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But Andreas knows what’s going on inside himself better than I could. If he says he’s fine…
He pushes away from Omar and reaches for the nearest teen now that he’s handled both of the men. I think I see his balance wobble as he leans forward, but he steadies himself so quickly it’s hard to be sure.
Griffin glances up as he crouches next to Omar. “Drey, I really think—”
Before he can finish his sentence, Andreas sucks in a sharp breath. He tilts forward—and his body flickers.
Not like when he’s pulling invisibility over himself. Like his physical presence doesn’t know whether it should be in this world or not, patches flashing between translucency and full transparency and back into sight.
I dash forward without needing to think about it. It doesn’t matter how stoic Andreas wants to be—heneedsme.
I coil both of my tentacles around his torso, as quickly as I can while staying gentle. Then I let loose the flood of energy contained inside me.
A current of it careens from my nerves into Drey’s. He inhales another ragged breath, and his form gradually stabilizes.
I pour a little more and a little more into him, not wanting to overwhelm him, until my own body is tingling with the transfusion of energy and Andreas looks solid and even lively again.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and swipes at his forehead before looking at me. “I should have taken you up on the offer in the first place. I think… if I’m going to wipe all of them while we’re in here, I might need you to do that again after the next few. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say automatically. Why is he apologizing?
His gaze slides to my shoulders, where my tentacles emerge from my skin, and understanding hits me with a jolt.
He knows how much I’ve resented my new appendages. He knows how they’ve expanded with every healing session.
Except… this time they didn’t. I haven’t felt them creeping farther from my flesh—not when I dragged the energy from the rogues and not when I offered it up to Andreas just now.
I straighten up and touch the base of one tentacle. It feels perfectly normal… but even that is strange.
It feels like a part of me. Like it’s supposed to be there, the way it is.
And I’m okay with that.
A weird sense of peace wells up inside me that I know has come from myself, not Griffin. They’re done growing now. The tentacles are what they’re meant to be. And they helped me do whatI’mmeant to be doing.
I don’t know yet if I’m going to see whether Sorsha can remove them, but for the first time, it doesn’t seem to matter all that much whether I keep them or try to give them up.
I don’t have much chance to revel in my newfound contentment. A fresh bolt of anguish bursts behind my collarbone as if shot through my chest from my bond with Riva.
I lurch forward, clapping my hand to my sternum. Andreas flinches.
My head whips toward the door. Something’s gonereallywrong—she’s struggling.
She needs help.
Andreas meets my eyes, his wide with panic. “Go. Griffin and I can handle this right now.”
My jaw clenches. I sweep my tentacles forward once more to send the rest of the extra energy I gathered into him in one huge surge, until I’m sure his nerves are buzzing with it and he won’t falter again.
Then I hurtle toward the door to do whatever I can to see Riva through the next few minutes too.
Thirty
Riva
If I’ve learned anything from my twenty-one years as a monster, it’s that killing is never as easy as you’d imagine, no matter how naturally it comes to you.
With Cutler’s warning shout still echoing off the high ceiling, my banshee shriek bursts from my throat. My power shoots forward to smack into the mass of shadowbloods standing around the makeshift machine—but a few of them have already leapt away.
