A sense of desolation rises up inside me, suffocating. I look over my shoulder as if I can see the van through the press of foliage.
I’ve left Miram. I’ve failed her. Failed Cassian.
I blink stinging eyes and tell myself it’s the sudden sunlight. The sweeping, incomprehensible pain hammering my body. Not this invading sorrow for the girl I left behind and what will become of her.
Will’s Land Rover isn’t far. He helps me inside. I prop myself on the passenger seat, mindful to sit forward. It’s impossible to lean back with my wings bound tight.
There’s a flash of light in Will’s hand and I realize he’s holding a knife. He swipes through my wrist ties and I sigh. Except the relief is brief, eclipsed as feeling rushes back into my hands in a searing flood of agony. I moan. Drop my head.
Will hands me a bottle of water and moves to check my back, his fingers gentle on my bare shoulders. I drink deep, noisily, water running down my chin and throat.
Over my gulps, I hear his sharp intake of breath as he saws through the bindings. “You’re hurt.” A curse follows this, humming with an anger I’ve never heard from him. And something else. Regret? Guilt?
“They shot my wing.” The words rumble from my throat. At the guttural sound, I remember he can’t understand me.
He’s quiet for a moment, and then he says quickly, as if remembering the danger encroaching all around us, “It doesn’t look too bad.” His voice is a low rasp and I know he’s lying. It looks bad.
With a final jerk of his hand, my wings spill free. Again, agony. Red-hot as fresh blood rushes back into the abused appendages. The sensation makes the edges of my vision gray, my head spin. I open my mouth wide on a silent scream.
This pain is worse than the last time I was hit, the first time hunters pursued me. The pain was intense then, but I healed. Mom treated the wound . . . Mom. Has she left her room? Did she even notice I was gone? The notes won’t be waiting for her.
Will’s anxious eyes flit over me, and then to the surrounding press of trees. “We’ve got to go . . . Jacinda, can you change?”
He’s asking if I can demanifest.
I nod once. The fear is gone—can’t force me to stay a draki any longer. At the moment there is only pain . . . and more pain to come as I force my wings to merge back inside me. Especially the injured wing. But there is no choice. He can’t drive out of here with me sitting in the front seat in full manifest.
I take a deep gulp and clench the edge of the seat with bloody-slick fingers, burying my draki, pushing it back down, hiding it away.
My features relax and loosen, bones decompressing. My wings shudder, quake from their recent abuse. One wing settles back between my shoulder blades with ease. The other one possesses a life of its own, quivering, resisting the demanifest . . . the pain. Tears stream down my cheeks in steaming paths. I arch my neck, fight the scream that bubbles there.
With my draki finally buried, I breathe again, ease my grip on the dash, and crumple back against the seat.
Will tosses a blanket over me. Even though I was trapped in a hot, airless van for a day, I snuggle into the scratchy fabric, glad for the comfort.
“Jacinda, are you okay?”
I try to still the trembling aftershocks, but the harder I resist, the more fiercely the shudders rack me. “Just get me out of here.” The words sound rusty, unnatural.
With a single nod, he’s around the truck and inside the car in a flash. Soon, he’s guiding the vehicle out of the woods, through the thick trees until he reaches a small country road leading somewhere. Anywhere. Away. Nothing else really matters but that.
I slide weakly in the seat, reach out a hand, and brush the sun-warmed glass of the window. The pads of my fingers squeak as they slide against the smooth surface. Miram.
“Where were you?” I manage to choke out in a scratchy voice.
“I couldn’t come. Out of nowhere, Dad scheduled a hunt. Ever since we spotted you, he’s obsessed over that same area. He paired me up with a group that he sent out on the other side of the mountain. I hoped if I didn’t show up you would just head back home. I didn’t think they would move so close to the pride. God, Jacinda, I’m so sorry.”
I nod numbly. “You didn’t know.”
He releases a heavy breath and I know my words do nothing to alleviate his guilt. If I could say more to make him feel better, I would. I just hurt too much.
