Khaosti is staring at me as though I’ve grown horns and a tail. I actually glance over my shoulder at my ass just in case. But no tail. I suppose I should be glad he’s not running away screaming.
Can our fledgling relationship survive the revelation?
I hope so.
“Say something,” I mutter.
He swallows. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Join the club.” I study his face but can’t work out what he’s thinking. “Do you hate me? Do you think I’m evil?”
He considers the question, but then the tension leaves his body, and he smiles. “You can’t help who your father is any more than I can. And I would never believe you to be evil.”
At his words, the tension leaves me as well. Without it, I’m a soggy mess. The adrenaline was the only thing keeping me upright, and now it seeps from my blood, leaving me shaky and weak. And hurting. And hungry.
I look around for somewhere to sit and stumble toward the shade of a huge tree—sufficiently far away from the dead bodies that I can ignore them—and collapse to the ground. Khaosti follows me, then stands staring down at me with a frown on his face.
God, it’s good to see him. “I thought I would never see you again.”
“And was that a bad thing or a good thing?”
“Don’t joke.” I shudder. “It was horrible. And I felt so powerless. I hate that.”
“How did you remember?”
“I think I gave up trying. Or maybe I gave up worrying. Hecate was right—I was scared of what I might remember. And it turns out, I had good reason. I’m Lucifer’s daughter. How did that even happen?” I’m hoping Hecate will be able to fill in the blanks. “But I decided it didn’t matter. I’m good. I know that deep down.” I place my hand on my heart. “In here. And once I accepted that—I remembered.”
I rub at my forehead, and his frown deepens. “Are you okay?”
“Mostly, I’m just tired.”
Khaosti hunkers down beside me. “Let me take a look.” He reaches out toward my throat. I’d forgotten about the wound and the bandage, which is good—presumably, it’s healed. Khaosti slowly unravels it, peeling it away from my skin, and whistles under his breath.
“Shadowguard?” he asks.
“Who else?”
“Bite?”
“No teeth. Just claws.”
“Good.” He strokes a finger down my throat. “The wound looks clean. No swelling. You’ve probably got some immunity to the poison after last time.”
“Lucky me.”
“It looks like it’s healing well. What other damage?”
“Nothing bad. My ribs are a little bruised.” I wave a hand over to where Trystan’s body is sprawled in the long grass. “The asshole kicked me.”
Khaosti hisses. “I wish I could kill him again.”
“Me too.” I frown. “What did Trystan mean?” I ask. “Those last words?”
“I have no clue. And I don’t fucking care. He was likely just trying to make trouble. But he’s gone.”
I close my eyes and settle back against the tree trunk. I’m alive, and I really didn’t expect that. Khaosti’s with me, and I didn’t expect that either.
He drops to the ground beside me. Nudging me over a little, he leans back against the trunk of the tree and then moves me so I’m sitting between his outstretched thighs. His arms come around me. “Backup is on the way,” he says. “All we need to do is wait.”
