Page 51 of Revenant

When I shake off my maudlin thoughts, my gaze clashes with his stormy pale eyes, and the insecurities bombarding me melt away. There is no hesitation or doubt in his expression. Not once has he faltered in his belief in me. Not once has he questioned my word.

With more confidence than I feel, I lift my chin and blurt out my horrible idea. “I believe the afterlife is healing me. It wants me to survive to do its bidding.”

I lick my lips, ignoring everyone but Jameson.

If anyone can understand, it would be him.

“I think I can call upon the afterlife and force it to heal you.” My breath halts in my chest, my nerves jittery from equal parts daring and stupidity. “It’s a risk. There is a chance that it could kill you instead.”

I fork my hands through my hair and rake my fingers roughly through the strands, barely noticing the bite of pain as I struggle with my decision. “If they used my blood for whatever serum is now floating in your veins, my touch might increase your chances of survival.”

I’m not aware I’m pacing until I almost run into a large body. I instantly recognize Gunner from his sheer size alone. I dropmy forehead to his chest with a solid thud, hoping I’ll be able to shake loose another way to help them that won’t put them in danger.

And come up with nothing.

Defeat slumps my shoulders. Before I can drown in my misery, Gunner lifts my chin. “We knew the doctor was experimenting on patients and accepted the risks when we decided to rescue you.”

I open my mouth to scold him but halt at the glassy look gleaming from his dark blue eyes. I reach out with a trembling hand and press my palm to his face. The heat of him nearly sears my skin, and I brush away the little beads of sweat gathering around his hairline. Heart in my throat, my voice is a rough whisper when I speak. “You’re already sick.”

“Stop your fretting.” He grabs my hand, then brushes his lips reverently over my knuckles. “I’ll be fine.”

I wrench away from him and smack his chest for good measure. “I’m so mad at you for getting involved that I could hit you.”

His eyebrows climb to his hairline, and he blinks innocently, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You mean again?”

It’s all I can do not to stomp my foot.

As if he knows I’m seconds away from a meltdown, he cups the back of my neck. The intimate connection is calming, relaxing me enough to think rationally without my fears clouding my head.

“You are not responsible for the actions of others,” Hicks says, and my eyes widen at the fact that he didn’t automatically blame me, not like last time. My expression must show my shock because he winces. “You can test your theory on me. If it works, then you can help the others.”

“Say what?” My mouth drops open, my brain not processing that he would willingly trust me…then the horrible truth strikesme with the force of a speeding train, robbing me of breath. “You’re feeling the effects as well.”

I lick my dry lips nervously, the pressure of their expectations suffocating. Now that they want me to use my abilities, I’m second-guessing the wisdom of the idea. Nothing good can come from messing with the afterlife.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice anymore.

If I want them to live, I need to take the risk.

Hicks stalks toward me with a determined expression, and I’m not surprised that he views life as something to be conquered. We’re surprisingly similar in that regard, he just goes about achieving his goals differently.

My thoughts scatter as he stops in front of me, radiating man in charge vibes like he’s trying to compel me to obey. The look is very effective. If I hadn’t had a life full of violence and pain, his intimidation tactic might have worked.

He pushes into my space, leaving mere inches between us. Maybe I should be apprehensive, especially after the last time he confronted me, but the cocky man from that night is gone, replaced with one who is begging me to trust him.

He pinches my chin, tipping my head back, like he’s willing me to see the real him beneath all the bullshit. He radiates a natural magnetism that draws the eye. It’s the same with celebrities—you can’t help but look at them. It comes so naturally to him that I don’t think he can help it.

“It shouldn’t be too hard for you to experiment on me, princess.” His green eyes dilate, shards of yellow splintering the color. His nostrils flare, then he leans in closer, as if he can’t resist the lure of my scent. His voice turns growly when he speaks again. “It’s okay. I give you permission to do what you want to me. I trust you.”

I’m not sure if I want to punch him for putting that pressure on me, or hug him for actually saying the words.

Because I believe him.

He takes a step back, allowing me time to process his offer instead of bullying me into doing what he wants. I study him with narrowed eyes, searching for the trap. As if sensing my reservations, his eyes soften, the green color bleeding back, and I realize he is genuinely trying to do better.

He waits patiently, giving me the choice to either start fresh, or reject him once and for all.

As much as I want to stay mad at the asshole, I understand why he did it.

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