I lift my legs up on the seat and hug my knees, thinking about the girl I left behind. Thinking about Cassian’s face when he finds out.
“You couldn’t have helped her,” Will says, reading my thoughts. “She wouldn’t leave.”
“I should have forced her.”
“And caused a scene? You could hardly walk yourself. I practically had to carry you.”
This doesn’t comfort me. I lift my head, relishing the cool breeze of air-conditioning on my face.
“Rest now, Jacinda. You’re safe.”
Safe. The word trips through my mind until I feel so dizzy I have to close my eyes. My lids sink, so incredibly heavy. Bursts of color flash against the solid black, but it’s still better than opening my eyes again and facing the world.
Somewhere between thoughts of Miram and safety and the pain plaguing my body, I surrender to sleep.
I wake in a mostly darkened room. A dull orange light hugs one wall. I sit up, wincing at the pull in my back. With the pain comes reality.
“Will?”
“I’m right here.”
I follow the sound of his disembodied voice and locate him. His dark shape unfolds from a chair in the corner.
“Where are we?”
“In a motel. We’re safe.”
I carefully maneuver myself into a sitting position, biting my lips against the ache of my tender back. Still, it’s nothing compared to before. I can at least move without feeling the overwhelming need to scream. “How’d we get here?”
“You were exhausted. You needed rest. On an actual bed. Food, water—”
At the mention of food, my stomach growls.
“I got you to eat a little before you passed out,” he adds. “Do you remember? You consumed a burrito and soda in less than a minute before dropping into bed. You haven’t moved from that spot. Not even when I cleaned and bandaged your back. I was so worried.”
I shake my head. “I can’t remember any of that.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
I nod. Sleep must have been my body’s way to heal. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Eight, ten hours.”
My entire body tenses. “Ten hours! What time is it?”
“About one in the morning.”
A thick lump rises in my throat. Miram must be far away by now. She didn’t have the luxury of a bed or food. I swing my legs over the bed, my head full of thoughts of reaching her. Saving her. How could I have left her?
“Whoa there.” Will sits beside me on the bed, his warm hand on my shoulder. It’s a touch I remember. A touch I want to lean into, absorb and forget everything else. “Where are you going?”
“To get Miram.” Where else? A chill skates over my bare legs as the sheet slips to the side. I glance down and see that I’m wearing only a white undershirt that must belong to Will.
“I helped you into that,” he explains, a faint tinge of red coloring his face.
“Thanks,” I murmur, remembering I didn’t have much on when I fell asleep in the passenger seat. Just that scratchy blanket. I curl my fingers around the shirt’s hem, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Here I am. Alone in a motel room with Will, but this solitude is not something I can enjoy. Not with everything that has happened.
“Miram’s your friend?” he asks quietly, patiently.
I wince. “Sorta.”
He stares at me starkly, moments stretching between us. “I’m sorry. Jacinda, she’s gone. There’s no helping her now.”
“No!” I shake my head wildly, a snarl of hair catching in my mouth.
I swipe it free. “It’s my fault she was out there—”
“How is it your fault when she wouldn’t come with us? There was nothing you could do.”
I ignore his logic, thinking only of Cassian when he learns his sister is lost. “You can do something! You’re one of them—”
He flinches, but I don’t care. For once this doesn’t twist my stomach into knots. Guilt doesn’t ribbon its way through me because I’m in love with one of the monsters that would hunt me, toss me in the back of a van, bind my hands and wings, and then sell me for parts. In this situation, what he is should be a help.
“No, Jacinda. It’s done. She’s already been delivered. . . .”
Delivered. Like she’s goods, an inanimate object. A package. I feel something inside me withering, pulling away from him.
“You won’t help me, you mean,” I announce, my words a hard bite.
The air-conditioning unit near the wide, curtained window kicks to life, a loud rumble in the tiny room. A rush of cool air wafts over me, but even this fails to relieve my skin or calm my nerves.
