Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
athena
It’s not real.
The voice was so close I could have sworn I wasn’t alone. I peeled my eyes open—peeled my hands away from my face and forced myself to stand.
My magic.
The fire.
Not a single flame remained.
That meant it worked—right? My power had found the source of the fire.
I tried not to consider the implications. I was beyond exhausted. I was death walking. Weakness dragging on bones.
I was certain I’d never stand again. But those words…
It’s not real.
They made my heart crack open. Sinner. Now that his words had gotten my attention, I could feel him again. In my soul—that tug at our bond.
He was close.
And he was hurting.
My bloody feet moved. My tired legs ran.
My energy had been depleted. Yet, for him, I found the will to go on. To run.
It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.
It was a plea. He suffered, he prayed. For what? I didn’t know.
It didn’t matter. I had to get to him.
“Sinner!” I yelled, no longer caring that our enemies could be nearby. “Sinner!”
A newfound rush of adrenaline fueled me.
Sinner. Sinner. Sinner.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
I dragged myself down street after street, stepping on burning embers and broken stone.
The pain barely registered.
I ran. I turned another corner. And there he was.
He crouched, crumpled into a pile of bones and flesh in the middle of the smoking street, with his hands over his ears as he rocked back and forth, back and forth.
Alexander and Karlyle stood a few feet back, dumbfounded looks on their faces.
And then they saw me, their eyes widening.
I held up my knife in warning.
But both men threw up their hands in defense. “We’re on your side. We’re with him, we’ve been looking for you.”
My focus darted back to Sinner.
Always landing back on Sinner.
“What’s happening to him?” I asked.
“We don’t know…”
One of them continued speaking, but my only focus was Sinner. I closed the distance, throwing caution out the window.
It’s not real.
He mumbled those words, though they were barely intelligible. He was covered in soot and rubble and dust. Exhaustion etched onto his face, and he was gaunt. Like he’d lost weight since the last time I’d seen him.
It had only been days.
But this man looked like he’d lived an entire lifetime between then and now.
“Sinner.” I dropped the knife and cupped his face, forcing him to look up. “Look at me.”
He pulled away, trapped inside his mind.
“Hey.” I tried again, stronger this time.
My bloody hands left prints on his skin.
He was lost, his shadows simmering around him, protecting him. Deathly armor. But they wouldn’t hurt me.
They recognized me.
They coiled around me as I grasped his shoulders. As I shook them and ran my hands down his face and through his hair.
Desperation gnawed at me. He was here—but, he wasn’t.
It isn’t real.
“This is real,” I said to him. “I’m real, Sinner, and I’m right here.
” My voice broke and tears blurred my vision.
My throat was raw from screaming and my heart cracked wide open.
Hell, I didn’t realize how much I missed him, how much I needed him, until he was within reach, yet so far away. “I’m right here.”
I buried my face in his neck, the two of us a tangled heap of limbs and dirt and blood on that broken street.
Perhaps this was who we really were. Not the two strong mystics who lashed out with witty comebacks and sharp tongues, but the crumpled, broken bodies riddled with exhaustion and pain and heartbreak.
This certainly felt more like us.
“I’m right here.” All I could do was reassure him. Maybe he’d eventually hear me. “I’m right here.”
The words became a prayer as I buried my face in his chest.
His arms remained at his sides, but his phantoms held me. Caressed me, hugged me, pulled me closer.
And soon, he did, too.
His touch was hesitant at first, but eventually, his rigid walls crumbled.
“It’s me,” I whispered against him. “It’s me.”
His hands roamed my body—my torn, foul dress, my raw, damaged skin. But his touch was like home.
He was home.
I collapsed against him. The energy I’d used to find him was gone, and I was left with nothing. I had no fight left.
His calloused hands found my face and cupped my jaw.
I blinked away the tears clouding my vision and locked eyes with him.
Tears threatened to spill from him, too.
That broke me even further.
“I was alone,” I sobbed, throat dry. “I woke up and I was all alone and I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t—”
Panic suffocated me. The fear I’d choked down rushed to the surface.
Alone. I hadn’t been alone—truly alone—in a long time.
Not since the day I met Sinner.
And I never wanted to be alone again.
