Shadow Reign (Shadow Puppeteer Book 2) (23 page)

A few steps and then I could rest. I shoved Rex through the doorway and crossed it, feeling nothing more than the soft sway of feathers dancing over my skin. It was over in seconds and the doorway closed right behind us. I dropped the transporter in the dirt, thrilled that we were in the woods and there wasn’t snow.

If only I could see the moon, but the inner haze was closing in quickly.

B
urning wood and the comfort of bare skin pressed against my back woke me very quickly. Rex made a bed of leaves for us and used our clothes as blankets. I ran my hand over my chest. The wound was completely healed.

“You look surprised,” he stated.

His rough voice was the best sound in the world.

“Yeah, you didn’t bury me.”

He laughed, rolling onto his back to stretch. I watched the muscle play just under his skin, tempted to touch him, but kept my hands to myself.

“You’re a werewolf,” he stated.

I nodded. The wolf blade injury wouldn’t heal unless we transformed. It made sense why World Congress would want such a weapon. “That’s how World Congress got wolf pelts. They infected the werewolf, forcing them to change in order to heal themselves.”

Rex grunted. The events were still too fresh to talk about. He was completely alone now, and I couldn’t pretend to understand. I was use to people passing through my life, but Rex actually had a family. This made him a rogue. There was a wall that surrounded his emotion. I could feel the excess anger radiating.

His warm fingers played over my spine and the touch was what I needed. I felt Rose and Draken under my skin, though their spirits weren’t literally with me. My body fed on their energy and their residue was very much an unwanted part of me. I’d need to do more than wash my skin to get rid of them. At least his touch made me feel slightly more normal.

“What now?” Rex asked.

I stood, collecting my clothes. I wasn’t comfortable with the fact that I couldn’t remember running around with Rex as a werewolf. What did we do in that lost time?

“I need to go to Mississippi and help the Diablos get rid of World Congress,” I answered.

He stood, collecting his clothes too. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to part ways. He was the closest thing I had to a friend. I put my clothes on, mindful of my heavy heart. The warmth was instant as I got a barrier between myself and the wind. Before I could grab my shoes, he caught my hand and gave it a squeeze.

This was it. He was going to follow me into battle. Selfish, I know, but I wasn’t going to tell him he couldn’t come, especially since I was looking forward to having someone that kept me grounded.

I couldn’t face myself alone. I couldn’t stand to be alone with just my thoughts and the death screams echoing in my head. I squeezed his hand to keep mine from shaking. It was wrong, so very wrong, but something within me wanted more. This was madness; I was madness and he was willing to follow me.

“To a free world,” he said.

He had no idea what that would entail.