In the gloom, his features look drawn and tight, pained that he can’t—won’t—give me the words I desperately need to hear. “I can’t,” he repeats. “She’s at the stronghold by now. Nothing escapes that place.”
Nothing escapes that place. Meaning draki captives live there? As prisoners? They don’t kill them right away?
A flash of my father intrudes. He slips into my crowded mind. The image of his laughing eyes, his handsome face that I can’t recall as clearly anymore, fills my head. Lying in bed late at night, I sometimes flip on the lights and reach for a photograph of him, something real, something I can hold in my hands. Proof that he did exist, that I remember him and see him still, that I will never forget all the wonderful things he taught me. That I never forget him. Never forget his love.
I have no trouble seeing his face now, but I shove the memory aside, not daring to let myself hope for something as unlikely—as impossible—as my father alive after all these years.
“But Miram’s alive? They won’t have killed her, that’s what you’re saying.” I stare deeply into his eyes, their color lost to me in the shadowed room.
He winces, like he regrets implying that. “Yeah,” he admits with a heavy sigh. “She’ll live. If you could call it that. I don’t think they’ve seen too many draki who can make themselves invisible. Just a few. They’ll run tests on her . . . take samples. She’ll live. For a while, anyway.”
A sick feeling swells up from my stomach, but with it mingles relief. I deliberately keep myself from wondering what they would have done with me. I know from Will that they don’t even believe fire-breathers exist anymore. Now they know we do. I do.
What he’s telling me about the enkros is more than I’ve even known, and it gives me hope for Miram.
“So there’s a chance—” He starts to shake his head, but I cut him off. “There’s a chance.” I look at him intently. “With your help, there’s a chance.” My hand reaches across the inches separating us and seizes his.
“But there’s not. There’s no chance.” His voice is deep, that velvet rumble from my dreams pleading with me to accept, to let Miram go.
I can’t. I see Cassian’s face, my mother’s, my sister’s . . . the three of them when they’re left wondering what happened to us. My heart clutches with a pain that makes all I’ve endured seem such a small thing. Miram is lost. Because of me. I can’t just run away with Will pretending that didn’t happen.
Something in me dies, unravels like the last bit of a frayed rope that can bear no more. My grip loosens on his hand, fingers sliding free. I pull away.
He snatches my hand back, lacing his strong fingers with mine, pressing our palms together in a kiss. “Jacinda,” he whispers.
I lock eyes with him, see the need there, read the silent question that he’s asking me. Know that he wants assurance that we’re still on target with our plan.
A part of me longs to give him the assurance he wants. It would be so easy. We’re here. Together. I’m already free of the pride. Free . . .
But am I? Am I really?
I know the answer in my bones, deep in my gut. Even if it doesn’t match up with what my heart feels. Except the way he stares at me just now . . . I can’t say the words.
“I-I’m going to take a shower,” I say hastily. “And then go back to bed. I-I’m still tired.” Not a lie. I feel like I could sleep another ten hours.
For a second I think he’s going to push, demand we have this conversation now. And I can’t. Not now. I can’t tell him there’s no way I can run away with him.
How can I be with him? How can I ever feel free if I subject Mom and Tamra to the torment all over again? Just like with Dad. The wondering, the never knowing for sure. The waiting, enduring the passing of days until you finally have to admit that he’s gone and never coming back. I can’t do that to them again. And there’s Miram. I have a responsibility to her family, too.
After a moment, he says, “I have some clothes you can wear. Another shirt. Some sweats, too.”
I nod, relieved that he’s going to let the subject drop. For now.
He stands and I watch as he riffles through his duffel bag and comes out with the clothing. I take the bundle, both thankful and regretful when our hands don’t touch this time.
Moving out from his shadow, I step into the light of the bathroom, closing the door on him with a soft click.
Chapter 20
After a shower, I curl up on the bed, lifting my hair from where it’s trapped beneath me and dropping it over my shoulder. For a long time, I hold myself still, silent beneath the sheets as I do my best to ignore Will next to me. I wait for sleep, for the moment when my dizzy, frantic thoughts can slide into rest.
