Page 143 of Vengeance of the Gods

Death stilled inside her, worried she’d be mad.

“It came to you?” Vega exhaled.

“Yes. It slipped through our open door and snatched me from my sleep. So excuse me for forgetting to completely suit up.” Bridger leaned in, getting inches from her face. “Now, tell me what the fuck that was before I drag Death out and demand answers.”

Death perked at its name on Bridger’s lips. Its wings shivered, fluttering overhead in a flitted stretch before it sauntered over and rubbed its shadowed body against the doorframe to Bridger.

It didn’t have scales like a dragon or fur like a cat, but its actions were becoming more feline by the day.

Vega closed her eyes, took a breath, and told him everything she could remember. From the way everything felt, to hearing Death screeching from above like she was stuck in the pit.

“It’s the gods I took from Marlena. Diana and Vulcan.” Fear made Vega go cold at their words… at what they’d told Vega without saying anything at all. “They told me if I used their powers, we could defeat him. We could save my soul from the one who bonded me.”

Death roared down the pit again, rattling Vega’s mind. She blinked away the fuzz of its shared outrage with Bridger. “I begged for the power to bind us, to kill her. I asked for Marlena’s death.” Her voice was so small, so scared. “And I was saved… unable to be killed by the death curse already placed on me. He didn’t bind you all to me. It was the other way around.” Her body went cold. “He bound my life to the three of you so I wouldn’t die, in hopes that I’d find a way to kill my sister and send the dead gods to the underworld with her…” Vega knew the second it clicked for Bridger. She could almost see the image he had inside his head.

Vega, Bridger, Arlet, and Khort around a fire. Their bloody hands linked together. Willing to do whatever it took to save their world from Marlena’s wrath.

She’d never found anything about Remus or his curse… because Remus never made it to Tolevarre.

“Bridger,” Vega whispered. Her voice quivered. “I don’t think it was Remus we summoned.”

Only the sound of their shaky breaths filled the space between them. Vega was too afraid to say another word.

“Me neither…”

Vega felt her eyes glaze over, losing herself inside her mind. She’d been so young, so desperate to keep everyone safe from her sister. Vega hadn’t known what she was doing—she wasn’t the sister who’d spent years researching.

“Look at me,” Bridger said softly.

Vega hauled her head up, finding Bridger already staring at her. “We can’t change anything from before. Whatever happened… we move forward.”

She had no idea what to say, at a complete loss for words. Why did things have to be so fucking complicated all the time?

“They can’t control you if you don’t let them.” He stared at her pointedly. “Keep fighting.” His eyes trailed over her face, and he sighed, reaching around her.

Vega turned her head to see him flipping the faucet behind her and dunking a washcloth under its running water.

After winging the cloth out, Bridger brought it to her face and gently wiped around her hairline, cleaning the blood Vega hadn’t gotten before he interrupted her. When he was done with her face, he moved down her neck and then to her chest, half exposed by the too-big sweater draping off her shoulder. “Lift your arms,” he told her, putting the damp cloth on the counter. He gripped her by the hips, gently placing her on the edge next to the sink, and then slipped his hands under the hem of her sweater. Bridger slid her out of the top and cleaned the dry blood marks that had dripped down her bare chest.

Vega leaned back on her arms, giving Bridger access to the marks sliding past her navel. He was laser focused on getting every streak off her skin.

Her nipples perked when the warm rag brushed against the peak of her breasts. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the mirror, the brush of her down hair across her collarbone sending shivers down her spine.

Vega concentrated on the sound of Bridger’s calm breaths, the sureness of his touch. This was the gentleness she remembered—the man Bridger had been when it was just the two of them. The obsessive need to please, the desperation to be seen for who he was and not what he was supposed to be.

He dragged the cloth up the slope of Vega’s neck. The air had cooled the once warm fabric, and though the temperature of her body wasn’t as heated as it had been when she’d woken from the void, the nearness of Bridger and his delicate touch kept it elevated.

Chill bumps raced across Vega’s skin.

“Bridger,” she hummed, her eyes fluttering open to see him sitting on a short stool he must have pulled out from under the sink, placing kisses on her thighs, his hands gripping tightly at her hips.

“Yes, Kitten?” he asked, his voice scratching something inside her brain.

“Kiss m⁠—”

Bridger’s lips were on hers before the demand was even out of her mouth. He consumed her, kissing her like he’d truly been worried Vega wouldn’t come back from the dream.

The strokes of his tongue, the ravenous hunger Vega could feel down the bond was too much. She lost herself in him, in the feel of rough hands sliding up her shirtless sides, the tangle of his hand at the back of her head where the hair met her neck.