttered and he slowly took another step. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?” he asked, looking around as if expecting to see more than just me. “Did the world end while I was taking a shower?”
I shook my head.
“Well, something huge must have happened to change your mind.”
My heart was thudding, trying to jump-start. “Actually, it was the quiet. I found my life in the quiet.” Tears welled in my eyes. “And all I could see and hear and smell and feel was you. Us.”
Seconds felt like hours as he stared at me, straight into my soul, which belonged to him. I waited, my heart thumping hard. But when he moved, it wasn’t to me; he strode straight toward the door and disappeared.
My hand reached out for the nearby desk to steady myself; without it, I would have collapsed to my knees. I heard talking out in the hall, but everything was a distant buzz compared to the deafening truth from which I could no longer hide.
He doesn’t want me.
And I couldn’t even blame him. I’d left. I was the one who had taken the knife and severed the ties.
I was having difficulty breathing; my throat had tightened and my vision was blurring at the edges. None of that mattered.
Then suddenly the door was open again and I didn’t need to look up to know it was him.
I cleared my throat, hoping I could at least make it out of his room before falling apart. “I’ll leave you to get some rest,” I stammered,
my voice sounding as hollow as I felt. Lincoln ignored me, and I looked up in time to see him push the door closed and turn the lock.
He paused, still facing away from me, his palm pressed flat against the door. “I won’t go back again,” he said, his voice gravelly but also threatening in its own way.
Slowly he turned to face me while I processed the fact that he was here, the meaning of his words, the locked door. His eyes fixed on mine and burned with such intensity, I almost couldn’t get the words out. But I did. “Neither will I.”
His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe I was lucid. He took a cautious step toward me. “Say you want this.”
“I want this.”
“Say you need us as much as I do.”
“More.”
“Impossible,” he said instantly. He took in a sharp breath. Another step. Our feet were toe to toe.
“This will be for life. For eternity, human and beyond. More than any commitment, than any marriage. Violet, are you ready to marry me?”
I swallowed, trying to catch my breath, because he was so close. So close to touching me. “As long as we’re together, I’m ready for everything.”
Breathing hard, he leaned in, our lips almost touching, his fingers moving through my hair as his hand wrapped around the back of my head. “Tell me you’ll never run away from me again.”
He wasn’t asking me to promise nothing bad would ever happen or that I would walk away from every battle. We knew those promises could not be made.
“Never,” I swore, and then I voiced the words that neither one of us could ask the other for. “I forgive you,” I said, relinquishing every last piece of me.
His eyes seemed to soften and intensify at the same time.
“I forgive you too,” he said right before he pulled me closer, his lips crashing into mine. My cold soul shuddered with desire, and hope filled me for the first time in two years.
Somehow I managed to pull back enough to confess, “I’m not sure it will work. I don’t know if I can ever be okay again. You need to know what you might be signing up for. My soul…the coldness…it might be too late. It—”
He put a finger over my lips, silencing me.
Empower Page 24
