Every muscle in my body trembles as I hike through Hangman’s Valley.
I wear the satchel of urine that repels the beasts of this forest. Sure, that would put me in pretty severe danger, which is the goal, but I don’t want to be torn to shreds before he can find me.
The fall air flutters through the tall collection of rubber and cannonball trees. Birds squawk from the safety of their nests, the afternoon sun pours over the red-and-yellow fruits dangling from the trees.
After we bathed in the creek, Ruth helped me in my leather archer’s dress and pants that I saved from the asylum and hooked the strap of blades around my waist. I leave my hood up, pointing out each trap waiting for me. The puddles of acid. The trench pit disguised with vines, branches, and moss. I remember each step we took in the single-file line behind Dessin and Aurick.
Where are you, Dessin?
I, of course, have doubts that puncture my chest as I trek on. What if Vexamen dug up his body? What if Demechnef did to study his anatomy? His brain? What if that vial from the Emerald Lake Spring failed? I don’t think I could go on if—
Something makes a soft cracking sound behind me. Not a branch—smaller, like a twig or even a crunchy leaf. So light and quiet, I’m not sure I heard it. But that’s how I know I’m being followed. Someone or someones is trying to move undetected.
I continue walking, not giving away that I know they’re there. There are probably, if I had to guess, ten crossbows pointed at me. I can smell their sweat and adrenaline thick in the wind.
There’s a snapping sound, like a rubber band smacking against skin, and an arrow whizzes past my face, a hair away from grazing the tip of my nose.
I break out into a run.
My thick, wavy hair flies off my shoulders, flapping in the jungle wind as I sprint, leaping over fallen trees, zigzagging to avoid the plethora of arrows shooting across my vision.
Find me, Dessin.
My stomach jumps in rhythm with my frantic heart, triggering my small breakfast to jostle and slosh in my gut. Panic tingles my sweat-slicked skin, and I have to remind myself that I, too, am dangerous. If they get close enough, I can take down at least seven. But who knows how many are around?
“You can fake your death.”
Hope urges my muscles to run faster, fight harder, push my body to the brink of what I am capable of. Even though I can defend myself, I miss the way he would protect me. At all costs. Nothing could get through him to me.
My mind floats to that waterfall. The day Kane kissed me.
“As hard as this might be for you, to be left in the dark, to have an endless stream of questions. I promise it’s harder for me. It’s ripping my heart out. It’s”—he took a steadying breath—“burning me alive, honey. I want to tell you everything. But I can’t. Not until this is all over.”
My heart burns for him. I need him more than food and water. I need to tell him I remember. I understand why he did it.
I twist my head and notice that the Vexamen Breed is catching up. They’re faster than I am. Longer legs and wider strides. Not to mention, my body has been put through the wringer recently. I’m sore from head to toe.
I’ll have to stop and fight. My eyes search for a spot that I can use to my advantage. Trees, logs, clusters of vines. And a small cliff. A hill that cuts off from erosion. I force my tired legs to move in that direction. Only a little farther. I can wait for them behind the cliff, wait for them to jump down so I can attack them one by one.
It’s not much of an advantage, but it’s something.
Racing up the hill, I’m only a good twenty yards ahead. I get to the edge and drop ten feet, my backside scraping against giant curly roots and gravel. With a thump into a bed of moss and ivy, I reach for my knives. They stopped shooting the crossbows; there’s a chance I can catch them off guard and fight hand to hand.
I’m here, Dessin.
Men in raven armor, like the black scales of a viper, leap from the small cliff, rolling through the dirt as they make contact with the ground. I pounce on the first one, jumping on his back before he can see me, and slicing my blade across his exposed neck. Hot blood sprays across my hand. The second one jumps from the cliff and lands behind me; I pretend not to hear him sneak up, ducking as his sword swings over my head, whirling on one foot to kick my leg out under his feet. He flips backward, falling hard on his upper back. I quickly spear him with his own sword.
But the rest fall too quickly. I was hoping to get them one at a time. They trickle over the hill like a colony of ants, tumbling toward me. I only have time to scream and swing my daggers in desperation to slow them down. But there are too many, and I’m tackled to the ground, thrusting my dagger into impenetrable armor.
