Page 73 of Above Cursed Winds

Unable to remain apart, she reached for him.

He jerked away, the pain and disbelief in his eyes overriding anything else.

Zia knew the instant the mask he’d used after Gideon’s death slid into place once more. Though the storm continued to battle inside him—so similar to the storm battering against her windows—a sudden calm descended over his features.

“Listen, Danzia,” despair ripped into her as Jeremiah used her full name, “regardless of what you feel for me, just don’t be with him. He’s toxic—for you and for Myko. Sehrin treats you like you’re a second-class citizen, like your only value is as someone to serve his own needs.”

Jeremiah growled, “It’s nowhere near the truth. Sehrin doesn’t see you, but I do. You’re an amazing, intelligent woman who’s fierce, protective, and unfailingly loyal. Never believe you’re anything less than that.”

She gaped at him. How had she been so cruel to him, and he’d offered her the most sincere compliment she’d ever received?

Zia could only sit dumbstruck as Jeremiah gently grasped her fingers and brought them to his mouth. A single kiss brushed against her fingers, the softness of his mouth lingering for a long moment. Then he was gone.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Every step he took away from her ripped him to shreds. The painful beats of his heart mirrored the agony he’d experienced as she laid into him, cleaving his soul in two with her words.

He kept walking because she’d asked him to.

For all intents and purposes, he’d served his purpose. Jeremiah had verified Nero’s clan wasn’t directly responsible for loss, and confirmed what they already knew—the Citizens had breached Nero’s clan territory. No one wanted anything more from him. They didn’t need him around.

Heavy rain pelted into the side of his face and body. While he could’ve formed an air shield, there was no point. Fire burned through his veins at her dismissal, and nothing external could soothe the ache that’d followed.

Hurricane-force winds slammed into him, making it difficult to walk. Around him, devastation had already begun: tree limbs were downed, windows were shattered, debris littered the walkways.

By the time he’d made his way to the condo Nero had assigned him, he was soaked to the bone. Rainwater dripped down his body, trickling steadily from his hair and into his eyes.

Tears were no longer distinguishable from rain. A silver lining, perhaps.

Sounds from within—Gideon’s voice—stopped him in his tracks. Jeremiah had forgotten Nero had given the condo to Gideon and Rona instead, leaving him temporarily homeless. Again.

Instead of going inside or knocking, he simply stood on the porch. It offered him little shelter from the hurricane, but for a moment, all he wanted to do was linger. Punishment, no matter from the beating of a fist or the beating of rain, was still punishment.

Half a moment later, the door swung open, and Gideon’s concern slammed into him like an unseen mallet.

“Jeremiah! What are you doing?”

His monarch fisted a hand in Jeremiah’s drenched shirt and hauled him inside. The door swung closed behind them, shutting out the storm, and left them alone in the strained silence of the foyer.

“Rona, grab a towel!” When Jeremiah didn’t respond, when he kept his gaze trained on the floor he’d once slept on, Gideon’s entire being paused. “Jer? Are you injured?”

Molten-gold eyes filtered into his peripheral only seconds later. Two hands, gentle, laid atop his shoulders as if attempting to right him from the weariness that’d begun leaching from his soul. It was all Jeremiah could do to stay standing, to keep himself from curling into a ball and allowing his element to merely take him home.

Home. Where even was ‘home’ anymore?

Paracel? Even the vague notion of the small city iced his boiling blood. It had been his community for several centuries, yet he felt completely dissociated from it now.

No, Paracel was no longer his home. Hawaii had never truly been awarded the title, even when his soul had found fleeting rest among the palm trees, and yearned for the woman who’d just gutted him.

He had no home. Not anymore.

“Jeremiah.”

Two hands had captured his cheeks and forced his gaze up from the floor to stare directly into Gideon’s eyes. Pure, undiluted concern bled from the other man. His best friend.

A man Jeremiah had always respected, adored, and appreciated. One he’d failed more than any other.

In that moment, he knew he had to tell Gideon the truth. It no longer seemed to matter one way or the other, and it was better he be honest now than leave his monarch in the dark. Gideon needed to know it wasn’t his fault.

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