Chapter 19
Vega rested her forehead on the cool bathroom door and pressed her thumb into the lock on its handle.
She listened to the sound of her breathing, focused on the cool metal doorknob, on whatever she could to forget the way Bridger looked at her with a hunger only a god of darkness could possess.
Forty years. He’d been her enemy for forty years. He’d spent the last forty-fucking-years working for the sister who wanted her dead.
But he was haunted too.
He’d made decisions for his own reasons.
He keeps them safe. The army. Like he always wanted.
Vega shoved herself off the door, hurrying for the tub. She didn’t give herself time to inspect the cleanliness and decided she didn’t care anyway.
Not right now.
She needed to wash this feeling away.
Vega stripped her clothes and stepped into the frigid stream of water sputtering from the ancient showerhead. The cold sent chill bumps over her heated skin, giving Vega the shock she needed to come to her senses.
What the fuck are you thinking?
“Bridger, your ex, your ex who left you, your enemy.” Saying it aloud didn’t make Vega understand it anymore than she had before.
Her brain knew the facts, knew how insane it was her body was acting like a touch starved backstabber. How was she supposed to ignore their bond’s instinctual physical connection?
She’d not even been with him for two days, and Vega was already ready to cave… to give in to the feeling she’d felt the last time they’d kissed.
Just one more time.
One more time would lead to nothing but complications…
Vega groaned, resting her head on the cool shower tile. “This is fucking ridiculous.”
And so is talking to yourself in the shower.
Using the cheap soap in the dispenser on the wall, Vega washed her hair and body and spent a few minutes letting the conditioner sit.
The sound of the motel door slamming made Vega jump. She’d been too inside her own head to hear its creaky hinges open, and she was too hungry to yell at Bridger for rattling the entire room.
Vega quickly rinsed the conditioner out and turned the water off, the rusty handle squeaking. Vega grabbed the towel off the rack, dried herself off, and stepped out of the tub.
Slipping back into her bra and a fresh pair of the least ugly panties from a pack she’d bought with stolen money at a rest stop, Vega realized she hadn’t heard anything from Bridger since the door shut. Her eyebrows knitted together as she focused harder.
Bridger would have made noise, and she should smell some kind of food. Right?
A creak in the floorboard had her stepping back. “Bridger?” she called, checking the bathroom for anything she could use as a weapon.
She had no idea where they’d stopped for the night or if it was safe.
When Bridger didn’t answer, the hairs on the back of Vega’s neck rose. Someone else is in this room with me.
She’d barely had time to get the thought out before the door flew open and the wooden doorframe splintered into pieces.
Her assailant’s head hung low, rushing at her like a battering ram.
Vega’s skull slammed against the shower tile, and the weight of a grown man landed on top of her.
Spots in her vision made it hard to see, and so did the pain in her head from the impact.
Pushing as hard as she could, Vega fought to shove him off while also bringing her knees up. “Get the fuck off me!” She was able to brace a foot against his chest and use her leg strength to kick him off.
He slammed into the pedestal sink, the force knocking the hood from his head.
Vega leapt to her feet and froze, staring into the eyes of her attacker.
Time felt like it stopped. How?
Chase’s face broke into a smile made for a horror film, jagged at its edges, and pulling too hard at his skin. He stared through his brows, the bathroom’s bad lighting casting shadows on every angle of his face.
Stunned, Vega froze in place as her brain tried to compute exactly what she was seeing.
Run! Her own voice busted through the haze.
She was able to get one foot out of the bathroom before Chase’s hand tangled in her wet hair and jerked her to the floor.
The air left her lungs in a whoosh. She fought to get it back as Chase straddled her waist, putting all his weight into the arm holding her down across her collarbone.
“Chase!” Vega flailed, still gasping for a full breath while trying to rotate her hips and get out from underneath him. He was too strong, pinning her with unnatural strength.
The more she fought, the harder Chase pressed into her.
“Chase, what are you doing? Let me go!” Vega screamed, hoping someone would hear her.
“One of us has to die… It’s not going to be me.” Chase leaned out of the shadows, and that was when Vega noticed his eyes.
The black, soulless eyes stole her breath, fear festering up her throat. “No,” she gasped, clawing at his arms with her nails.
No matter how far she sank them in or how hard she fought, Chase held strong.
“Bridger!” The darkness in Chase’s eyes glimmered. What the fuck? Chase wouldn’t give her an inch. It was like he knew what her move was going to be before she made it. Almost like he was part of her…
“He can’t save you.” Chase’s voice sounded like that of a serpent’s, every s hissing.
He slipped his hands around Vega’s neck and started to squeeze.
Vega clawed at his wrists, and he punished her by lifting her up by the neck and slamming her back against the floor.
Stars sprinkled across Vega’s vision.
The voice inside her head telling her to keep fighting started to fade. Holy shit, this is how I’m going to die. After everything I’ve been through, this is how it ends.