If I can’t live with you, I’ll die with you.
My scream travels the length of the forest as I fight with everything I have left. Every lesson Kane taught me. Every moment he trained me to wield a weapon, swing my fists, defend myself against the greatest warrior there is. Him.
But it isn’t enough. There are too many. All at once.
I love you, Dessin.
The sound of a motor grumbles through the trees, loud enough to get the soldiers on top of me to look up, moving out of my view of the cliff. But then—all movements stop at the sound of a dragon’s roar piercing the jungle with the heat and explosiveness of a thousand burning suns.
I freeze, stunned into absolute silence, with an army of goose bumps etching over every inch of flesh.
One blink and I gasp.
A man on a motorcycle flies off the cliff alongside a black beast, soaring with fiery red eyes and an open jaw of sharp teeth, ready to devour.
And so they do.
“It’s you,” I say with a loud exhale. “Dessin.”
Dessin, in his leather jacket and double-edge sword, kicks off the bike, sweeping through the unit like a machine, slicing through heads and limbs as if they’re made of butter. And DaiSzek is unstoppable and a plague on this earth. He jumps from soldier to soldier, shaking their bodies like chew toys, and snarling after each kill.
I jump to my feet but have lost my daggers, and Dessin—without a word—tosses me a pair of gloves. The demon’s teeth that Garanthian gave me. I pull them on before a soldier swings a sword in my direction. I high kick it out of his hand, slamming my fist of metal thorns and jagged blades across his face, ripping into the flesh, carving him into confetti.
The three of us fight like arch angels sent down to obliterate evil. Warriors that don’t bleed. Don’t feel pain. And I’m filled with an electric current of power. A feeling of utter domination. Complete invincibility. When we’re together, nothing can touch us.
Where one lacks, the other makes up.
Dessin fights three at once, kicking one into the air for DaiSzek to snatch midflight.
Within minutes, the last body drops into a heap of blood and entrails. A silence drifts around us like heavy smoke, impossible to breathe. And I look at them, streaked in blood, panting from the workout.
My jaw clamps down. His face. His broad shoulders. That towering height that leaves me feeling so small in his shadow. And he gazes back at me, burning with violent adrenaline and unreadable emotions. His sword drops at his side, and DaiSzek runs to chase down a deserter.
My hands shake at my sides as Dessin takes a single step toward me.
I suddenly can’t control what I feel. The fury overtakes me, searing through my veins like poison, blurring my vision with hateful tears—it’s all I’ve known since he’s been gone. I release a stuttering breath.
He takes three more steps and remains silent.
I’m bubbling with every ounce of agony, of horror, of crippling devastation I felt when he died. The tears swell, and I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Skylenna,” he says, voice rugged with deep sorrow and dominance. I feel it sink to the bottom of my stomach.
My name on his lips melts the last of my control.
“You son of a bitch!” I explode, slamming my blood-soaked fists into his hard, immovable chest. “You fucking bastard!”
My screams are the most devastating sound I’ve ever heard.
“How could you do this to me?” I know why he had to. But I can’t help but be angry at myself, at my plan, at anything and everything. “I watched you die!” Somewhere in that sentence, my voice breaks into a million tiny pieces, and I’m crying. My cheeks wet and flushed with heat.
My fists and arms are limp and soft as I weakly try to hit him again. This time, he catches my wrists, pulling me to him as he walks me backward into a tree. My back hits the bark, and I melt into him, sobbing with loud, angry gasps for air.
Dessin presses his forehead to mine, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen tears rimming his eyes. His jaw is locked, his forehead pinched together, and he looks like he wants to hit something, kill something, or roar at the top of his lungs in agony.
“I was so cold…” I whimper. And suddenly, I’m that little girl again, trapped in the basement. “I wanted to die too.”
“Forgive me,” he grunts, low and gravelly, hot breath brushing over my lips.
Forgive him? I’m the one that forced his hand. I ate the Phoenix Stem. I killed every last memory I had with Kane. I gave him no choice but to honor my last wishes and carry out this plan.
“Forgive me. Because I’ll never forgive myself. We never wanted you to hurt like this.”
