Page 22 of Our Covenant

“You would be bored out of your mind without us,” I remind him, pointing in the direction I think he’s in. The mix of substances has blurred my vision at this point.

“I’d also be stuck here alone with Maddox and his new archnemesis-slash-obsession. I wouldn’t be bored for long.” His arm wraps around me next, lifting me to my feet.

Unfortunately for Asher, his magical abilities make him impervious to the effects of drugs or alcohol. We’ve wasted a few bottles of Everclear on him trying to test that theory. The hangover still hit him the next day without the benefits of a reckless night. Party drugs are no match for him either. But the universe doesn’t care that he wants to let loose, using his strength and endurance for selfish reasons so he gets all the repercussions and none of the reward. Probably why he lasts the longest during rituals. Using his body for pleasure is the only high he can enjoy punishment free.

“I give him three days and Mads will have forgotten all about Elsbeth. She’s not even that cute,” I proclaim, feeling the cool air from outside give way to the warmth of the kitchen.

“Don’t.” Thorne groans somewhere close by. “She’s beautiful. And fucking hot. Gods, I should have fucked her.”

“She never gave you a chance, dick,” I mock, swiping out a hand, but my palm lands on Asher’s chest.

“No one is fucking that woman,” Asher chimes in, hauling us up the first flight of stairs like we’re toddlers he found half asleep on the couch. “Mads will lose it if anyone goes near her again.”

“I saw her first. I should be able to fuck her if she wants me to,” Thorne slurs.

“She’s not a muffin you licked at breakfast. You can’t call fucking dibs,” I retort, my room coming into focus.

“He’s not wrong, Thorne,” Asher agrees and deposits me on top of my comforter.

“Fuck off. If she wanted me to, I would lick her muffin every day for breakfast.”

We all can’t help but laugh at that. I watch Asher and Thorne leave my room, shutting the door behind them. A moment later, I hear Asher’s voice in the hall before another door closes and the sliver of light is extinguished before silence blankets us all.

Rolling over on my back, I reach over to my nightstand and turn on the sound machine to drown out the deafening nothingness. Rain and far-off rolls of thunder come from it, and the firing of my synapses behind my eyelids start to create a show. Memories and fantasies that I’ve replayed so many times through my life that they may as well have happened clash.

My mother smiles as she reaches back for me. Her hand is always just out of my grasp. The sun blinds me in the distance as we run through the orchard, but I follow the sound of her laughter. “Come on, sweet boy. Follow Mama.”

The strain in my throat tightens around the words that are never loud enough to slow the distance between us. Don’t leave me here to grow older than your memory. I’m so close, but a new vision appears at the fringes of my sight. Long auburn locks dance in the breeze as I get closer. Dark green eyes narrow on me as if she can read my confusion.

With my mother’s ghost long gone, all I can see is this woman. The orchard disappears, leaving only scorched earth under my bare feet. I take a step forward, and she takes one back. Stretching out a hand to her is like trying to grab smoke.

“Come here,” I mouth more than say, and her lips curl as she shakes her head slowly. “Please?”

She doesn’t step back as I inch closer, trying not to move too quickly. When I get close enough to see the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, it’s too late. I realize why she looks familiar.

“I need you, Fox.” Her voice echoes around me without her lips moving.

“I’m right here.” Her skin under my fingers feels like water, cold and restless.

“Come find me.”

“I can’t.” I try to tighten my grip, but she slips away, nonetheless.

Her face distorts and the darkness around us eats up the only bit of light until I’m plunged into pure darkness. I shoot up in my bed, covered in a hot sweat. Tearing the blankets off my body and hurling myself toward my bedroom door, I fumble down the hall to the bathroom.

I have no idea what time it is or if I’m waking up the entire house. The overhead light blinds me momentarily, but I turn to the sink and fill my hands with cold water and douse my face. I can practically hear my skin sizzle on impact.

My entire nervous system is spiraling. I can’t control the shaking of my hands or legs and end up on my ass next to the toilet. The porcelain instantly heats to the volcanic storm raging underneath my skin. The light above my head starts to flicker, and I realize that it isn’t the old electric wires but billowing smoke coming from . . . me. My gift has never manifested on its own, not even when I was first learning how to harness it. But after that dream encounter with Elsbeth, the entire bathroom has gone pitch black with dark clouds of water vapor and haze.

My hand slides up the wall to turn the fan on above, but the sound grates against my sensitive nerves and the air in the room starts to whip around me. A cyclone of storm clouds, light, and a dizzying wind traps me.

“Fox!” I hear someone outside the door, pounding with their fists.

Then comes another.

“Open the door, you asshole! It’s 3 AM!”

It’s Asher.