It felt like the end. It felt different.
The stars in her vision faded to black at the edges.
I’m so sorry, Arlet, Khort…
Bridger.
She’d killed them all, doomed them the day she met them. Hopefully there was an afterlife for them to go to, to pass through the underworld and say goodbye before they withered into whatever happened to gods if they died.
Vega tried to keep hold of consciousness for as long as she could, and just before she lost her fight against death, Vega could have sworn she saw an angel with dark wings blending into the shadows approaching Chase from behind.
Oh, those aren’t wings. Those are the shadows of—
Warm, thick blood coated Vega’s chest, and the bite of air reentering her lungs burned like fire.
The metallic taste of blood made her gag as her vision came back.
Even through the speckles of black taking their time to disappear, Vega saw who she’d thought was Pluto, coming to take her to the afterlife, pulling Chase’s limp body off her.
But it wasn’t the god of the underworld. It was Bridger.
In his hand, coated in Chase’s blood, was the dagger Vega had made him leave behind in Rome.
Chase, who now lay face up with a blank stare and a six-inch gash across his throat.
Bridger grabbed her face by the cheeks, his dark eyes full of life, so unlike the black abyss Chase’s had been.
“Vega, fuck. Are you okay?” His eyes bounced back and forth between hers before wandering down her exposed body. “Is any of this blood yours? Are you hurt?”
She wasn’t sure.
One hand left her cheek, sliding down her body in search of wounds.
“You killed him.”
Bridger didn’t stop scanning every inch of her. “Of fucking course I did. He was going to kill you. I could feel it. I could feel it down the bond.”
He could what?
“He was going to kill you. Really kill you.”
Vega shook her head, grabbing Bridger by the wrist. “I’m fine.” She was lucky he hadn’t crushed her esophagus and she could still talk—despite how raspy her voice had become. “Where did you get the dagger?”
Bridger helped her up, twisting the dagger in his grasp to slide it between the waistband of his pants. “He had it.”
“We have to go.” Vega, although she’d almost been murdered, again, was thinking one step ahead. She looked down at Chase’s dead body, blood leaking out of the slash in his throat. His eyes were open and had returned to their normal color.
Vega glanced down at herself, covered in his blood. Bridger had splatters across his face and on his hands. “Clean up,” she demanded, pointing to the sink as she turned the water to the shower on again.
She didn’t wait for it to warm up before getting in. Vega watched the water turn red around her feet, slowly swirling down the drain.
Her ears rang, and she never heard Bridger speaking until he—fully clothed except for the boots he kicked off—got into the shower with her.
Shit, how long has he been talking?
“You’re in shock,” Bridger said softly, his wet pants clinging to his muscular legs. He reached out gently, pushing Vega’s hair out of her face.
She wanted to be mad, pissed—wanted to throw Bridger out of this fucking shower, remind him not to touch her, but everything felt heavy.
Her body, her mind.
The color of the water faded to a light pink.
I almost died.
The searing pain around her brand made that clear.
How the fuck—how?
“Baby—Vega.” Bridger corrected himself, his touch featherlight under her jaw. “Look at me.”
Vega had a hard time focusing, but Bridger came into view, and she couldn’t stop the need to be touched—to be held. She needed to feel alive. Bridger can make me feel alive. Taking the smallest step, Vega pressed herself against him, resting her head against his chest.
The rhythm of his heartbeat was steady against her ear.
He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her. Bridger’s chest vibrated with his words. “Tell me something real.”
Real.
This was real.
I almost died.
Chase had almost killed her.
How? What was—
“Come on, Vega. Let me inside that pretty little head of yours.”
She knew he was doing it to distract her from the panic, to pull her out of the dangerous landslide of emotions that came after almost dying.
“Um,” she finally said, trying to find words. “I had a cat once.” Vega hadn’t thought about that cute black furball in ages. “I named her Sushi.” She didn’t have the energy to elaborate much, but the memory gave her something else to grasp at.
“Not the pussy I thought we’d be talking about in the shower, but go on.” Bridger stroked the back of her head, sending a soothing warmth shooting through her bloodstream.
“You did not just say that with a corpse less than five feet away.”
She felt Bridger shrug, but she hadn’t opened her eyes and certainly hadn’t unwrapped herself from him yet. “Oh, a dead body? Hadn’t noticed it.”
Their banter worked, giving Vega the time she needed to recover. “What are we doing, Bridger?” she asked so quietly she thought he might not hear her.
“We’re making sure you don’t crash out in this grimy tub,” he answered factually.
Vega inhaled deep, breathing in the scent of his wet clothes. Pine and citrus. He’d always smelled like that. “I mean, what are we doing?” she asked again but this time with a different inflection.
The only sound was the water running, time standing still, until Bridger broke it with his response. “I don’t know.”
At least we’re in this fucked-up mess together.