I cry harder, melting into him as I fall apart. And he holds up my weight with ease, locking his arms around me like a cage. I let it all out. The pain I endured in the asylum. The days I couldn’t eat after his death. The nightmares I was trapped in. The blood I spilled. The memories that tormented my soul and ate me alive.
“Please, don’t leave me,” I beg. It’s such a small, sad request. But I’m terrified. My whole world spun out of control when he was gone. And I suddenly buckle under the weight of this new fear. That he’ll vanish again. A string of smoke in the wind.
And I’ll be left cold and alone, all over again.
“I’m here. I’m here.” His muscles bulge under my hands, gripping him for dear life. His scent of cedar and sandalwood overwhelm me. His own atmosphere of dark, masculine fragrance. I’ve longed to breathe it in again.
I see flashes of the worst moments of my life. Cradling his head in my lap. Trying to stop the rush of blood with my hands.
“He’s suffering,” Ruth said through a garbled cry. “I think you need to say goodbye.”
I howl as Dessin lets me unravel in his arms. “You were dead!”
“I was. And it killed me more watching you watch me die.”
“I can’t get the memory out of my head,” I sob. “I see your blood on my hands everywhere I go.”
He nods, a tendon ticcing in his jaw.
“And I’ve become a monster.” Which I can’t bring myself to feel bad for at this moment. The only emotions clouding my head are heartbreak, relief, agony, and pure bliss.
“You—”
Dessin dips his head down, taking my mouth with his own, cutting off my question. It’s a tortured, traumatized kiss. It’s pleading and suffering and praying for mercy. Through tears, sweat, and blood. He lets me weep softly, kissing away the scars and bruises. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he squeezes me tighter.
“I fucking missed you, baby,” he exhales against my lips. And with one swift jerk of his arms, he thrusts me upward, slinging my legs around his hips.
I release a pained moan as he presses his growing arousal into my center, trapping me against the tree, claiming my mouth as he shows me just how much he missed me. Strong hands squeeze the underside of my thighs to the point of discomfort. But the good kind. I want him to bruise me. Scratch me. Mark me permanently, so there’s no way I’ll ever forget this moment.
I tighten my hands in his hair, pulling him closer to me, silently begging him to deepen our kiss. And he does. His hot tongue dips over mine, forcing my mouth to open wider, to whimper into his feverish kiss.
He becomes rock hard at the sounds I make. It only spurs me on.
“Christ, I need to have my hands on you every day,” he growls against my lips.
“Like this?” I bring his hand from my thigh to my breast, guiding him to feel my nipple tighten at his touch.
“Yes, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll never get enough of you, baby.”
“I want you inside me.” I tug at his belt buckle. “I want you to fill me up. I want you to make my pain go away.”
His eyes darken, expression twisting in arousal and anguish.
“Not yet,” he says huskily. His hands release me from around his waist. And that gaze softens, losing focus as he dissociates from this moment.
Kane
Trees and sky, all blurry and unclear in my dissociation.
I blink several times, waiting to understand where I am and why I’ve surfaced. It’s always this way, though I try not to show it. The amnesia when we front can be frightening, those heavy moments like I’ve just woken from sleepwalking. My hands feel wet, my body aching as if I’ve been running or fighting. I suck in a steadying breath as my vision clears.
And I am immediately aware of why I returned to the front.
She looks like a warrior from one of the colonies. Her hair is wild, tied down by a couple of braids on the sides of her head. And her leather hunting dress is splattered in blood. My eyes dash to her face, her emerald-green eyes surrounded by tiny red veins. Her tears track through streaks of blood.
I download as much information as I can from Dessin. From the moments leading up to where we are.
Vexamen Breed chasing her. Feeling the beat of fear course through Dessin’s chest. Finding her like a ship to a beacon. Killing them all. First time seeing her again.
I’ve been watching, close to the front, after Dessin found her, but losing bits of that memory is our way of protecting each alter.
“Kane?” she whispers, wet and strained.
My body goes rigid. She’s always looked at me with this sense of comfort and fondness, like she knew or felt that we have this bond but didn’t remember where it came from. It’s as if someone held my heart out and dangled it in front of me.
