The Lost Souls (The Holy Trinity #2.5)(19)

Everything he had—his wife, his daughter—could all be gone in an instant. One little attack on their camp, a raid gone bad, the appearance of a half-out-of-his-mind dragon hybrid who just so happened to be his best friend’s wife’s soul mate… Okay, maybe not that last part—that was all Xan’s problem—but everything else…

Nico didn’t have enough time. He wanted decades and decades with his family, but in a world like this, where survival was spotty at best…

“I gotta go home,” he said, jumping up and swinging his leg over the bench.

Xan smiled up at him. It wasn’t a happy smile. Xan didn’t have much to be happy about, but it wasn’t a sad smile either. It was a deliberate smile, and seeing it, knowing his friend was going to hurt like hell for the rest of his days because the guy had lost what Nico still had—in his trailer…with Tobar—had him running.

He burst through the door and found the scene much as he had left it. Only now, Michaela was sound asleep in Becki’s arms and Tobar was still sitting far too close to Becki.

Grabbing Tobar’s arm, he yanked his baró off the couch and shoved him toward the door. “Time to go,” he growled.

Tobar’s eyes turned white. “What the f*ck?” he hissed.

“Nico!” Becki cried as she got to her feet. “You promised you’d—”

“Shut up,” he told her, reaching for the sleeping baby. Gently, he took Michaela out of her arms and offered her to Tobar, who, for a moment, only stood there gaping at him.

“Take her,” Nico said. “Take her to see Maisera or Nadya and spend some quality time with your family.”

Stunned, Tobar glanced to Becki, who looked equally stunned.

Nico rolled his eyes and tried again. “Take her.”

Although bewildered, Tobar took her, shifted her into a upright position, and wrapped her tiny body up inside his coat. With one last long look at Becki, Tobar was finally gone.

Nico was on Becki within seconds of his departure, hauling her up against him and yanking down her pants. While he was down there, he slung an arm under her bare bottom and heaved her up over his shoulder.

Quickly crossing the trailer, he threw her down on their mattress, his hands curled around the back of her knees, and in one swift move, he pulled her body to him, thrust his hips forward, and sheathed himself inside her. Becki cried out, her hands scrambled for the sheets beneath her, searching for something to hold on to, something to keep her grounded. But he wasn’t going to let her; he pounded into her without regard for her comfort or pleasure because this wasn’t about love, this wasn’t even about getting off. This was a free-for-all, a spin into oblivion with not one goddamn thing to keep themselves tethered to this awful reality they were all stuck within.

“Fat?,” he said roughly. “Pan? la moarte…”

She didn’t respond.

“Dupa moartea,” he rasped.

“Nico,” she gasped, her eyelids fluttering. “Nico…”

“No,” he growled. “Mereu…say it, so?ie…”

“Mereu!” she cried. “Te iubesc, mereu!”

Becki might not have meant it, but it didn’t matter. She was his, he was hers, and he was going to milk every second he had left with her. Nico was going to devour her, use her up, drain her dry, and then come back for more, over and over again until they were nothing but bones, nothing but dust.

And even then…

He’d still take her.





Chapter Eleven


“We’re nearly out of food.”

Hockey glanced up from the small fire he’d started inside an empty paint can to where Mira stood above him. She was shivering, gaunt, and tired looking. Hell, they were all cold, tired, and hungry. Winter had been raging much longer than anyone had expected. He felt certain the worst of it should have passed by now, that spring should have sprung, but instead they were still in the thick of winter. Storm after storm continued to rage through the city, leaving them trapped inside and unable to search for food.

For weeks now, they’d been rationing what little was left of their stockpile, eating only meager meals once a day in an attempt to make it last.

Mira dropped down beside him and pulled off her gloves. Holding her reddened, chapped hands near the fire, she rubbed her palms together in an attempt at warming them.

“What’s left?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Some dried fruit, a couple of cans of vegetables.”

Hockey reached up and pulled his Blackhawks baseball cap down over his eyes, something he often did when he was thinking. Someone would have to leave the building to get food, and no one was going to be able to survive out there…except him. He had enough internal fire to keep a nice bubble around himself that would shield him, but it wouldn’t last forever. He guessed he would be able to pull off a few hours of consistent use until he began to tire, leaving him little choice but to release the element. Whereas his affinity for fire was strong, he didn’t embody the element, he was simply a funnel, a conduit, a connection between the ether and the earth. He could channel that power, use his body as a spark to light the flame, and then direct that flame, tell it where to go and what to do. But eventually, as with any sort of physical exertion, it would take its toll.

Flicking up the brim of his cap, he reached across the small space and grabbed Mira’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, giving her a friendly squeeze.