Jocelyn grimaced, no longer pretending to be my best friend. Her expression practically shouted, Dirty Fae. She jabbed a finger down the corridor. “Second door on the right. Be back in five minutes or you’ll be docked pay. Oh, and Tarik?” At my raised eyebrows, she finished with, “Don’t let me catch you in the medical room again.”
“Oh, you won’t.” She tapped a foot, so I added, “Ma’am.” When she waltzed back into the Green Room—as the Fae were calling our new work zone—I muttered to myself, “You won’t catch me next time.”
On autopilot, I made for the bathroom, subtly peeking into each open door I passed. This was the second day in a row I had seen Reagan down here snooping around. At least, that’s what I thought she was doing. I hadn’t crossed paths with her since the evening she shifted into lion form right in front of me—which, I admit, was rather impressive.
That evening, though . . .
My steps slowed. I had thought about that meeting over and over until I’d memorized each and every word we had shared. Words I regretted. The guilt, the shame of knowing my actions had caused her harm . . . I’d had a weak moment. I had said things, opened myself up in a way I’d not done in years, and now I wished I could take the whole conversation back. The offer of truce, the false hope, the show of friendship.
Because seeing her wearing my shirt with the hem past her mid thigh, feeling her soft hair between my fingers, had turned the dull ache I’d felt in my chest for the last three years into a sharp throb. And watching her wings splay wide, so white and pure and clean, had ripped the scars right open.
As she’d taken to the sky, I’d crashed to my knees, unable to draw air into my lungs for several agonizing seconds. The memories from that night three years ago still haunted me, never allowing me peace. And that evening with Reagan, I’d started down a path of making the same mistakes I’d sworn to myself I’d never repeat.
Getting too close to her was dangerous. Getting too close to anyone was dangerous. Something dark inside of me sought to destroy—and not just those who got too close. This black, oily presence wanted to snuff out every spark of joy I managed to light.
Bad luck.
Everything I touched turned to ash eventually. It was only a matter of time before the darkness inside me consumed the female lion shifter—who I had once thought an angel. A small smile tugged at my mouth. Took me long enough to figure out she’d flown me to her apartment the night I’d lost consciousness in that alley. She had risked so much and was already paying the price.
Branded. Like cattle. By her own father.
I stared unblinking at the glistening white bathroom wall. A hot wave of fury ignited my blood and I punched the tile, reveling in the bark of pain.
A branded angel. If she’s a white angel, then I’m the black demon in the shadows waiting to drag her down to hell. My stained soul was already corrupting hers.
As I made my way back to the Green Room, there was still no sign of blue and black hair. But, even hours later—as my back screamed and head pounded, leaving my entire body sapped of strength—I kept an eye out. The sooner I saw her again, the sooner I could put an end to this torture.
—
“Tarik! Tarik, help!”
I wrenched my eyes open, for a horrified moment thinking my nightmare had come to life. After a few blinks, the soft morning sky and flat rooftop of my apartment building swam into view. A breath shuddered out of me. Benji’s mop of unruly blond hair popped over the roof’s edge. I frowned. He never came up here this early, knew this space was off-limits while I meditated.
“It’s my mom! She fell again, and—and this time, I think she really hurt herself. Tarik, come on!”
In a flash, I was up and scrambling down the ladder after him. We ducked into my apartment before charging into his, the sound of soft whimpers coming from their small bathroom. I stopped cold when I saw her right ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. Gaia, no. This wasn’t happening. Not now.
I blocked the view from Benji, ordering him to feed Callie. He complained but did as instructed when I said I’d forgotten to feed her yesterday. With him out of the room, I knelt next to his mom, running my gaze over her trembling body. A tangle of blue veins could be seen through translucent skin, her arms and legs rail thin.
In a word, she could be described as breakable. Her mysterious condition had grown worse this last year, to the point where she hardly ever went outdoors. For a Fae, that was almost worse than death. I carefully touched her arm, always worried that no matter how light the pressure, I’d leave behind bruises.
Her blonde lashes fluttered. “Tarik,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
I bit my lip, hard, frustrated and hating how she saw herself—as a burden. “Don’t apologize, Haven. This isn’t your fault.” I bent so my face was near hers. “Can you put your arm around my neck? I’ll get you into bed.”
She tried. Gaia, she tried. But she was too weak. I gingerly draped her arm over my shoulders and prepared to lift her. The act took no effort—she was skin and bones—but she cried out in pain and I gritted my teeth. I didn’t know how much longer her body could fight this illness, but I did what I could to ease her suffering.
It was the least I could do. I didn’t really believe the gods had abandoned our kind, but I wholeheartedly believed that I was cursed. This healing ability of mine was proof of that.
