All green lights.
But Remy’s thought patterns?
They’re running loopyas fuck.
“You’re venom-drunk?” I ask carefully.
“Blood-drunk,” hehmmsagainst my scalp.
I shiver. “Same thing.”
“Not when it’s your blood.”
Great. How long does it take to sober up a vampire?
Do I feed him coffee?
Maybe let him drink a hamster?
While I ponder what to do with him, Remy’s muscles spasm.
His loopy thoughts crater, turning dark and twisty.
Frowning, I move my hand over his heart. “What are you thinking?”
Remy’s out of giggles.
He laughs a heavy, bitter chuckle. “Memories.”
“If you’re remembering, you’re healing. You can be the old Remington Azrid and help us fight the next battle.”
Remy covers my hand. His light touch flattens my palm against his chest.
Our gazes lock.
His heartbeat slows.
His eyes burn deep, deep, dark, but his tangled emotions settle as he stares into my soul.
My stomach flutters.
I swallow. “What? You really wanted to abandon your post?”
“I remembered something.”
“Something that can help us fight the monster?” Or did he dredge up another fun update on my menstrual cycle?
“If you keep healing me, I fear I’ll remember everything.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Iris.” His ragged whisper pebbles my skin. “That man will kill me.”
I stroke his jaw, trying to give comfort. Mostly, I’m confused. “Are we still talking about you?”
“Yes. The general. The soldier. He died so many times, I thought only the monster remained in this shell. When the darkness fades, I hear his voice.”
It’s normal for Sentinels to show different sides, depending on their level of spiritual corruption. I’ve never heard of one who considers his sides to be totally separate people.