Page 186 of Echoes of the Banshee

Sixty-eight days I’ve spent looking, and he isn’t even here! Everything is speeding up. I thought I had more time. Miriam’s sudden appearance only worsens it. The witch who smiled as she set me on fire. They killed that girl early, are they moving up the timeline? Anita’s face when I saw her: they were going to try and grab me today. I could feel it. They might be waiting outside.

Sixty-eight days of searching. Of waiting. Of guilt. Of holding myself back for someone who might be gone forever. And what if he is? What if I’ve been clinging to an echo while everything else around me unravels? If I got taken again today, I’m not sure how I could face Lazlo.

I’m still lost in my thoughts when Zair returns from his shower, the scent of soap and fresh air filling the room. For a moment, it pulls me out of my head. I have to tease him, something to keep the thoughts inside from overwhelming me. But when he speaks, his words gut me.

“We can’t all smell like death and destruction.”

“I smell like death?” The words escape as panic takes over. Is this all futile? Have I come back to life only to repeat the whole process again?

“No!” he says loudly. “I was just joking. You smell fine, honestly.”

Am I marked for death?

Or am I actually dead? Is this hell?

“Thea,” Zair’s voice is gentle as he pulls me back to the present. I realize I must have been sitting here for a long time. His hand touches mine, and for the briefest moment, I feel safe, like the world might make sense again, even just for a second.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

My heart races as I look at him. Is B right, should I trust him?

He’s been a friend in a way I never thought anyone could be: present, patient, real. Like Lazlo was supposed to be.

Zair’s here, and maybe, just maybe that’s enough. Maybe Lazlo is gone. Maybe he never existed the way I thought. And if that’s true… why am I still denying myself this? Maybe I’ve been holding on to him just to avoid what’s right in front of me.

My breath hitches, and before I can stop myself, I lean forward.

I press my lips to his.

For a fleeting moment, there’s no past. No future. No pain. There’s only him. Only the warmth of his lips against mine, the soft heat of his breath as I lose myself in the sensation. His tongue brushes mine, and I let myself fall into the comfort of him.

His hand moves to my cheek and something inside me snaps.

My body responds before my mind can even process it. All the attraction to him that I’ve buried bursts to the surface. Fear, guilt, and uncertainty evaporate in an instant.

All that matters is him.

I’m not thinking. I’m not second-guessing.

I’m not running from anything.

I’m running to it.

I take off his shirt, barely breaking the kiss. My hands on his skin, it feels like heaven. I need more. He must feel the same because we tear each other’s clothes off with inevitability. His hands roam over me with a hunger that mirrors my own.

“Are you sure?” His voice is trembling with desire, tinged with hesitation. He’d stop, if I asked him to.

But I don’t need to think about it. I know. I need this.

“Yes. I can’t fight this anymore; I want you.” I press my hands to his chest, pushing him back until he sinks into the bed. I straddle him, taking control as I align us.

I lower myself with a shuddering breath. It feels so right. I rock against him, chasing the heat building between us, surrendering completely to the moment. It’s not just about the physical. This is something deeper, something I’ve been denying for so long. This is me, finally letting go.

Zair’s hands are on my hips, gripping me with a possessive force. His eyes are dazed with a battle between pleasure and restraint. Then, without warning, it snaps. He flips us over, taking control. We’re caught in a storm of need, both of us finally giving in to everything we’ve been holding back. I gasp, clinging to him as the wave of pleasure crashes over me. I scream something — his name.

His lips move over mine, whispering my name like a vow, like a prayer offered in reverence. I can feel him unraveling too, his control slipping, his need mirroring mine. This time, the release doesn’t come fast. He lets it build with slow, devastating care. It’s not a wave; it’s a quake, a deep tremor blooming in my core, spreading outward. My body arches, drawn tight with want, until I shatter. Trembling, breathless, completely undone.

I feel him stiffen above me, his breathing ragged. With one final thrust, his release drags us both into that dizzying freefall, where nothing exists but skin and heat. He screams my name.