You can’t help Az, she thought, but I can. Is that what you want, Gabe?
He winced as if tasting something terrible, and she knew he’d wanted to lie. Gabriel had grown used to being Fallen.
She got to her feet and strode across the room to the door, the idea of how she could get Az back beginning to take shape. She had to get down to the alley.
“Why the alley?” Gabriel asked as she yanked on one of her boots and zipped it up her calf. “What are you going to do? Your thoughts are scattered.”
“Oh, come on, Gabe,” she snapped, pulling on the other boot. When she glanced up, Gabe was off the couch, circling around her. “If I can help Az, I’m doing it alone. There’s not a chance I’m bringing you down with me. Leave.”
At the demand, the air in the living room almost seemed to thicken. Gabriel’s shoulders pulled back, stiff with tension. “Look, you shouldn’t interfere with this,” he said. “It’s suicide!”
Eden smirked. “Not for me.”
I have the upper hand against the Bound, she realized. Siders she sent on stayed Siders, passing Touch Upstairs. It worked differently up there. Here, mortals were passed Touch and it only amped up what they were feeling, for good or bad. Upstairs—or Downstairs, for that matter—the Touch killed the souls. Permanently.
Fine. If the Bound thought they could take Az, could hunt her and her friends, Eden would declare war. “They want to see what infecting their realms really looks like? I’ll show them.” She grabbed her coat as she opened the door, refusing to let her terror shake her resolve the way it shook her hands. “Tell them I’ll stop when they let Az go.”
“Eden, they already want you most of all. You can’t act against them,” Gabe said. “I can’t allow it.”
Clenching her jaw, she forced away the fear she knew must be so obvious to him before she turned back. “Luckily, I’m not asking your permission.”
“I’ll hurt you if I have to,” Gabriel said as he grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand in surprise, pain radiating from the already forming bruise. “Step away from the door. Back toward the couch,” he commanded. Any resemblance to the gentle Gabe she remembered dissolved. “Now where the hell,” he said quietly, “is Jarrod?”
CHAPTER 2
Stretched out beside Sullivan, Jarrod couldn’t help the way his stomach flip-flopped as she sighed softly in her sleep and leaned into him. There was something different about having a girl fall asleep on his chest, head tucked against his shoulder, an arm draped across his stomach. Maybe it was just something about Sullivan.
He hadn’t planned on liking her as much as he did, uncertain what was happening between them. The newness of it made it feel like it could crumble apart at any moment.
Two weeks ago, she’d shown up at Milton’s while he was working. She’d been mortal then and addicted to Touch. His stomach churned at the memory of the night Luke took her life, of her blood soaking Jarrod’s legs, the gush and gurgle of her last breaths and his disbelief when, hours later, she took another.
As if on cue, Sullivan’s eyelashes fluttered. “Hey,” she murmured, stretching against him. Jarrod felt the brush of skin in every nerve, his body humming for her.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, moved slowly to give her warning. She held her breath as his mouth hit hers. A pulse of Touch surged through him, slid back into her. Another, stronger one raised the hair on the back of his neck. Each drove a spike of need deeper into him. Sullivan grabbed his shoulder, squeezing. Lungs bursting, he tore himself away with a delayed gasp. “Sorry,” he said as he leaned back, biting his lip.
“You okay?” she asked, searching for any sign that he wasn’t.
He wanted to keep going, knew they had to be careful. Because Luke had killed Sullivan, she was tied to him, the same way Eden was tied to Gabriel. If they slipped up, and Sullivan exhaled at the same time Jarrod inhaled, he would wind up Downstairs in a cage. It had put a serious damper on their make-outs.
When he didn’t answer, she touched his shoulder. He leaned closer, his tongue pressed to the top of his mouth, blocking his airway just in case. Sullivan’s kiss was barely a peck. When she pulled away, he saw the fear in her eyes.
“We’ll figure this all out,” he promised.
Sullivan nodded, then seemed to reconsider. “Everything’s so different. I mean, between two weeks ago and now. . . .” she said.
“It gets easier. Passing Touch, dosing. All of it,” he said, trying not to let her see he was distracted.
Outside his closed door, he heard movement. For a second, he was almost sure he heard voices as Sullivan rolled away from him. “I meant you and me,” she said.
“Hey.” He took her face in his hands. “We’ll figure that out, too,” he said before his attention turned back to the sounds coming from the living room.
A cry from Eden. It’s the Bound. They found us. Jarrod vaulted up, over Sullivan. I knew I heard something! He chastised himself. I let my guard down. She’s in trouble.
The springs of the mattress creaked as Sullivan sat up. Jarrod turned to her, one finger over his lips for silence, the other pointing to the clothes she’d discarded last night. She moved to get dressed without questioning. He put his ear close to the keyhole. It took every ounce of resistance not to bolt through the door. He concentrated on any clues about how many were out there, if it was really the Bound, and then he recognized the voice yelling over Eden’s.
“What the hell?” Jarrod said as he swung the door open. Gabriel.
Gabriel, who’d found him and Sullivan in the park the night she’d been killed. Gabriel, who had gotten them back to the apartment. Who’d spied on Downstairs so that Madeline had known how to save Eden.
Gabriel, who now had Eden by the wrist.
“Bullshit I can’t leave!” she seethed. “If they won’t give him back to me, I’ll infect Upstairs with every Sider I can find!”
“Let her go right now!” Jarrod yelled as he motioned for Sullivan to stay back. What the hell’s happening?
Eden stopped fighting at the sound of his voice and took a step toward him. Gabriel released her, relief flooding his face.
Two black tears rolled down Eden’s cheeks. As soon as she was within reach, Jarrod grabbed for her hand and rolled it over. Ashes tumbled from her palms. Shit. A deep bruise circled one of her wrists. He kept his attention on Gabriel, backing Eden slowly toward Sullivan and his room. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.
Gabriel shook his head. “Nothing. You got here in time. She’s not hurt.”
Eden tried to speak, but coughing broke up her words, and Jarrod couldn’t make out what she was saying.
She sucked in with a wet, crackling noise. Her lungs sounded full of cellophane. “Slow breaths,” he commanded.
Without enough Touch to heal, her body was shutting down. He watched her throat convulse as she tried to swallow. An injury as simple as that bruise on her wrist was enough to tip the scales. “Sullivan, grab a glass of water. Hurry.”
Sullivan ducked into the bathroom, going for the plastic cup they kept on the back of the sink. He heard the water turn on.