15. Luka
I slouch in the back seat, the leather sticking to my skin in this desert heat. Rook’s to my right, all quiet contemplation, eyes fixed on the road ahead. My gaze drifts between the cracked window and the car ahead where Vance rides shotgun, Aisling tucked away in the back seat with Oberon.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, a mantra against the pull I feel toward her—even from here, it’s like she’s under my skin, running hot in my veins. I shouldn’t even be breathing the same scorched air as Aisling, not after what went down in New Eden. The memory is a bad trip that keeps replaying, and every time it does, I flinch, taste the bitter tang of regret.
“Can’t stop thinking about her, huh?” Rook’s voice cuts through the hum of the car engine, low and knowing.
I turn my head just enough to catch his reflection in the window. “Something like that.”
“Man, you’re wound tighter than a coil.” He gives me a sidelong glance. Maybe he’s trying to ease the mood or maybe he’s just got that itch for gossip, but I ain’t biting. Not yet.
“Look, all this…” I gesture vaguely between us, outside—anywhere but toward her, “it’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?” Rook huffs out a laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Rook, I gotta sort things with Gunnar first. Whatever I feel for Aisling, whatever mess we’re tangled up in… It’s got to wait.”
I lean my head back, closing my eyes, wishing I could shut out the world and its cruel twists. The car’s engine hums a low, steady rhythm, yet it can’t drown out the riot in my head. We’re cruising along the Mojave Skyway, but I might as well be in a cage for all the freedom it gives me. Heat pours in through the glass, thick and suffocating, mirroring the turmoil broiling under my skin.
“Hey,” Rook says, turning to face me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. “You’ve been quiet for weeks. How you holding up?”
I run a hand over my face, feeling my rough, overgrown beard scratch against my palm, and let out a sigh. “I’m not good, man.”
“Figured as much.” He nods, and there’s this understanding in his voice that doesn’t make me feel any better.
“New Eden…” His voice trails off, and he cocks his head like he’s giving me an out, but we both know I won’t take it.
“Was a hellhole,” I finally reply, my words laced with venom. The memories are shards of glass in my mind, cutting deep whenever I try to piece them together.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks, and I glare at him because he knows damn well I don’t.
“Talking’s not gonna change what happened,” I snap, then sigh because Rook isn’t the one I’m angry at. “But you should know. Maybe it’ll help make sense of this mess.”
“Shoot.” He leans back, bracing himself against the seat.
“New Eden was a trap,” I start, and the words tumble out, heavy and dark. “An Alpha’s nightmare dressed up as paradise.” I leave out the bits he can’t ever know, focusing instead on the shadows that haunt me. “They played us like puppets—dosed us with eros until we couldn’t tell up from down. It turned me into a monster.”
Rook’s silent, giving me the space to let the poison out.
“Listen, Rook,” I start, my voice a low growl as I lean closer to him. “What I’m about to spill… it can’t reach Gunnar. It’d shatter him.”
“Got it.” His nod is firm, eyes locked on mine with an intensity that says he means it.
“Thanks.” I exhale slow, trying to steady the tremor in my chest. “So, New Eden. They welcomed us with this…ritual thing. Made it look like some kind of messed up family reunion.”
“Ritual?” Rook’s brow furrows, confusion etched deep.
“Yeah, and they pumped eros into the air like it was damn perfume. Not even the good stuff—the kind that creeps into your brain, makes you feel all…” My hands twist, searching for the right words, but they’re slippery, evading me. “Like you’re starving, ravenous for something you know you shouldn’t want.”
“Damn.” He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture that speaks volumes, considering how composed he always tries to be.
“Every waking second, man. It was there, clawing at me, scratching away any sense I had left.” I lock eyes with him, letting the raw truth sear between us. The words are like shards of glass in my throat. “They gave me something strong. Real strong.” My hand clenches into a fist, nails biting skin.
“Go on.”
“Lost myself,” I confess, each word tasting bitter. “Turned into some kind of beast. They threw Aisling in with me, and I…” A guttural sound escapes me, half-groan, half-growl. “I hurt her. All night long, couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even remember how we got there.”
“Hurt her?”
I nod. “Leapt on her like an animal and assaulted her…repeatedly. I didn’t even know what I was doing. That’s when I bit her—we didn’t want it.”
“Damn,” he breathes, and I know he’s picturing it – the violence, the uncontrollable lust.
“Next morning, waking up…knotting her…” I choke on the memory, bile rising. “It was like the drug had raped us both.”
“Shit, Luka.”
“Yeah, shit.” I let out a heavy sigh and finally turn to meet his gaze. “That’s why I’m done with drugs. Can’t risk that again. Can’t trust myself.” My eyes sting, but I blink away any weakness. “And facing Aisling? It’s like staring into the sun after years in the dark. Burns too much. Because the bite, her scent, they make me want her…but all I can remember is waking up scared with the taste of her blood in my mouth.”
He just…stares at me, horrified.
No words, I guess.
Yeah…me either.
The hum of the engine and the dry heat pressing against the car windows are my only companions until Rook breaks through with his gravelly voice.
“Hey, she doesn’t blame you, Luka. Aisling knows it wasn’t your fault.”
“Thanks,” I grunt, “but knowing doesn’t fill the cracks, does it?” I rake a hand through my hair, tension coiling in my gut like barbed wire. “It’s like…I dunno, like my body went to war with my soul…and they both lost.”
“Man, that’s rough.” He pauses, and I can feel him searching for the right words, but hell if there are any.
“Rough doesn’t start to cover it, Rook.” My voice is a low snarl, anger and pain twisting together, a double helix of self-loathing.
We fall back into silence, heavy as the heat outside.
Then, the world shudders—and a deep growl, louder than our engine, cuts through the stillness.
I jerk my head up, peering out the window just in time to see a shadow flit by—a motorcycle, sleek and predatory on the skyway.
“Shit, another one!” I press my face against the glass, squinting against the glare. The second bike is a mirror image of the first, engines roaring like beasts unleashed.
Before I can even blink, the air shatters with gunshots, loud and close, punching holes through the quiet. My heart hammers against my ribs, adrenaline flooding every vein.
“Get down!” I bark at Rook, grabbing his jacket and yanking him towards me as I duck. Glass explodes around us, sharp and sudden as betrayal.
We’re under attack, no doubt about it.
And I have to get to Aisling now.