Page 78 of Heavensent & Hellbent

Dad

Fine, but next time let me know in advance.

I got up, conscious of how short the jersey was once I stood up. “I need to shower,” I said—and I did. The jersey clung to me from the fever I must have had. And while I did feel gross, I needed to get out of whatever haze I was in right now—being so close to Zain was…difficult, to say the least.

He stood, crossing the room to retrieve a clean towel and a T-shirt from his dresser. “First door on the left,” he said. I took the towel and T-shirt from him and practically bolted.

I took a long shower, scrubbing my body until it was pink. In front of the bathroom mirror, I wiped away the condensation and studied my face. I looked the same as I always did, though there was this glow within me, and not just from the hot shower. My eyes were brighter, cheeks pinker, fuller almost, my lips a plum pink. It was like I was dull before and now light and color had been brought back into me. My body swayed to the left, like there was an invisible string attempting to lead me to Zain. And this was why people didn’t unlock their past selves.

Each time I shut my eyes, new memories emerged. They were not wholly clear but flashes of moments that had stuck out to each of my past selves. Moments that they could never forget. I could block them, I realized, if I concentrated on forcing themout of my head. I needed to, like now, when one of my selves showed me what Zain—or, rather, Younes—had done to her when she was last naked before him. But then, in shoving that memory out, another emerged, of myself ripping a man’s body apart with my bare hands to protect Armeen. Or at least, that was what she told herself she was doing. I glanced down at my hands. These hands had those powers, I just needed to know how to yield to them.

Another memory: Gol in an alleyway in Mashhad. A stream of water running by the side of the road, the sound prominent before footsteps ran in. Five men in all leather, grinning with their yellowing teeth. These were not jinn but angels, specifically jinn hunters. On their hips were daggers that they would use to kill me, to carve out my heart and wave it around as a prize.The jinn princess slayed once more.Majid was in his home, unaware. I raised my hand—they had underestimated me—and shot out fireball after fireball, not caring about their roars of pain, their anguish as they burned alive. It was either them or me.

I was jolted out of the memory and gripped the edge of the sink, panting. My hand was slick against the porcelain and I slipped. I caught myself with my other hand, forcing myself to straighten up, to stand firmly on my two feet. Like it or not, my past selves were telling me something. Showing me what I was capable of. I had to learn from them if I was to survive this.

I left the bathroom in Zain’s oversized T-shirt. He was lying on his bed, a book in his hand. He glanced up, and his gaze traveled downward, to my lack of clothing, and back up to myface. I might have thought he was unbothered by it if it were not for the bob of his Adam’s apple giving him away.

“A little nighttime reading?” I said, unsure how he could read, or focus on anything, right now. “Or morning, I guess.”

“I was trying and failing. It’s difficult to care about Heathcliff and Catherine at this very moment,” he said, discarding the book on the bed. “Are you feeling better?”

“As good as someone who has both jinn and angels after her can feel.” I had aimed for my tone to be light, jokey even, but there was a prickle to my voice.

Zain got up from the bed and crossed the room to me. I wasn’t expecting him to be inches from me so fast, and my heart began beating quickly once more. He drew me into a hug and whispered into my wet hair. “I won’t let them get you.”

I hesitated for a moment before giving in. I wrapped my arms around his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. “They’ll kill you, too.”

“Let them try,” he whispered, moving an inch away to meet my eye. “I’ve seen the many ways they have killed us, but I’ve also seen the many ways we fall in love—the joy we have in each other. I can’t…unsee that.”

“I don’t know what’s our feelings and what’s theirs,” I whispered.

His hand moved underneath my chin, raising my head so I could better meet his gaze. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face and found myself shutting my eyes.

“I know I felt the same way I do about you now as I did then, before I had these memories. This just…heightens it,” Zain said.

“I’ve always felt drawn to you. Like if you’re near me, I have to be nearer to you. But now it’s even stronger. Even now, you’re so close, but I feel like it’s not enough.”

“Roxana, look at me.”

When I did, I noticed his eyes on my lips, which then parted, my body a traitor, desperate for him to take that as a sign.

“We…”Shouldn’t.But being this close to Zain, I wasn’t sure why we shouldn’t. All I could think was that we had been killed time and time again, and here we were, alive, not yet murdered, together.

He inched closer, lightly brushing his lips across my cheek. I stopped breathing and felt that tightening and loosening inside me all over again. He was so much taller than me and had to bend down so his face was level with mine. I reached up to allow him better access, and one of his hands rested on my waist, steadying me. The moment was fragile, and still, and I both loved and hated it. I wanted him to just kiss me, but was equally terrified that once he did, we wouldn’t be able to stop. The air was too thick, too much, my pulsing need for him overtaking all my senses.

I inhaled and then expelled Rabiya’s feelings for Zain—Zal—and it lessened. The needy desperation eased, but my desire for this version of him, an attraction that had always been there, stayed. That was mine alone.

“What do you want, Roxana?” he murmured, his nose traveling down from my cheek to my neck. I gasped quietly at the feeling of his warm breath against my throat.

I couldn’t say anything—didn’t know how to say what I wanted in this moment. I pressed my body gently into his.

“Roxana?” he asked again, kissing the sensitive spot beneath my ear.

“You,” I gasped. “I want you. I want…this. When we die, I want us to have had this.”

He stilled at that, moving his head back to look at me. “We’re not going to die,” he said with a certainty that seemed impossible.

“We’ve seen the ways we’ve been killed—”