I imagine sitting on Connor's couch, inching close to him, his eyes locked on mine.
Connor, Nadia, the fog, even the drink are trapped behind a glass shield in my mind, trying to break free. But evil lurks in the background. Bogging them down, trapping them. Just like me.
Magic! I can combat that evil. I call forth my inner spirits. They crash through the barriers that hold me captive.
I fall downward. The ground vanishes. My emotions flood through my brain like the air whooshing around me.
“You bastard!” a man shouted.
I tossed aside the blankets like I tried to cast away the remnants of my dream.
Voices, raised in anger, awaken me. Thumps and a crash of furniture draw me from the bedroom.
I stumbled into Connor's living room, my brain still foggy, my body weak. “Drew?”
***
Connor
The hot stream of water soothed my aching muscles from the physical abuse of last night's events. I braced my arm against the shower wall and let the cascade wash away my doubts from last night and my recent soulbond. I smiled. Aylin and I were imprinted. I couldn't wait to explore what that would entail.
I shut off the water and stepped from the shower, towel drying quickly. I needed to check on Aylin. She had passed out after healing me from the poison, and I carried her to my bed. Still, worry gripped me.
I had flipped out over that, but one frantic call to Bryn, and I learned that it was normal to rest after depleting one’s power in order to heal. I worried about the poison. Aylin's essence had wrapped around the filthy strands and tugged them away. But she seemed like she was in so much agony because the tendrils loosened their grip on me and latched onto her. Did the poison work its way through her body like it did mine? Was it trying to kill her?
I looked at my imprint, saw no signs of darkness, and hoped Bryn was right. I prayed that Aylin was just resting and not fighting something darker.
Throughout the early morning hours, I checked on Aylin. She rested like a rock. Not moving. Sound asleep. She didn't appear to be in distress, and it was good to know that she didn't snore.
I pulled on a pair of sweats and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. My stomach growled in agreement.
Within minutes, bacon sizzled in the skillet. I whipped up some of my favorite stuffed French toast. Aylin wasn't one of those women who worried about carb counts. Hell, she was curvy in all the right places and knew how to accent her hourglass figure.
I placed the bread into the skillet, grinning like a fool when the smell of vanilla and cinnamon filled the kitchen. It was homey. Domestic. I never thought of myself as a Betty Crocker, but with Aylin, I would wear that crown with honor.
Insistent pounding at my door interrupted my homey thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I wasn't expecting any visitors. I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel, slung it over my shoulder and walked to the door.
I doubted any satanic bastards would knock before pursuing me or Aylin.
“What?” I opened the door. I shivered. My body wasn't reacting to the chilly air, but to the deathly glare I received from the youngest member of the pack—Aylin's brother, Andrew.
“You bastard!” Drew shoved past me.
“Sure, Drew, come on in.” I shut the door and returned to the kitchen to flip the French toast.
“Where is she?” Drew stomped to the kitchen, then the living room, before heading back to the bedroom.
Before he entered the hallway, I blocked his way. “Hold up, man.”
“I want to see my sister.” Drew pushed forward. “I know she's here.”
“Drew, calm down, man. She's sleeping. It was a rough night for us.” I held up my hands to block another push. The half-moon on my wrist glowed.
“You bastard!”
Drew swung his fist through the air. I blocked the right hook, but his left jab connected with my jaw. I grunted.
“Okay, man, that's your only freebie for the day.” I gave him an opportunity to back away, but the son of a bitch swung again.
I didn't think twice. I tackled him at the waist. We went down, demolishing my coffee table.
Wood chunks littered the floor. Glass shattered as we rolled around. I could have dropped him quicker, but didn't want to hurt the young pup. Plus, Aylin would be pissed if I did.
Drew kicked, hitting my stomach right below my liver. I gasped. “Fuck!”
“Drew?” A confused and pale Aylin leaned against the wall.
“Aylin.” I scrambled to my feet and stepped toward her, but the smoke alarm chirped. “Ugh.” I raced toward the kitchen.
Aylin and Drew's footsteps followed close behind.
I grabbed the smoking skillet from the stove and tossed the burnt French toast into the trash can. I tossed the skillet into the sink. Smoke bellowed up from the water. “Shit.”
Drew grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his bloody lip.
Grabbing a towel, Aylin waved it back and forth in front of the alarm to clear the smoke. Once the annoying chirping stopped, the silence became deafening.
“Well.” Aylin jumped on my island, her bravado falling short with her shaky hands. “Something smelled wonderful before it burnt to ashes.”
I grinned, pretending not to notice how frail she looked. “Oh, it will be wonderful.” I pulled eggs from the fridge to start over.
“Aylin, what the fuck?” Drew stalked toward her, eyeing her imprint then my own.
“Hey, man,” I said, “watch how you speak to your sister.” Couldn't he see how weak she was?
Drew narrowed his eyes. “Mind your own.”
I walked toward the island. Aylin's face flushed. I cupped her chin and placed a gentle kiss against her lips. “I am. Aylin's mine.” I left no room for doubt in Aylin's mind or Drew's.
She shoved me backward. “I—” she placed way too much emphasis on that one word “—am my own.”
I linked our fingers together. The strands of our imprints joined in a dance
