Gem opened her mouth—no doubt for one last jab—but then thought better of it, walking away with nothing more than a warning glare.
I slammed the door hard behind her, then returned to my vigil at Saint’s bedside.
I pressed a hand to his forehead. His fever was breaking, sweat beading on his skin. His body shook and shivered, his face the color of old milk, limp locks of hair plastered to his pillow.
But he was still breathing.
I squeezed my eye shut as the images from earlier tonight slammed into me, one painful frame at a time. Saint, swallowing all those pills. Going after the Dreamers. Tearing out throats just to get at more blood, more Black, all of it…
And the stench of all that fear. All that gore. All that sudden death.
I shuddered at the memories, once again wishing I could’ve stopped him. Wondering why I didn’t. Hating myself for it all over again.
He slaughtered so many people. Fae. Demons. Humans.
And he’d nearly killed himself in the process.
My insides churned and roiled. Suddenly I felt like I’d swallowed a handful of broken glass and chased it down with boiling oil. But it wasn’t fear that held me in its cruel grip now—no way. Fear I could deal with—squash it before it ever took root. That’s how I was made. Forged in hell into a ruthless monster who could outrun the terrors that would bring lesser men to their knees.
This? This was fuckinghelplessness.And as much as I hated myself for not being able to prevent this tragedy, I hated him for making me feel this way at all.
For making me face the truth of how much I truly cared for the bastard.
I opened my eye and glowered at him, ready to give him the same old litany.
“When this is over, Iswearto you, Saint. I’m—”
“Jax.” Saint stirred, muttering something under his breath. I leaned in closer, and suddenly his arm shot out. He gripped my hand in a fierce lock, the tremble in his muscles vibrating straight into my fucking heart, and all my harsh words died away.
The old refrain I’d been threatening him with—I’m leaving, we’re done, fuck off—it was bullshit. All of it.
I returned his tight grip. Held onto him for dear life.
And said the only words that mattered. The only words I truly meant.
“Fucking survive the night, asshole,” I whispered. “You hear me? Fuckingsurvive.”
6
HALEY
Hudson was… a lot.
Somuch.
And tonight? Holy hell, I washerefor it, so grateful he’d kept his word about not stopping. Not until I told him I was done, and I wasfarfrom the finish line with this man.
Our connection was undeniable, the magick of our bond sizzling through my veins, lighting me up inside and out. Being with him just felt so natural, so right. So inevitable. With every punishing thrust, he filled me and stretched me and pushed me to the edge in every possible way—with his words, with his kiss, with his body…
God, that body.
And I was loving every second of it.
He’d left me exhausted and panting after just one round, yet I still wanted nothing more than to take him deep inside me again. And again. And yeah—spoiler alert!—again,until all I could feel, all I could breathe, all I could evenrememberwas the way this man made me feel.
Safe. Protected. Cherished.
And absolutely on fire.
