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Darien had a lot to do with that.
No—he had everything to do with that.
“Thank you,” she whispered, gripping him tighter.
They both knew she wasn’t referring to the hug, but Loren kept clinging to him, because that hug was pretty great too.
He was pretty great.
“I dreamed of you,” Loren whispered, remembering that awful night in the Old Hall, when it had started raining. Flooding.
Darien pulled back a little—just enough to see her face. There was a crease between his dark brows, and she fought the urge to smooth it, to trace his features with the tips of her fingers.
Loren swallowed, tears flooding her eyes. “I was drowning, and you…you helped me breathe again.”
47
Motel 58
STATE OF WITHEREDGE
Shay had jumped into the shower the minute they’d made it back to the motel, using the hot water to ease the tension in her muscles, a migraine splitting her skull in two.
Not just that, but she also used the water to calm herself down. Her heart was still racing from the close encounter in the desert, the sight of all those eyes peering at them from the darkness haunting her every blink.
Now, as she stepped out of the shower, her body wrapped up tightly in a towel, she breathed a sigh of relief that the migraine was gone.
But something arguably worse hit her like a battering ram.
A Surge.
She stumbled forward and gripped the counter, knocking over a few of her things.
“Shit,” she hissed. Magic surged through her, causing her muscles to bunch up and her eyes to blacken with the Sight. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Why here? Why now? Why, with Roman right there in the motel room—
“Shay?”
“Shitballs,” she mouthed, eyelids slipping shut. He was right on the other side of the door now—she could feel him.
He rapped a knuckle against the wood. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” The word was a strangled gasp. Another wave of magic ripped through her, and she panted, gripping the counter, unable to stop the embarrassing, breathy whimper that slipped out of her.
A heavy pause.
“Shay.” Roman’s voice had a different tone this time. “Pup, are you touching yourself?”
“What?” she shrieked. “No!”
“Then what’s going on?”
“Go away, Roman.” She stumbled over to the toilet, lowered the lid, and sat down, shaking in her towel. Wet hair dripped down her back, making her shiver harder. “Please, just…go away.”
Gods, she hated this! It felt like her body was burning up inside, like an electrical fire had started in her veins—
She was able to fend off the Sight long enough to see wisps of shadow sneaking under the door.
