I point the spike at the Stormer’s head.
“Put it down, son, and I’ll make this a lot easier for you,” he tells me.
“Or . . . ,” I say as I stand. Audra tries to stand too, but her legs collapse. I step in front of her, shielding her. “How about you leave now and I won’t run you through with this?”
I hold the edge of the spike out so he can see the way it glistens along the edge, like a real sword.
“It’s fun to watch you play soldier. But you forget that I know your kind. I’ve been with Raiden for all the Westerly interrogations. Violence isn’t in your blood, boy.”
“Your partner might disagree. Or he would if he weren’t dead.” My voice shakes on the word and my vision dims, but I fight for control.
The Stormer falters. Then he shakes his head. “If that’s true, it must’ve been an accident. You think you have the stones to stab me? Spill my blood all over the ground?”
My arms shake.
He grins. “Typical Westerly. So let’s stop pretending there’s even the slightest chance you’ll do any harm with that toy.”
“It’s not a toy,” I shout, getting seriously pissed. The callous way he talks about the murders he’s witnessed—helped with—makes me gag.
“Vane, give me the weapon,” Audra orders. She can barely hold out her hand, but I know she means it.
“How cute, your little girlfriend wants to play too. And I’m sure she could at least make good on her threats—if she weren’t half dead right now.” He winks at Audra. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you the rest of the way before the day is over.”
Some sort of strangled roar erupts from me.
“Ooh, he doesn’t like it when I’m mean to his girlfriend.” The Stormer moves a step closer and I adjust my aim. Straight at his heart—assuming he even has one.
He rolls his eyes.
Then he grumbles a string of words I can’t understand and whips out his arms. A chain of broken gray Northerlies tangle around me like a lasso. I slice them with my spike and they unravel.
He frowns. “Like I said, your toy is quite impressive. Hand it over, come quietly, and I’ll let your girlfriend live.”
“Don’t even think about it, Vane!” Audra shouts.
I ignore her. “How do I know you won’t kill her the second I’m restrained?”
“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Then I guess you’re an idiot.”
He growls. Then, with a blur of motion, he grabs the windslicer from his belt and launches it at Audra. I lunge and slash it. The sword explodes, peppering the ground with tiny needles.
“I can do this all day,” I warn him, tossing my spike between my hands.
His eyes narrow. “Fine. I give you my word.”
“Not good enough. If you want a deal, you’ll let me launch her safely out of here in a pipeline and then I’ll turn myself in.”
“No,” Audra shouts. She fumbles, trying to get up. Trying to stop me.
I move away from her. Closer to the Stormer, careful to keep the spike trained on him.
“Do you think you intimidate me?” he asks. “You forget, I’ve watched your kind let us torture their wives—their kids—and do absolutely nothing to stop us. You’re gutless weaklings by nature. Nothing changes that.”
He stares me down. Daring me to prove him wrong—knowing I won’t. Can’t. It’s all a game to him. And I’m tired of playing.
I raise my spike, aiming it between his eyes. “Let. Audra. Go.”
My hands shake. My voice shakes. But I mean it.
“I’m done with this!” he yells.
His body’s a blur, his next words a mystery, but I know whatever he’s doing is going to kill Audra. Break me so I’ll have no fight left to resist him.
I watch my arm swing back, almost like it’s attached to someone else. It’s easier to think of it that way.
It’s someone else aiming the weapon at his heart. Someone else letting it fly at just the right point in the toss. Someone else running him through with a revolting squish of flesh and blood.
Someone else.
But it’s me who screams. Me who collapses, shaking. Me who can’t get the question out of my head—the one I don’t want to know the answer to, but have to ask anyway.
What have I done?
CHAPTER 54
AUDRA
I scream as I claw my way to Vane’s side. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t tell who fell first, or why.
He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. Please. Be. Alive.
My hands reach him then, and he’s still warm. He’s curled up on his side, shaking. But he’s alive.
Tears fill my eyes as I search his face, his chest—everywhere—for blood, a wound. He’s perfect. No injuries.
Then I see the Stormer.
The twisted wind spike sticks out of his chest at a jagged angle. Thick, syrupy blood streams in rivers as parts of the wound disintegrate and float away with the wind. His eyes are glazed. His mouth twisted in a snarl. Cruel even in death.
My stomach heaves.
Vane groans.
It hits me then. Vane did this.
A Westerly did this.
I pull him closer, whispering, “Shhhhh.” Trying to calm him.
He shivers harder, his teeth chattering. I wrap my arms around him and press as much of myself against him as I can to warm him. Fire shoots between us, and his eyes clear enough to meet mine.
He shatters into sobs. Low, deep wails of pain and terror.
I pull his head against my shoulder. Stroke his hair. Cling as tight as I can, afraid if I let go he’ll crumble into a million pieces and never put them back together.
The storms slowly calm and the clouds clear, bringing back the sun. Normal winds surround us, singing of hope and relief. But Vane still feels like ice.
