Page 353 of Shadowblood Souls
I press up to meet Dominic, urging him into me harder, faster. Tip my head to invite Drey’s kiss. Tease my fingers down Jacob’s chest.
And then shatter apart in time with Zian’s final groan.
As I quake between the other three guys, our director slumps toward the mattress, spilling himself. His shoulders heave.
Then he drops his head a little farther and presses the most careful of kisses to the ball of my foot where I’ve just lowered it.
Right here with me. Where they’re all meant to be.
But the peal of joy comes with a twist in my gut.
I have to figure out how to make sure they stay with me this time—that none of the villains beyond these walls ever come between us again.
Twenty-Three
Zian
It sure would have been nice if the hotel had come with some kind of vehicle. I guess that would have been too much to ask.
Instead, we’re tramping along through the dense jungle vegetation again, slapping away bugs and stubbing our toes on stones hidden in the underbrush.
I push forward in the lead, because with my size and strength it’s easier for me to smash through the worst of the obstacles than it would be for any of the others. But that also means I don’t have the greatest sense of what’s going on behind me.
Even my supernaturally keen ears are focused more on any hint of danger from farther away than the murmured conversations and weary sighs of our group of shadowbloods.
So I have no idea that George’s teleportation talent is on the fritz until he jolts into view a step ahead of me and promptly trips over a tree root his foot slammed right into. He sprawls forward with a whoomph of breath and then a growled swear word that twelve-year-olds probably shouldn’t know.
I reach out to help him up. “You okay?”
He swipes his hand through his odd white hair and grimaces at me. “Yeah, fine. I didn’t mean to do that. It just starts happening when I want to be moving faster than I am, whether that’s actually a good idea or not.”
His whole face is shiny with sweat, his hair’s usual spikes drooping with dampness. His shirt clings to his skinny frame in patches.
I give him a quick onceover and decide I can pitch in a little more without it affecting my endurance all that much. “Here, why don’t you take a breather on me?”
I heft him up onto my shoulders in a piggyback ride, balancing him over the bulge of my pack. He’s so scrawny I barely feel the extra weight.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says as I tramp onward. “I can manage.”
I shrug—carefully so I don’t dislodge him. “I can too. Just keep your head low so I don’t accidentally brain you on any of the lower branches.”
George ends up resting his forearms gently on the top of my head, letting out a soft sigh that suggests he appreciates the rest more than he’s letting on. He might be the youngest kid here—it’s not surprising he’s tiring out the fastest.
His voice reaches me in a low mutter I don’t think he wants anyone else to hear. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll keep up, really.”
Something about his tone tugs at my gut. I wish I could see his face now to judge his expression, not that I’m the best at reading emotions even then.
“It’s no big deal for me,” I assure him. “I could keep going like this for hours.”
His head droops closer to mine. “You shouldn’t have to. It’s my fault we’re here at all.”
As I snap a few vines that crisscross our path, I frown. “Why would you say that?”
“We wouldn’t have crashed if I hadn’t hit the pilot so hard—because I made that stupid hop when I wasn’t even trying to. I’m always screwing up like that, but that time—that time I screwed things up for everyone.”
Oh. The thread of emotion I caught in his voice before must have tugged at me because it’s so uncomfortably familiar from my own life.
But with the recognition comes an unexpected sense of certainty. The words leave my lips without any hesitation.
