Wildfire

Chapter 40

Lexie barked out a humourless laugh. "What, you haven't heard? There's a reason Aiden keeps me around. As long as I'm alive, he can't die. Not really."

I shot Slater a startled look, but he didn't seem surprised by this development. "What you mean, 'he can't die'?"

"I don't really know how it works." Lexie shrugged. "It's one-sided, to his advantage. If he dies, instead of crossing over to wherever the hell dead people go, he re-appears a few hours later near me."

A lot of things seemed to slot into place at her explanation; why familiars even existed, why they were treated like possessions instead of people. If you had some sort of insurance against death, wouldn't you want to control who had access to it?

But that insurance policy was a person — a human person. Horror surged through me. How many familiars had had their identity stripped, their independence stolen, all because the person they were bonded to feared their own demise?

"I'm surprised you let your little girlfriend out of your sight, Grumpy."

My stomach lurched when I realized Georgina was talking about me. I reached for the dial with the intention of switching it off — this wasn't really something I wanted to hear — but Slater batted my hand away.

"Can't let you do that," he said quietly. "If she gets herself into trouble and I don't hear about it, I'm fucked in more ways than one."

There was no trace of amusement in his voice now and the change from his usual, casual mood was startling. I withdrew my hand from the dial, my brows furrowing.

"Slater promised he'd take care of her," Diego mumbled, sounding displeased.

I bit my lip, an uncomfortable feeling stealing over me. I didn't like this.

"You need to get used to the separation," Marco said quietly. My stomach lurched at his words, but I knew he wasn't saying it to be a dick. His voice was laced with compassion. "The rules —"

"— are there for a reason, I know," Diego murmured. "Believe me, I know."

He defeat in his voice, the way he acquiesced to Marco's authority so quickly — it reverberated inside my head for a few seconds before the realization dawned on me. My fingers curled in distress as comprehension rocketed through me — in that split second, I knew exactly what his plan was.

Last night hadn't changed a thing.

I had been pleading with him to live, and he'd been...

Collecting his last memories, I thought.

Because he was still going to get himself killed... and he was banking on the fact that I wouldn't even remember his existence.

"Pull over," I croaked.

Slater shot me a concerned look. "What?"

"Pull over!" I shrieked. He studied my face for a moment before he pulled the car up along the edge of the road. He barely had it parked before I was scrambling out of the front seat and stumbling over to the row of hedges lining the tarmac.

My stomach heaved and I threw up, pain lurching through my body.

Of course he wasn't holding out for an, I love you; he wasn't holding out for anything anymore. Whatever I gave him between now and the full moon, none of it would matter. Nobody would remember what words were spoken, whose skin was touched, what kisses were pressed to whose body.

I wondered how one second could mean everything and yet be so completely and utterly meaningless.

I emptied my stomach into the bushes, a numb feeling stealing over me. Slater appeared at my side with a handkerchief and I took it from him with shaky hands, unable to meet his gaze.