Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
ASH
We walk in silence so long I’m not certain she’ll ever speak. Or forgive me.
Dry cheatgrass crushes beneath our feet, medicinal sage lining the air where our legs brush against powder-green leaves. Cicadas scramble and fly as we pass, their rhythmic call percussive as rattlesnakes.
Overhead, a lone raven caws, inky feathers iridescent in the afternoon light. Head cocking as it hunts the brush, occasionally swooping.
I can feel her grief like something just beyond me. As if I could reach out and touch it. Take it away.
But that’s not what she wants.
That’s when I realize she won’t survive this narrative.
“I’m sorry.”
We say it at the same instant. Then, stop staring at each other for too long.
Every inch of me wants her. Down to the individual cells. But I can’t let my biological weakness harm her.
The raven circles back, shadow moving fast along the ground like a terrestrial-bound ghost. That’s how I feel.
“You first,” she says.
The words warm something in my chest. She still sees me despite everything. “I’m sorry you think I betrayed you. By helping them. But I had to—”
“Why?” It comes out stilted.
“For containment.”
She laughs, stepping forward again, shaking her head. “Containment? None of this is contained.”
“It could be worse,” I say before catching myself.
Her eyes flash, face sharpening.
Dammit.
“It could? How, Ash?” Her voice trembles, eyes simmering.
The air goes hot and too moist, tightening my chest and throat. Now, I’m the one walking… pacing in front of her. Removing my hat and ruffling my hair. Breathing hard because the air’s stifling.
“You think I chose this?” I raise an eyebrow, staring at her directly now. “You think this is what I want?”
The last question feels like a lie. Every inch of me hums for her.
Control.
Four in.
Control.
Six out.
Control, Ash.
I could repeat it a thousand times. I already have. But the words hit hollow.
Now that my arms feel empty. Now that I know what her warm breath feels like against my chest.
I swallow hard. “All I ever wanted was a quiet life. To be left alone. Seventy-three years old without meddling in other’s business. Without getting in the way. Live and let live. My motto… until—” I stop short. I can’t say the last part.
“Until?”
I shake my head, working the ground in front of her again.
“And all I wanted was to do research. Not get guarded constantly by my grandpa’s immortal bestie. I told you to leave me alone. You refused. You caused this.”
I step closer with a snort, towering over her now. “I caused this?”
My eyes stray to the range where the dark clouds already form. This will be a bad one if it’s anything like the tension building behind my sternum.
“You think I can control this?”
A puff of air escapes her lips. “So, you’re fighting it, too?”
“More than you can imagine,” I grunt.
Her mouth firms. “Good. It’s the only way. The only thing that makes sense.”
That knocks the wind out of my chest. “The only way,” I say softer, voice throbbing though I work to control it.
She nods firmly, casting her eyes to the ground. “Because this…” She’s talking with her hands now. “This can never be.”
“Because I’m different?” It comes out before I can stop it. “Inhuman?”
Her voice catches. “No… because this can’t exist. It’s simply—” She searches for the words. “Impossible.”
My eyes narrow as the wind picks up, shoving dust into the air. I draw closer, shielding her against the sandblast with my body. “A hallucination, then?”
Her throat works once. Her eyes drop to my mouth.
Anticipation curls low. I tighten my gut, reach for restraint.
That’s when the rain starts, a soft patter, warm on my cheeks and in my hair.
We both stand frozen. Only breath moving between us.
“More like…” Her voice dies away. Then, returns thrumming, “A fever dream.”
The words land harder than I expect.
I rub a hand over my jaw, feeling rough stubble.
Four in.
Six out.
Pressure builds at the base of my spine. Familiar. Needy.
The wind picks up, pressing hard against me.
That’s when I pull her into my arms.
Not halfway.
I lift her off the ground. She gasps, but I cut it off, taking her mouth hard.
She tastes of ozone. And thirst. And peace.
The first goddamn peace I’ve had in days.
Rain slides between us, mouths tangling, breathing each other’s breath. Her arms circle my neck, her legs tightening around my waist as I walk her backwards, pressing her gently against the blackened rocks she loves more than this world.
The resonance crashes through me, like the gusts of wind slamming into me. I try to shelter her against them, the way my back does the storm. But she presses into me harder with each throb until I feel her heart thudding against my chest.
When we finally break, gasping, I rest my forehead against hers, gulping air. Leaning against her so I don’t pass out.
“God,” she hisses, mossy eyes staring up at me. “What is this?” Raindrops line her thick black lashes, her bobbed hair damp and curling at the ends.
“Resonance,” I answer. The world narrows around me to hum and truth. The things I can no longer hide—or fight. “Like the hum that vibrates through the mountains, where my ancestors come from. But stronger… so much stronger.”
“Ancestors?” her forehead creases.
“Sentinels. The Ancients. Not from here.” I nod toward the sky, not knowing how else to say it.
“Aliens?”
“Don’t know for sure. Not human.”
“Then you’re not human?” she asks, eyes darkening.
I shake my head. “Hybrid… half blood, if that.” I pull back, eyes searching hers. Silently asking the words I can’t make myself say.
“Not possible,” she laughs, incredulous.
“No?” I ask darkly.
Her gaze drops, her sigh long and ragged.
“You’re my grandfather’s friend,” she repeats, eyes dropping to my mouth again. “I shouldn’t want this.”
My throat thickens, lungs stopped cold.
“But it’s all I want,” she confesses.
I don’t wait, crashing into her again. No longer controlled. Discipline hanging by one frayed thread as I sweep into her mouth.
I still half expect her to fight me. Come to her senses. Maybe it’s what I want.
Instead, her fingers curl into my collar, drawing me so hard against her it hurts.
My senses feel sharper, completely attuned to her now. Like the entire world has faded around us.
Breath. Heat. Pulse.
Warmth builds between us to the boiling point. Her hands go to my shirt, frantically tugging at the buttons. They give way easily, rain hitting my bare chest.
But if I take her… the way every part of me wants to?
I don’t know if either of us will survive this.
I’m not sure I want to…
I can’t do this to Martin and Miranda Reyes. I can’t do this to their granddaughter. No matter how right she feels in my arms.
I pull back. Her pupils blow wide. Cheeks flushing the color of wild roses.
“What’s wrong?” she gasps.
I shift my weight.
“I don’t know right or wrong anymore,” I confess, hand coming up to brush her jawline. “Just that this feels too big for both of us.”
She runs a hand through my hair. I tip my head back, closing my eyes and savoring the feel of her soft fingers dragging over my scalp.
“This—”
I wait, forehead furrowing.
“I’m a scientist, Ash. I’ve been trained to study numbers and data. To calculate, to measure, to record.” She exhales through her nose. “To use all five senses…”
Thunder breaks over the range now. Distant. Cold.
“And they all tell me… that I can’t explain any of this. But here with you… right now? It feels more right than anything I’ve ever done.”
“And that’s why,” I lean closer, murmuring against her lips. “We have to stop.”