But, my god, she no longer has the question clouding her vision. She’s looking at me. Really looking at me. Tears spill over her bottom lashes.
“Hi, honey,” I rasp.
She looks at me for several moments before parting her lips.
“You used to call me Skylittle.”
My heart gallops, then twists painfully; I sigh and close my eyes. Pure ecstasy. Relief washes over my body like a hot shower. Emotion clogs my throat so fiercely that I can’t even respond.
“You love fruit but hate raspberries because of the seeds.” She takes a step closer. “You’ve memorized the constellations from the nights we’d sleep under the stars. The smell of cut grass makes you sneeze. And you’d stay up at least four hours after I fell asleep, waiting to see if I had a night terror so you could pull me out of it.”
Tears fill my eyes until she’s a blur of golden hair and tan skin. I turn away, but she grips the back of my neck.
“You tried to save Scarlett.” Her strong voice breaks. “You suffered for weeks from the burns on your back. And you’ve hated yourself for not getting there in time.”
I can feel Dessin close to the front, listening quietly, soaking in her words as much as I am.
“Skylenna—”
“How could a man spend his entire life being this selfless?” She looks at me the same way she did when we were young, and she thought I was her hero. “You felt Jack’s loss more deeply than I did because he was the only father you’ve ever known.”
I nod. I have dreams of it often. Every time I try to save him, his blood leaks from his body faster. I lost them both that day. Jack ended his life so he wouldn’t be a pawn in their experiments any longer. He knew by removing himself from the equation, she’d be safer.
“You saved me from that basement, Kane. You saved me from Jack. You saved me from the fire. You were always there. My best friend. The arms that held me when I cried. The voice in the darkness that pulled me from my night terrors. You’ve cared for me through a sea of memories.”
I use my thumb to wipe a tear rolling down her cheek. It hurts me to see her cry, but these words, these sacred memories, burrow into my soul.
“And I’ve loved you my whole life.” She looks up at me with absolution. A statement that has tattooed itself on my heart. “I am in love with you, Kane.”
Fuck. My shoulders tremble under her hands. If only she knew how long I’ve waited to tell her everything. How many nights in the forest I’d watch her sleep, as a grown woman, as this stunning creature I couldn’t take my eyes off of. She’s been my whole world, whether she knew it or not.
And every day, I’d wake up and see her soft, peaceful face, still in a deep sleep. I’d say it then. I’d tell her that I’ve loved her since I was a little boy. I’d whisper that she is my soul mate. That I’d protect her until the day I die.
“I have waited half my life to hear you say that,” I breathe out, trapping her face between my hands. “I love you, Skylittle. I’ve loved you every moment since I pulled you from that basement. I’ve loved you as a child, a teenager—but as an adult, I am deeply, madly, agonizingly in love with you.”
She doesn’t lean in, she leaps in. Jumping into me like two storm clouds, wrapping her legs around my hips and claiming me with her warm lips. But as her mouth parts, her soft, sweet-as-nectar tongue slips into my mouth. Up until this moment, I have been a patient man. I have kept my hands off of a woman that I’ve loved and lusted over for years. I have fantasized about how I would lift her over my mouth and rock her hips back and forth until she was coming on my tongue.
I have been as bottled up and restless as a caged animal.
But that tongue and her soft moan make my cock twitch against the button of my pants. With her legs open for me, I push it against her, letting her feel the thick ridge rubbing at her center. She gasps into my mouth, and holy shit, I fall apart.
“God,” I growl, squeezing her waist. “I’ve waited so long for you, honey.”
She moans, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to hike up her dress and thrust into her. Her hips buck wildly against my shaft, and I hiss.
“Then take me, Kane.” Her hands find my belt buckle. Even the slightest touch of her finger grazing my cock makes me incoherently desperate.
Oh, I want to. I’ve never felt such a mind-blowing desire in my life. Her sweet aroma of rain and jasmine with a slight whiff of fire smoke. I want her on her back; I want to see how much of my hands can cover her breasts.
But not here. Not among the pile of bodies. Not in a place that won’t mean something to us. This woman is my soul mate. My oldest friend.
There’s only one place I’ve always known she would want me to be with her for the first time.
The Ambrose Oasis.
