Page 62 of Above Cursed Winds

“Get away from me.”

This time, there was no hurt, no betrayal in those familiar features, only resignation and weariness. The writing was on the wall: Gideon had all but given up on him.

***

Jeremiah lost himself in Mario Kart. Sehrin had taken a brief reprieve to take care of business in Houston, leading Myko to ask Jeremiah for another tournament.

Gladly accepting, he’d adopted the same attitude he’d had around Myko since day one: genuine and carefree. It wasn’t the boy’s fault Jeremiah had made a mess of his life, and he wouldn’t let that affect their friendship.

Zia had collapsed on the couch next to him, having worked herself into a frenzy getting dinner ready whilst adamantly refusing Jeremiah’s multiple offers of help. Her fingers traced an absent path over his back, a gentle reminder he wasn’t alone.

After he’d lost his temper in the confrontation with Gideon, he’d retreated to the lighthouse. He’d stewed on what’d happened, seething for all of five minutes before Zia had tracked him down.

The saintly woman had talked him off the ledge and dragged him back to her home where he’d promptly lost seven tournaments in a row to The King of the Kart.

Now, the polite knock at the door spiked his anxiety all over again.

Zia answered the door and pleasantries were exchanged. Not at all surprised to hear Nero’s voice among the gathered, Jeremiah didn’t give the newcomers a single glance when they all entered the room.

That didn’t stop Rona from approaching and perching politely on the sofa next to him. Softly, she said, “I’m glad to see you, Jeremiah. We’ve all been worried.”

At his silence, the vampire continued, quieter now. “If you need to talk to someone, I’d encourage you to. It doesn’t have to be me, or Gideon, or Rukia. Just someone you trust.”

Jeremiah held his tongue, though he longed to spew a sarcastic comeback at her. Rona simply squeezed his shoulder and left when it became clear he wouldn’t respond. At the squeaking of the couch, Myko turned around with a wild look in his eye, having suddenly realized they were no longer alone.

Blinking wildly and mouth opening in a wide grin, he paused the game and leapt to his feet. “Are you Gideon? And Rona?”

Thus began Myko’s eager interrogation about all things Elemental and vampire. Zia joined in, correcting her son’s rather brazen questions with a polite overtone, and Jeremiah all but tuned them out.

He closed his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees, wishing he could be anywhere else. He’d stayed in Hawaii to get away from Gideon, not to be stuck at a dinner party with the man.

Beside him, the couch suddenly sagged. Instinctively knowing it wasn’t Myko or Zia, he glanced up with a half snarl.

Nero.

The Raeth sovereign wore a knowing half-smile. “If I agreed to teleport you anywhere in the world, where would you choose?”

“Preferably an active volcano.”

“That painful, huh?” Something in Nero’s voice made Jeremiah sit up straighter, take stock of the other man. “We all have scars, Jeremiah, some visible and others soul deep. Try as we might, we can’t remove them, but we can learn to live with them or move past them, even if it’s painful.”

An errant vein of sarcasm struck him. “And how should I let my soul be seen, Nero? Carve out my heart and give it to you all in offering?”

A knowing look, too soft for happiness, lined Nero’s face. “Perhaps.”

“Come on over, sovereign, Jeremiah.” Zia’s soft call interrupted them.

Remorse sat heavily in his gut as he approached the dinner table, choosing to sit as far away from Gideon as possible. Conversation flowed easily between Rona, Nero, and Zia, all three of them engaging with Myko’s barrage of questions about life in Paracel.

Myko was fascinated by the fact that Rona drank Gideon’s blood. Oblivious of the awkward nature of the subject for the adults present, he asked about how she was able to control the earth after feeding on her mate. Once Gideon let it slip that there was another vampire who could control fire after drinking from his Elemental wife, the boy almost started to bounce in excitement.

Jeremiah couldn’t help but smile at Myko’s innocence, his passion for learning. The kid was brilliant, soaking up facts and information like a sponge, and eagerly told them about how he’d learned to adjust cabinets and help with the carpet.

“And after he fixed my sink, Jeremiah told me that I was his best friend,” Myko said proudly, beaming at their guests. “I’m hoping he stays here with us forever.”

And suddenly, Jeremiah couldn’t breathe. His fists clenched unwittingly on his fork, hovering frozen above his plate, and Gideon did much the same. Unknowingly, the boy had gutted both men for vastly different reasons.

Though he’d echoed the words back to Myko to hear them mimicked back made it real somehow. It made the monumental chasm between him and Gideon seem insurmountable.

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