“I’m here now,” he said. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I fucking promise you that.”
I dropped against him and sobbed. I sobbed and I sobbed.
And he held me.
I sobbed so hard that I didn’t realize at first that he was crying, too.
The four of us stumbled away from the smoke-filled streets and ducked into a mostly standing building near the edge of the city.
“You two get some rest,” Karlyle said. “We’ll take first watch.”
We didn’t argue. After what we’d been though, we needed it.
I nodded, and the two of us made our way to the narrow staircase in the back of the unit. Alexander and Karlyle silently stepped outside, perching themselves in front of the door.
My chest warmed. In a matter of minutes, I’d gone from being totally alone and nearing the brink of death, to being watched over by three powerful mystics.
I felt safer than I had in a long, long time.
As I took the first step, Sinner gently grasped my arm, stopping me. “There’s no fucking way I’ll let you walk up these stairs in your condition. Come here.”
He guided my arm around his neck and picked me up like I weighed nothing.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, though I didn’t fight. “You’re not exactly in the best shape, either.”
His muscles didn’t falter as he climbed those narrow steps or as he shuffled into the back bedroom. He set me down on the bed delicately, then stood up.
The room was covered in a light film of dust, but it was otherwise clean. The moonlight flooded in through the window, bright enough to give me a clear view of his face. Of the scrunch of his brows as he looked down at me.
I propped myself up on both elbows. “What are you looking at?”
His throat bobbed, and his nostrils flared. “You’re… You look…”
He sighed and rubbed at his mouth, his eyes tearing up again.
“I told you I’m fine,” I insisted. My stomach turned over. I didn’t want him to look at me like that—like I was broken. Like he was to blame for any of this.
He shook his head and looked away, shame fluttering through our bond.
“Hey.” I sat up and pulled at his shirt, guiding him closer and forcing him to hover over me. He braced himself over me, his forearms on the mattress on either side of my head but his attention darting away.
I gripped his face in both hands so he couldn’t back away. “We’re together now,” I breathed. “Whatever happened before this doesn’t matter. What matters now is that we’re both here, and we’re going to get out of this mess.”
A muscle in his jaw flickered as he studied my face. We stayed like that for a minute—staring at each other like this was the first time we’d truly seen one another. Like this was the first time we’d seen anything at all.
“I missed you.” His breath kissed my face.
The old Athena might’ve laughed at such an admission from Sinner. The old Athena might’ve made fun of him for showing weakness like that.
But the new Athena—the one covered in blood and tears and fear—smiled. “Will you lay with me?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. When he pulled away, I let him, my body deflating, defeated.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t keep looking at you like this.”
Mortification washed over me as he disappeared into the nearby washroom, but it was snuffed out when he returned with a towel. He dampened it with his water from his canteen, then returned to the edge of the bed.
“May I?” he asked.
My breath hitched, but I managed to nod.
He delicately picked up my right leg and slid it over his lap. He started with the bottom of my foot, grimacing at the damaged flesh. He held my calf more gently than I had ever been touched as he whispered, “What happened to you out there?”
He pressed the cool cloth to my inflamed skin, and though it stung at first, it quickly soothed. Carefully, he wiped away the dirt and grime and blood. He only stopped when the broken flesh was clean. Then he moved to my ankle, my calf, my knee, all of which were covered in blood.
I kept my eyes shut for a second, reveling in the sensation. The warmth of his fingers on my body alone could heal entire armies.
“Someone attacked me,” I finally answered. “There was a fire. There was… God, I don’t even know.”
“These damn war games,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what the fucking point of this is. I can’t even tell what—” He stuttered and my chest clenched. “I can’t even tell what’s real.”
It’s not real.
I sat up and grabbed his arms. “Come here,” I ordered. He’d done enough. He’d carried me, he’d held me while I cried, and he’d cleaned my wounds.
But I just needed him. I needed rest—the kind I could only get when he slept beside me.
Without argument, he climbed into the bed behind me and wrapped his body around mine, one arm draped over my stomach, holding me tight.
I sighed, and the tension drained from me. This was what I needed. Just him. No egos getting in our way—no half-truths or secret stares. Just his body intertwined with mine.
The heat of him lulled me into a deep, fast sleep.