Page 112 of Revenge of the Forgotten

It had been forty years—forty years since she’d kissed the man whose soul was bonded to hers. Bridger licked at her bottom lip, begging for entrance, and as big a mistake as Vega knew it was, she let him in. Their tongues slid together like they were revealing a secret. Slow and cautious at first, and then ravenous with the need to know more—to know what they’d missed while being apart.

The little voice in the back of her mind quieted, turning into a soft undertone, but Vega knew she had to escape. She would do anything to escape.

Her hand slid from Bridger’s hip, moving down the curve of his body—gods, how she missed the feel of him.

With a control she didn’t know she possessed, Vega pulled her lips away from Bridger and kissed a line down his jaw. Bridger groaned, fighting his own internal battle. “Do you want to know the real reason I never told you what Marlena said to me before she killed me?” Vega pulled back, meeting his gaze.

The hunger behind his eyes made her almost give in to the temptation she felt—just one last time.

Bridger’s voice was pure gravel, his hand gliding to the spot on her chin he always loved to hold. “Yes.”

Vega swallowed, steadying her breaths, and leaned into his ear. With one hand on his hip and the other hovering over the hilt of his dagger, Vega spoke the truth. “Because I never had anyone I was willing to test the theory on.” She nibbled at his ear, drawing him in. Bridger’s breath hitched. “After everything you’ve done to me, I finally don’t care whether you live or die.”

Vega leaned back to look him in the eyes as she slid his dagger out of its sheath and struck him right through the heart. Her eyes didn’t leave Bridger’s, watching his emotions jump from lust to shock to betrayal, and back to cold and unreadable—the Bridger she was accustomed to seeing over the last forty years. But then the pain set in, and it was so strong she too could feel it.

There was pain, but life didn’t drain from his eyes. Vega twisted the knife in his chest. “I guess Marlena’s right. We are gods, Bridger.”

When he dropped to his knees, Vega crouched at eye level and pulled the dagger out. She could still taste him on her lips, could feel his heartbeat pounding in time with hers.

She met his cold but very alive gaze. “Now you know what it feels like when I loved you even after you killed me, even after you chose my sister over me. You know what it feels like to hold on to hope that you’d come back to me, that you’d change your mind—like a knife to the heart.” Vega stood. “I would’ve loved you until my very last breath. I would’ve kept the promises you couldn’t keep.”

And then she walked into the Demuto forest with his bonded dagger still in her hand.

45

Bridger and Khort had been by the portal in silence for hours. Khort started to pace, driving Bridger mad as the seconds bore on. “Will you sit fucking still?” he barked, whipping his head to face him.

“Can’t. Have to keep moving.”

They’d felt Vega stir about a week ago, meaning Arlet found her on Earth. The tingling got more aggravating as the week came to an end, and this morning, the tingle turned into a burn that could only mean one thing: Arlet and Vega were close to home.

Bridger wanted to step through the portal and find Vega himself, but neither he nor Khort were right for the job—they could feel Vega here, once she was back in Tolevarre, but they couldn’t sense her on Earth until Arlet made contact. The sisterhood they had before the summoning made their bond work differently—each of them had something the other didn’t.

They’d tried to convince her to let them go with her, to help find her faster, but whether they wanted to admit it or not, Bridger and Khort knew they had to stay here and keep their people safe. The small but growing rebellion was at risk if they weren’t there to fight if needed.

This was Vega’s fourth life, and they were no closer to figuring out how to break the curse than they were during her last. There just wasn’t enough information about the type of curse Marlena created.

“You’re driving me mental. Please sit down,” Bridger begged, running a hand through his hair. It had been months since he’d had a proper haircut or even a shower that wasn’t cold as ice.

“I can’t help it. I need to move or the burning will drive me mental.” Khort kicked at a small rock while he paced, sending it back and forth with a pitter-patter sound.

Bridger used the wind he’d gained control of over the last year and sent the rock hurling through the air, far away from Khort.

“Hey!” Khort whined, stopping himself finally.

“Oh look, it worked,” Bridger said with a hollow breath.

“Dude, you’re about to get your girl back. Why are you so grumpy?” Khort had let go of the outward animosity towards him over the last few years, but Bridger could still hear the sneer in his voice when he said “your girl.”

“Because what if she’s not Vega again?” Bridger asked, hurling himself into a dark place he didn’t need to fall into. “What if she’s even farther away from the person we love?”

Khort’s back tensed. “She’s always Vega, Bridger.”

Bridger wanted so badly to disagree, but they’d had this fight before, and it got them nowhere. The two were finally at a place where they could consider themselves friends and partners in this rebellion, despite what the others might think of him—Bridger didn’t have the energy to push right now. “Who knows what this last life has done to her.”

“It’s only been two years. Maybe Arlet got to her in time,” Khort said with optimism Bridger didn’t feel. It seemed the shorter timespans fucked Vega up more than the long ones did.

They’d been at this for ten years… How much longer could they keep it up before Vega wasn’t herself at all anymore?

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