That wasn’t my place.
The less I knew, the less trouble I could cause. I was the lion. The brute force, if needed. Their guardian.
Their shield.
Nevaeh and the Fae were my friends. And Tarik . . .
Tarik is so much more.
I would die to protect those in my company. Die, like Elias and the others had done, because they had tried to shelter me from something they couldn’t stop.
Die.
Because I wasn’t good for anything else.
Great.
We had been on the water for less than an hour and already I felt like spewing my guts out. My face was probably a sickly shade of green, a nice contrast to my red hair. Healing the cheetah scratches along my side had officially drained the rest of my magic—magic that might have been able to combat this sea sickness. I’d intended to follow Reagan below deck several minutes ago, but the boat kept dipping and swaying and . . .
I slapped a hand over my mouth, swallowing roughly to push down the wave of nausea.
“Arrr, where’s your sea legs, matey?” With a chortle, Malachi bumped my shoulder and I almost lost my stomach.
After a few seconds of deep breathing, I managed to say, “Touch me again and I’m aiming for you.”
“Why don’t you go lie down?” Nevaeh joined us, but at a safe distance. Smart girl. “I’m sure there’s something below deck to lay on, and you can check on Reagan too. She’s been down there a long time.”
“Good idea,” I mumbled, wondering where I could find an empty bucket—just in case. The thought of Reagan cleaning my mess . . . No. Just no. We’d opened up to each other a lot over the last few weeks, but puking up my guts in front of her wasn’t on the relationship agenda.
When I shuffled inside the boat’s living quarters, I assumed she wasn’t in there. A few round windows let in enough pre-dawn light to reveal bunk beds, a lounge area, and a small kitchenette. But no Reagan. I fumbled for the light switch, pausing when a sniffling noise reached my ears.
“Reagan?”
No answer.
Another sniffle came from the back, near the curtained off area, and concern sparked in my chest. I slowly approached and peered into the shadows. The sight of her curled into a ball squeezed my heart. It reminded me of the time I’d found her perched on top of a rubble heap. She’d been positioned just like this, tucked away in a dark corner of the building. Hurt.
And she was hurting now.
The last twenty-four hours had been a blur of activity, but now that we had a second to breathe—and think—emotions were catching up with us. The loss we’d endured at the Safehouse was still a fresh wound. I couldn’t get the image of Elias’s bloodied chest out of my mind, nor his sightless eyes that seemingly pleaded with me to save him while I helped to wrap his body and carry it from the carnage.
Out of the four brothers, he had been the first to befriend me, his soft-spoken nature a balm to my raging fire. His death was still heavy across my shoulders, but I was determined not to let it consume me like Leilani’s death had. For the last three years, I’d lived in a dark, festering pit of shame and guilt and self-loathing after she’d been brutally taken from me. The black hole had imprisoned my hurting soul, refusing to let go. Over time, that black hole had eventually smothered all joy and happiness.
The same thing would happen to Reagan, if she took that dark path. “All those lives—their blood is on my hands. Their deaths are my fault,” she had said just yesterday. I understood and had felt the intimate embrace of that guilt, but she was wrong. I would remind her of that fact until she knew it for herself. And I wouldn’t give up our fledgling relationship to that sucking pit. After all, she had been the one to rescue me from that bleak darkness only a month ago.
One month.
I gripped the wooden frame of a top bunk. How had I grown so attached to someone in such a small window of time? Before that, my life had lacked meaning. I’d survived on autopilot—fighting, drinking, and desperately trying to hold a job for more than a handful of days. Rage had consumed my mind. Vengeance. The feeling was still there, a low simmer beneath my skin, but I wasn’t drowning in the destructive emotions. Not anymore. Not since her.
And now she was the one drowning. I had given her space after the Safehouse attack to think and heal. But keeping my distance—and forcing down the need to take action—had been the worst kind of torture. I would have preferred my leg bones being shattered by Mordecai’s hammer again . . .
Okay, maybe not that.
Help her, my mind urged.
I released a breath. Yes. Help was exactly what I would do.
Crouching, I slowly reached out and touched the blue koi tattoo on her left forearm. “Reagan.”
She gasped, her whole body jolting as she sat up straight. Even in the shadows, I could see the glistening tears tracking down her cheeks. I didn’t know whether to brush them away or pretend I didn’t notice them. Gaia, I didn’t know. Females were . . . different.
As she quickly swiped at the tears, I held back a grimace. What was I doing? Thin white cords dangled from her ears and I focused on them instead, tugging one free. The earbud dropped into her lap, mournful piano music straining through the small speaker. The sound cut off when she pressed a button.
In the silence, we stared at each other. Well, more like we shared quick glances before looking elsewhere. This was new territory for me. Feelings. Talking about them. Out loud. A habit I didn’t indulge in. I wasn’t sure what was going to come out of my mouth, but I went for it anyway.
“My cat Callie would approve of your hiding spot.” What? That was what my brain came up with? “I mean, she might have explored a little first, but she’d soon aim for the farthest corner possible and—”
I cut myself off from further stupidity and raked a hand through my chin-length hair. I needed a haircut. I needed my lips glued shut even more.
Reagan huffed a clipped laugh. “Do you need me for something? Because if not . . .” Her gaze fell to the earbud on her palm.
As the silence settled between us again, one word slapped my face. Karma. After all the times I’d shut her out, she was finally doing the same. And it sucked. She hadn’t given up on me though, and I wasn’t about to give up on her.
I plucked the earbud from her hand and loosely fisted it. “Yes, I need you. I need you to tell me why you’re hiding in this corner. I want to help you, but I can’t read your mind. And please don’t shut me out. I won’t listen anyway.”
Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. Her fingers slid to her mouth, tugging lightly on her silver lip ring. Finally, she whispered, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I didn’t have to ask what it meant. The events of that day haunted us all.
Sinking to my knees, I eased her hand away from her face and threaded our fingers together, sweeping my thumb over her knuckles. “Do you blame yourself?”
She sniffled quietly. “I’ve been blaming myself for four years. Mordecai knew what he was doing. Their deaths were no accident. Of course I blame myself, it’s my fault.”
Mention of the devil dragon’s name prodded my rage closer to the surface. I tightened my grip on her hand. “You are not responsible for that monster’s actions.” Inhaling deeply, I struggled to control my rising temper. “And what do you mean by four years? What happened?”