Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(40)

I repeat the reminder in my head as I reach for the winds. The nearest Southerlies are several miles away, ambling through a stretch of empty dunes. They shift toward me when I whisper their call.

I hold Vane’s gaze as the winds form the first tendrils of his cocoon. “You must come back,” I order.

“Hold on to me and I will.”

His honest trust, his willingness to face such a challenge for me—not to mention the intensity in his eyes—makes my guilt burn hot in my hands. In my heart.

I stuff the pain as deep as I can shove it. Then I whisper the last command, close the cocoon, and Vane’s gone, tangled in the silky strands of Southerlies.

I catch myself holding my breath and force air into my lungs. I have to keep my head clear. Be prepared for anything.

Vane’s limbs stay locked in place as his body lifts off the ground. No thrashing or flailing like the Northerlies caused. It’s hard to make out his form through the sandy gusts, but I can see his face and he looks peaceful. Happy.

I remember that feeling. The Southerlies carry pure bliss.

My nails press into my palms as I count the passing seconds, watching for the breakthrough to occur. The longer he’s at the wind’s mercy, the more he relinquishes control.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

I live an eternity in each moment. I could have destroyed our only hope with this hasty decision.

Fifty seconds.

A minute.

“Come on, Vane—you can do this!” I shout over the gusts.

Sixteen more seconds pass. Then the winds unravel, fleeing to freedom.

He had the breakthrough.

His body collapses on the bed of palm leaves, and I call his name over and over. He doesn’t stir, but I take his hands the way I did when he was fighting the Northerlies, ignoring the guilt searing my skin as I do.

His eyes remain closed. He doesn’t so much as twitch.

“Breathe, Vane,” I order, squeezing his hands harder. “You promised.”

No reaction.

I shake his arms, trying to rock him awake. “Breathe!”

Nothing. Even when I pound on his chest with my fists.

My heart jumps into my throat as I watch his lips tinge with blue. I have to do something—anything.

I’ve seen groundlings blow air into each other’s mouths, trying to jump-start the lungs. But I can’t risk forming a bond to Vane. And that might not even work. His lungs aren’t the problem. It’s his mind whisking away, following the alluring call of the winds. Wandering too far from his rightful place.

The blue spreads from his lips, painting his face with a gray pallor.

I grab his shoulders and shake as hard as I can. His head lolls and falls limp.

I can’t just sit here and watch him suffocate. Even if his lungs aren’t the problem—putting air into his body has to help.

I refuse to let myself think about what I’m doing as I lift his chin with shaky hands.

“It’s not a kiss,” I whisper, saying it out loud to stand as testimony. “This is a lifesaving measure. Not a kiss. No bond will form.”

No bond. No bond. No bond.

I will not bond myself to Vane Weston.

No. Bond.

I take a trembling breath—barely able to believe what I’m about to do as I place one hand on each of his cheeks.

“Vane!” I yell. “Vane, wake up.”

Nothing.

Tears burn my eyes as I stare at his blue-gray lips.

Now or never, Audra.

I lean closer, whispering in his ear. “Please don’t leave me, Vane.”

I didn’t plan to say that—but I don’t have time to analyze my word choice. I suck in a huge gulp of air, holding it in my lungs as I part his lips with trembling hands and lean in.

No-bond-no-bond-no-bond-no-bond.

Before I make contact, Vane’s body thrashes with a hacking cough. His forehead crashes against my chin, knocking me backward as he rolls to his side, gasping for breath.

I rub my smarting jaw with one hand and wrap my other arm around myself, trying to calm my shaking. I can’t make sense of any of the emotions washing over me. All I know is: Vane’s alive.

He wheezes and struggles for a minute before he catches his breath. I sit to the side, feeling too much like I’ve had the world yanked out from under me then shoved back into place to do anything except watch.

I want to tell him how much he scared me. How close he came to leaving me behind—to leaving everyone and everything behind.

How much I’d been ready to risk to save him.

But he doesn’t need to know any of that.

When his color returns and his coughing calms, he sits up, smooths his hair, and meets my eyes. “Told you I’d come back for you.”





CHAPTER 23


VANE


My legs move like two soggy noodles as Audra drags me through the grove toward my house. I’ve been tired before. Been beaten up before. Shoot, I survived a tornado—and even though I don’t remember what happened, I remember every ache and pain in the days that followed. But I’ve never experienced anything like this.

I feel empty. Like everything that makes me me oozed out my ears, leaving just a shell of Vane.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the pull of the Southerlies. It felt like I was a kid again and my mom was promising everything would be all right if I just did what she said. Her voice sounded different, higher and softer than usual, but the words still coiled around my mind and heart—and the more I tried to shove them away, the harder they latched on.