Despite having slept so much already, I’m still tired. My beaten body should be able to fall back asleep. It should.
“How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?”
And there’s why it can’t.
His hushed voice brushes the back of my neck and my flesh puckers to gooseflesh.
He’s why I can’t sleep. I’ve been doing my best to block him out. Impossible, of course. How am I supposed to ignore that Will is inches away? Will, who I’ve longed for since the moment he spared my life months ago in that cave . . . before I even understood that it was longing I felt.
I open my mouth, but then realize speaking only confirms that I’m awake. I seal my lips shut. Because I can’t speak. Not when I can’t say what he wants to hear.
What even I wish I could say.
His hand closes on my shoulder, and a sigh escapes me. So much for faking sleep.
I don’t resist as he rolls me over. We sink toward the center of the bed, practically chest to chest. His eyes glow in the dark. His hand moves, lifts.
My breath locks in my lungs as he slides his hand through the snarls of my damp hair, holding me, his face so close that our noses brush. The scent of the motel’s complimentary raspberry shampoo swirls around us.
Staring at each other, we don’t speak. I taste his breath then, his lips so near my own. When his eyes dip toward my mouth my stomach twists. Familiar heat swamps me. I bite my lip to keep any sound escaping.
And then I can only think that this is Will.
Will who I’ve wished for and thought lost to me. Will who I’ve dreamed of. Will who has saved me time and again, who I saved at great risk. Who loves me when there is every reason he shouldn’t. Who I love despite all the reasons I shouldn’t.
Will who I have to leave. Again.
I lift my hands to his chest. Flattening my palms, I try not to caress him, try to find the strength to push him away. It’s going to be hard enough saying good-bye tomorrow.
But then he kisses me, and I know I can’t pull away.
His hand at the back of my head slides to my face, his warm palm a rasp on my cheek as he swallows up my moan.
The kiss still feels new. Like t
he first time. The brush of his mouth sends ripples of sensation along every nerve. I clutch his shoulders, clinging, fingers curling into the lean muscles of his body. I hold on for dear life, the mere texture and taste of his mouth completely devastating me.
My body burns, skin pulling and rippling, overcome, ready to fade out.
Maybe it’s where we are, the circumstances of what has brought us here . . . or the fact that I may never see him again, but I can’t get enough of him. My mouth moves over his, nibbling, sucking.
His hands roam down my back, tugging me closer.
I move in, wind my arms around his neck. Tangling fingers through his hair, I deepen the kiss, not even minding when his full weight rolls hard over me, sinking me deeper into the mattress.
My body cradles his, instinctively welcoming him. I breathe a greedy sound, not even thinking that we might be moving too far, too fast. There’s only need. Hunger. I’m tired of being denied.
He grips my head in both hands, kissing me thoroughly, biting at my lips in little nips. His fingers press into the tender flesh of my cheeks, holding my face still for him.
Growling, I struggle to move my head, to taste him as he tastes me, but he holds me, traps me . . . a delicious torment that makes me writhe beneath him.
It isn’t enough. Not even close.
Fire froths at my core, and I struggle to rein it in, to cool my lungs.
I whimper when he glides a hand beneath my shirt, caressing my back in sweeping strokes. He lifts his lips from mine to say, “Your skin . . . so . . . hot.”
I gasp sharply against our fused mouths as his hand drifts, brushes my ribs, the quivering skin of my stomach.
I tear my lips free and arch my face away from him to release a steaming breath that I can’t hold in any longer.
He drags an icy kiss down my curved throat, his tongue tracing the tendon there . . . only escalating the smolder within me.
His mouth lifts from my neck. Cool air caresses the wet flesh. I gulp the chilly air, desperate to douse the inferno building in me.
I feel his stare. Look up and plunge directly into it.
Vanish: A Firelight Novel Page 14
