“What is it, love?” Darius asked. He was still kneeling in front of me, the other two on the couch at my sides, and a feeling of complete contentment settled over me. I knew it would pass, but for now I let it comfort me, like the fuzziest fleece blanket during a winter storm.
“This might sound crazy,” I said.
“Crazier than being a necromancer with secret powers and having regular interactions with Death?” Emilio asked, his eyes twinkling.
I gave him a playful smack on the shoulder, and he grabbed my hand, holding it tight.
“I just… You know how they say people who share traumatic or intense experiences sometimes feel like they’ve known each other for years, even if it’s only been a few days? Well, I kind of feel like that with you guys, but even more intense. I mean, there’s no way I’ve only known you for a week.”
The three of them exchanged a glance, but it wasn’t scary or judgmental.
It was warm. Nostalgic, even.
Ronan nodded, and Darius squeezed my calf.
“You’re right,” Darius said. “We have known you longer than a week. Much longer.”
“They saved your life, Gray,” Ronan said. “The night I found you on that boat.”
Thirty-Three
Darius
For a full minute, Gray seemed shocked into silence, her lips frozen in a tiny pink “o” as she blinked at us in disbelief.
“You werethere?” she finally asked. “When he found me on that boat?”
“Yes.” I closed my eyes against a fresh cascade of horrid images—the bruises on her arms and legs, the fear in her eyes, the way she’d screamed when Ronan had carried her out of that boat. I could live another three hundred years and still, I’d never forget that sound.
Just like I’d never forget the sounds she’d made in the car tonight, her body coming alive at my touch. I’d much rather focus on rememberingthosesounds. Perhaps even coaxing them from her again sometime in the very near future.
“So you guys are, like, pals?” she asked, a warm smile rising on her face like the sun.
“Pals might be a bit of a stretch,” Ronan said, at the same time Emilio said, “More like brothers.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “The kind who fantasize about beating the hell out of one another, but pulverize any outsider who attempts the same.”
Ronan actually cracked a smile at that one, the cheeky bastard.
“A demon, a vampire, and a shifter hanging out together?” Gray lifted a brow. “That’s pretty rare, even in this town.”
“What can I say?” Emilio grinned. “We’ve always been rebels.”
“Sounds like it.”
“You weren’t speaking,” I told Gray. “We weren’t even sure youcouldspeak—all you’d done so far was scream. But after a day or so, you just slipped into unconsciousness.”
“Asher managed to swipe some medical supplies,” Ronan said, “so we could run an IV and keep you hydrated. And we all just took turns doing what we could, hoping it would be enough.”
“Wait…Asher?” Gray shook her head, trying to process all of this. “I can’t imagine Asher caring about anyone other than himself. Well, and maybe Ronan.” She looked at the demon in question. “You guys seem pretty tight.”
“Thick as thieves, those two,” I agreed. But despite my general distaste for most demons, I wanted Gray to know the truth. “Asher O’Keefe is not an easy man to—shall we say—connect with. But beneath the brash demeanor and ridiculous tattoos, the hellspawn twat actually does have a heart.”
“Wow. I don’t even know what to say.” Gray leaned forward on the couch, resting her cheek against her thighs. Her hair slipped in front of her face, and I ran my fingers through it, tucking it behind her ear so I could see her eyes.
“Once you started to regain consciousness,” I continued, “our big, tough wolf over here fed you homemade chicken soup with a syringe. Every night for nearly a week, he’d warm up the pot for you, adding more vegetables and broth, never letting any of us near it.”
Gray smiled again. “Really?”
