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And…just maybe have the gifts to do it.
Then again…I look down at Echo…she doesn’t need any damn gifts to gut me. She wants my heart? I’ll cut it outta my own chest and hand it over. All she’s gotta do is ask.
“Echo?”
She blinks up at me and frowns. “I saved you,” she whispers.
“What’s wrong with her?”
Okayo pulls his stethoscope away from her chest and his flashlight outta her eyes. He shakes his head. “Her pupils are responsive, her pulse is steady but weak. She doesn’t appear to have had a stroke or an aneurysm, not a heart attack either. I think she’s…”
“She’s drained. You don’t need an Alpha breeder to tell you that,” the witch hisses.
Her arms are crossed over her chest and Okayo’s gaze drops to them — no, past them, to her breasts which she covers. “I…I wasn’t staring, it’s just…I’m a Beta.”
She hisses, fangs jutting out of her mouth, and leaps at him.
He releases a strangled cry, throws up both hands like he’s unsure whether to catch her or fight her off, but before her weight can land, she transforms into a flock of small white butterflies. They scatter past us, silk wings brushing my cheeks. I cover Echo’s body with mine, wanting no part of her to come into contact with any part of the witch.
The butterflies flap closer and closer together, spiraling like a reverse tornado into the sky until they meld into one single white owl who finds its perch on top of the pile of dead and undead bodies. She stays there and I decide I hate this witch and I’m fuckin’ pissed at Echo for goin’ into Paradise Hole with her.
From the moment Ward confirmed that she was gone, I deluded myself into thinkin’ that this witch would have Echo’s back, but it’s clear she’s about as reliable as Trash City and just as homicidal. Maybe worse. She hates me and all Alphas and there’s some part of her that hates Echo for any ounce of empathy she’s ever shown one of us. And this man in the cave? Whoever he is, I’m gonna skin him for callin’ Echo weak, for gettin’ into her head, for puttin’ her in this position in the first place.
“I forgive you,” Echo whispers, lips lookin’ dry, voice crackin’.
I know I misunderstood her, know I did…and yet… “You…you forgive me?” Hope. It oozes outta me like pus from a goddamn wound.
She nods.
I stroke my hands back through her hair. Cradle the back a’ her head. Lean down and brush my lips over hers…she doesn’t kiss me back and rips her head to the side. “I forgive you. The man in the cave said I had to. But I don’t love you and I can’t trust you, not ever. Not again…”
My hope that had been soarin’…shatters against the pavement.
I wanna rip into her, cuss and curse at her. I open my mouth…but lookin’ down at her lookin’ up at me, I just can’t. Not when her eyes are brown and perfect. Not when her eyelashes are a darker red than her hair is. Not when both are a darker red than the blood smeared around her nose, mouth and across her right cheek. Beneath it, it looks like she’s lost freckles since I last saw her, like stars fallin’ outta the sky. Wonder if I could track them to find the path she took out here in the rocks. Five days. Five fuckin’ days she’s been in Paradise Hole without me and she’s okay. She may be guardin’ her heart from me, but who gives a flyin’ fuck about that right now? She’s alive.
I’m so fuckin’ grateful she’s okay, I can’t help but grin suddenly, madly, and I pretend I don’t feel the water wellin’ in the depths of my eyes.
Her eyes round, then narrow. I use the edge of my coat — the one she’s wearin’ — to dab at the blood under her nose. Just a nosebleed. Just a nosebleed… “Stop…” she starts.
I cut her off, takin’ advantage of the fact her lips are parted. I kiss her deep and I can feel her inhale as her body starts respondin’…and then stops. A vine lashes outta the ground and wraps around my throat. It’s a thicker vine than I’ve seen her wield before and it fills me with pride and devotion. I’m grinnin’, the taste a’ her blood on my tongue as I pull back. Her eyes are closed. I’m worried, but with my Berserker’s ears, I can hear her heart beatin’. Soft, but consistent. She’s just drained, whatever the fuck that means.
There’s blood on her lower lip that I wipe off with my thumb.
Over my shoulder, I look at Peate and Okayo standin’ together. “She really okay?”
Both medics nod and, fuck, it’s gonna have to be good enough for me. I nod, a shaky smile tuggin’ my lips a little wider between my cheeks.
“Got orders?” Whiskey asks.
I nod a second time, then scoop Echo up off a’ the ground. Even though it hurts like fuck to move, I cradle her to my chest and don’t let her go, even as my legs threaten to give out. “Get a tent up. Get a cot up. We’re parkin’ here until the Dark City Omega’s back on her feet.”
“I’m not the Dark City Omega,” Echo whispers, eyes closed, head tipped back. I’m about to contradict her until her lips move. “I’m the Fallen Omega of the Earth.”
“What, baby?”
She doesn’t get a chance to respond, though I’m not sure she would have. She looks already half-asleep.
“Remaining here isn’t prudent. We’re in Paradise Hole and the Mirage City Berserker awaits his reckoning.” Yaron has approached. He’s found riding pants, but no shirt, and is apparently helping the other Alphas go through the bodies, separating the dead and the undead from one another.