How long can he stay like this?
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He groans into my chest.
“I mean it, Vane. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He shakes his head, and the motion rocks his whole body. I squeeze him tighter.
I can’t imagine what he must be feeling. I’ve never killed anyone—and I’m not a Westerly.
I have to say something. Help him. But what magical combination of words will make him okay again? Bring back the funny, obnoxious boy I’ve grown to love?
Love.
I haven’t let myself love anyone—not since my father died.
But I love Vane Weston. And I won’t lose him. I can’t. I won’t be able to survive it.
I try to make him look at me, but his eyes are distant. Lost.
“You saved us, Vane. You made the greatest, most wonderful sacrifice anyone has ever made. You saved me.”
My voice leaves me. I’m overwhelmed by what he did for me. By his proximity. By everything.
He doesn’t move. His eyes stay glazed.
My stomach knots as I realize what he needs. I’m afraid to say it, but I take his shaking hands and coil our fingers together.
He has to be Vane again.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Something pulls in my chest as the words leave my lips, but they taste sweet.
True.
“I’ve tried so hard not to love you that I’ve driven us both crazy. But I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. So please come back to me. Please don’t leave me.”
My voice hitches and I choke back a sob. “I need you. I’ve never needed anyone—but I need you.”
I stroke his face as my words trail to silence.
Silence.
His sobs have stopped. So has his shaking.
I hold my breath as I meet his eyes, afraid of what I might see.
Vane stares at me. Unsure. Weary.
But it’s him again.
My turn to cry.
He reaches up, smoothing my hair. Wiping my tears.
“I really thought I lost you this time,” I whisper. “I’ve lost you so many times, so many different ways. I can’t do it again.”
“You won’t have to,” he promises.
Yes, I will.
He puts his finger on my lips, stopping me before I can say it out loud.
“Whatever you’re going to say, let me say something first.” He takes a ragged breath and sits up on his own, wiping the sand from his face.
He takes my hands. “I’m barely holding it together right now—and the only thing keeping me from losing it all over again is you. So I don’t care about laws or oaths or betrothals. I care about you. I need you.”
We stare at each other, neither daring to move. Holding our breath.
“I won’t force you,” he tells me.
I know what he’s asking me to do—and I want to do it. Oh, how I want to.
But can I? Should I?
I study his hands. His eyes. His mouth.
There are so many things about him I want. But that’s it. I want him. All of him.
Who has the right to keep us apart? To tell us it’s wrong? That we don’t belong together, when everything about us proves we do. There’s something between us—something deeper than the Gales. Than our laws. Than my oath.
I’m tired of denying it.
So I lean forward. His hands cup my face, soft enough that I can pull away if I want to.
I don’t want to.
I close my eyes and take one more breath. Then I press my lips against his.
CHAPTER 55
VANE
All the times I imagined this moment, I never got it right.
Her lips are sweeter and softer, and they fit against mine like we were formed that way. Everything about us matches. Our breathing. Our movements. And the heat. The delicious fire that ripples through my body before it rushes back to hers.
She clings to me as hard as I cling to her, her hands sliding down my back as I grab her waist and press her against me, so there’s no space between us. I’ll never let anything separate us again.
Now I know why they call it “bonding.”
As we burn and connect, parts of her meld to me. Her strength. Her determination. Her honor. They flow to the cracks in my heart and fill them. Heal the places the violence crushed and shattered. Make me whole. I know I’m doing the same for her.
We were two broken, incomplete people.
Now we’re one.
No one will ever understand me the way she will.
No one will ever understand her the way I will.
And no one will be able to change that. We’ve melted together and been reforged into something stronger. Something better.
My hands slide back up to her face, stroking her cheeks before they move to her hair. I want to unravel her stupid braid, let the silky strands fall free so they can tickle my skin. But it’s not worth breaking away. I want to stay right here, right now. Holding her against me. Our lips moving together in a perfect rhythm. Never letting go.
Audra’s the one who finally pulls away—like I knew it’d have to be.
Her chest heaves as she gasps for breath, and I grin when I see her flushed cheeks. The light in her eyes. Her swollen lips.
I did that.
And God—I want to do it some more.
I cradle her face in my hands and kiss her again, slower this time. Like we have all the time in the world. Because we do. We’re safe. The Stormers are gone and . . .
Memories I’m trying not to think about flash before my eyes and everything in me twists upside down and inside out. I break away, holding my head like that could wrangle my thoughts away from the horror show still replaying in my mind.
“What’s wrong?” Audra asks, stroking my cheek.
Her touch calms the panic a little. “I can’t. Not with . . .”
She frowns for a second, and then I see her put the pieces together. Her eyes dart to the place I’m trying not to look.
Even with the added strength from my bond to Audra, I’m not sure I can see it—him. See his lifeless, broken form. Not without going back to the dark place I sank into.