He liked that very much, and so did I.
It was a moment of complete surrender and has almost made me feel stronger.
For a long minute, I drift with him, closing my eyes, letting the ghost of what we have done and the bond between us wrap around me. It is like a hug, but better.
I am happy, and that feels like a dangerous thing to think.
Happy was never allowed before. Happy was not part of the plan. It was almost forbidden.
But here I am, with my Dante, knowing he is my forever. When he ceases to breathe, so shall I.
Just as I start to drift back to sleep, Dante sits up with a huge gasp. His eyes are wide, his heart thundering in his chest. I can feel his distress and cannot help but curl around him, wanting to offer him comfort.
It takes me a moment to realize his phone is ringing, and he fumbles for it, dragging it off the nightstand. “Eissa,” he says.
For some reason, that makes my heart sink in my chest. Why would Eissa be calling him? It must be of great importance.
Dante bows his head as he answers, his breath trembling. “Hello?”
And with my Vyastil ears, I can hear Eissa speaking in rapid English.
Something happened with Luca. He is injured.
He is alive, but hurt.
“Okay. Okay, yeah. Send me the address. We’ll be right there. Yeah, alright. No, you go ahead and call Rath and Everest. Thanks again. See you in a few.”
With trembling hands, Dante hangs up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s Luca…” he begins, his voice cracking. “He’s hurt—shit. We have to go. Right now.”
thirty
DANTE
Worrying about Luca is an old pastime. And nine times out of ten, he’s always okay. And he hates when I fret excessively, saying he thinks it’s because he can’t hear. That’s not it, but then again, how can I convince him that freaking out over my family’s safety is just a hobby of mine?
This time, though, it’s serious. This time, he’s in real danger. Eissa didn’t tell me everything, but the tone of his voice said I needed to hurry, and my heart is in my fucking throat as I attempt to steady my legs so I can get dressed.
But even with all this chaos now, I can feel Cielo in my head deeper than before. He really is my second heartbeat now. He keeps steady hands on me as I pull on sweats and fight off panicked tears.
Eissa was genuinely worried.
And if a Vyastil with their wildly magical healing herbs is worried, it has to be bad.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my voice strained—almost shattered. “Fuck.” My eyes find Cielo, who’s waiting by the door as I attempt to get my shoes on. “I can’t lose him.”
Cielo shakes his head and walks toward me. He drops to his knees and takes my shoe from my weak hands and eases it on over my stubborn heel. “Won’t. Dante,” he says, and I meet his eyes. “Promisss. Won’t.”
I want to believe him, but I don’t know that Cielo understands the gravity of this situation. They’re so long-lived. They have so many herbs that can heal them.
He can’t know what human mortality is like.
What it feels like as the end nears…
Cielo makes a soft noise as he puts my other shoe on, and he doesn’t let me go. Instead, he floods my mind with a powerful feeling of grief that almost takes me out at the knees.
I need a moment before I can process what I was just given, and then I begin to cry for real. But these tears aren’t for me. Cielo has shown me exactly what he’s felt since his banishment, since knowing the family he loved—the family who raised him—were ripped from their village and taken god-only-knows where.
“I understand loss,” he says, his words completely clear.
