Chapter Nine
––––––––
Raine
––––––––
I'm so cold I can't think, the chill so vicious it settles into my bones and turns me rigid.
I'm so cold, I feel as if I'm going to die.
All I remember is falling into a body of water after losing my jacket to a branch. But before I could take a breath, strong hands reached for me and dragged me out.
Theron?
I'm sure I was hallucinating. I must be, as they swap me around from arm to arm while running with me. First Alec, then Conrad, then Theron.
I'm dead sure I was hallucinating, because how else could I have been wrapped in all three of their jackets? How did they know where to go? How could they see when the snow was so thick, a mere blanket of white?
But slowly, my reality returns. I didn't imagine them. They came for me. They saved my life.
The thought that I would have drowned if they hadn't found me doesn't stray far from my chaotic thoughts. I gulp down the warm air of the cabin as we enter. I'm fine. I'm warm. But they are dangerously frantic.
"You could have fucking died out there, Raine," Theron roars at me. But he's not the only one. Alec and Conrad dig into me too, promising they would punish me so fucking hard once I warmed up.
I'm vaguely aware of Conrad feeding more wood into the fireplace, moving with sharp, efficient purpose.
"The generator is out," he hisses angrily after trying to turn the heat on.
Theron moves past him, grabbing blankets from the corner of the living room and placing them beneath me near the fire. The bed he made is so soft. I just want to lie down in it and feel the heat of the fire on my face.
But hands are on me then. Alec's first—firm, urgent. My soaked thermal top is peeled away, the fabric clinging stubbornly before it finally gives, leaving me exposed to the air. It should feel colder, but I'm past feeling it now.
I want to protest when Conrad and Theron move in to help, when more layers are stripped away, but my body won't cooperate. My limbs are too heavy, frigid from the dive I took into the lake. They're so numb they don't feel like my own.
So I let them undress me, letting them take the freezing wet clothes off me until I'm completely naked once more. The damn Virgin Chalice is discarded with my clothing, as if it means nothing. But then I'm wrapped in warm blankets, and the fire roars, spitting out bundles of blissful heat.
"Summer. Summer. Summer." My sister's name falls from my frozen lips over and over. I want to say more but my jaw locks into place with every breath I take. I can only say her name.
My mother named me Raine because it rained so hard when I was born, and the day was dark and dreary. She named my sister Summer because she brought light into my mother's life. She was determined to stay sober. Summer was the gift that would keep on giving, offering her a new lease on life.
She stayed clean for two entire weeks after Summer was born, then decided she didn't want to be a mother after all.
She wasn't wrong about my sister. She brings joy to everyone she comes into contact with.
Me, I'm a wet blanket, one that's been left out in the rain too long, as Summer teases me when I choose work over fun, or caution over happiness. I can't let my sister die.
Summer.
"They're going to take my sister. I have to get to her.
Please, let me go. The man with the clown mask said his name was Joe, and he was a consultant for a mafia boss who wanted the Virgin Chalice.
I don't know anything more. He said if I don't return with the Virgin Chalice, they're going to take Summer.
She's only fifteen years old." I'm begging now, nearly hysterical.
"Raine, listen to us," Alec says. "You belong to us now. And nothing is going to happen to your sister."
His words sink into my brain. My gaze shifts from Alec to Conrad to Theron.
They risked their lives to save me. They didn't need to have done that. If I died, it would have been a small loss for them. Their enemy would have sent someone new to try to steal the Virgin Chalice from them. I am collateral damage and nothing more.
Yet, they came after me. They saved me. They're saving me now. And I believe them when they say nothing will happen to my sister. I believe them.
I'm thinking completely clearly when I throw myself into their arms. I don't stop them when they take full possession of my mouth.
I don't stop them when they take my nipples between their lips and suck on them, sending bolts of heat through my system, warming me from the inside out. And still it isn't enough.
I thrash around on the heap of fur and blankets where I've been placed, on my back, my legs spread as they touch the most intimate part of me. First with their fingers, then their mouths.