Page 81 of Obliterated
I’ve never been much of a hugger—probably never hugged anyone before—but since I found him soaked from head to toe in red, I’ve been clinging to him like my life depends on it.
Every couple of hours we’ve tested his blood. So far, nothing. But we won’t know for sure unless we get a proper test at the centre, and we can’t. Not that it matters, anyway. The amount of rain he had on him… there’s just no way he isn’t infected, and yet it can take days before it shows in the blood.
I fear the day it shows, because itwillshow. There’s no denying that.
There’s also no denying I haven’t feared much in my life. But the possibility of losing Kee… it fucking rattles me.
I take a breath, pull him tighter, and sit down on the bed. Kieran settles on top of me, fingers tangling in my hair as his mouth descends on mine. It’s early morning after another night of nightmares that ripped me open. I keep hearing the scrape of my knife when it slid into her skull, that ghastly, half-human wail she made even then.
It still sounded like her.
It’s not only the sounds that keep haunting me, it’s the sight as well. The way she tilted her head, the way she bled out, the way I held her, lay there for hours clutching my Tass until my tears dried, until my body stopped shaking and I had to let her go. Let go of the only friend I ever had, let go of the kids we used to be.
A full-body shiver wrecks through me, and I push it down, down,down.
“What?” Kieran asks as he pulls back, cheeks already flushed. We’re half-dressed; I’m in sweatpants and a tank, he’s barely in anything, just a pair of shorts.
“Got any more of that olive oil left?” I ask against his mouth, deflecting like a pro. It’s like my demon wants him to take the pain away. The monster inside me is addicted to Kieran. When I have him, when I make him ours, everything else falls away: the scrape of that knife, the wail, the thrash of her body.
Our Kieran laughs against my mouth, that wicked tongue of his striking my bottom lip. I’m more than happy for the distraction, and open up for him. I want to claim him, devour him.
The itch is still there, crawling under my skin: the hunger to maim, to kill, to let the darkness loose. But when I have him in my lap it… quiets. The roar backs off a notch. It’s not as loud, not as demanding, not the all-consuming thing it can be. Usually, it can only be satisfied by killing. Driving my sword into flesh and bone until the shadows slide out of me.
It’s different now. Lighter.
He mounts me, pushes closer, and gods, I love the way his skin feels under my palms. I rake my nails down his back and press my face to his shoulder to inhale the smell of him.
When I pull back, his gaze drops to my neck, and his voice goes soft.
“The wound looks better,” he says. I freeze. His eyes go wide. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—I just—”
“It’s okay,” I cut him off. I don’t mind. It’s an ugly mark where she clawed and bit me. A reminder I’ll wear with pride.
“It’s just that—”
A loudbangfrom the living room cuts him off, followed by footsteps barging in the apartment. Kieran freezes, his head jerking toward the doorway.
“What the—” I scramble, pull Kieran off me and get up. My weapons,where are my weapons?
I scan the room.Shit. Everything’s in the living room. My adrenaline spikes—hot and sharp—and my hands go stupid for a second, like they don’t belong to me.
“Kieran, get behind me before they—” I start, but the fear in his eyes makes me think faster. “Quick, between the headboard and the mattress.”
He dives, fumbles, and comes up with a couple of blades in sheaths, slamming one into my hand as if he’s handing me a lifeline.
As I unsheath mine, I urge Kieran around the bed, away from the hallway door and toward the balcony. The only possible escape route since there are voices coming from the hall. First low, then cutting clear: “They must be in the bedroom.” A woman’s voice I know too well. “Since those stupid swords of his are here, they must be home.”
“Shit.” My heart rate kicks up a notch and I yank at the balcony door, pulling the rotten wood until it almost splinters free. We’re five stories up, but Tass’s apartment is below ours and itwouldn’t be the first time I’ve scaled it.If I can just drop Kieran first—
I’m too fucking slow.
The other door gets kicked in. My first instinct is to hurl the knife at the nearest man that bursts through, but the world answers with metal. Four barrels trained straight at our heads.
Watchers. My own fucking men.
My hand drops. My heart kicks like it wants to break out of my ribs.
If I had a dozen of them alone with Whisper in my hand, I’d carve them into a million pieces without blinking, letting them feel my fucking wrath. But bullets don’t care about how much I want it. I can’t do a damn thing against a gun pointed at the boy who stole my heart.
