Chapter 18 - Above Cursed Winds

Anger was an old friend, volatile but fiercely protective.

It pulsed beneath the layer of malice he’d developed as armor. When Zia had stonewalled him, his deep-seated fear of abandonment had boiled up, erupting out of his words and actions. The Raeth had her reasons to push him away—after all, he was here to investigate her, and his days were numbered—and she was merely protecting herself from the inevitable.

It still hadn’t softened the blunt edge of her rejection.

Rukia had abandoned Jeremiah to his own devices, opting for sarcasm whenever they interacted these days. Tyee, the fourth wheel to their trio, was away more often than not, and almost never deemed Jeremiah an important stop along the journey of his nomadic life. Gideon’s retreat from his life had been the worst of them all, the most final—until it wasn’t. He’d experienced the devastation of true loss, been powerless to stop it, and he hadn’t ever recovered.

For an immortal, death was merely a mortal machination. A mark on the inevitable revolving door of life where time ceased to continue. Those who weathered time without withering had no fear of something that never grew closer.

Only, Gideon’s end had been messy, avoidable, and utterly devastating. And Jeremiah had sat by, powerlessly, and watched.

The familiar echo of rage burned within him, as fresh as the day it started. He shoved his tools in his toolbox without finesse. Seconds later, he was stalking out of Myko’s room.

Before he even got to the stairs, his instincts prickled. The air around him swelled against his skin, urging him forward, quietly and cautious. Then he heard it.

A sob. A sniffle. Another cry.

Guilt instantly plagued him, and when he saw the woman’s huddled form at the base of the stairs, he winced. From where he stood, she looked so vulnerable, her radiant nature hidden in a slight frame.

He knew her pain was a direct result of his spiteful comments. Soundlessly, he floated toward her, his feet hovering a foot about each stair. He didn’t want to surprise her, but he didn’t want her to run, either.

“I’m sorry, Z.”

Startled, she leapt to her feet and pivoted in a defensive position, a dagger teleporting into her hand within milliseconds. The fire that’d been smothered beneath her tears had reignited, those violet eyes blazing with the shock of his unannounced intrusion.

“Sorry?” She scoffed as the dagger disappeared. “What for, exactly? Insinuating I’m indebted to you or that I’m unable to provide for my son?”

With his own words thrown back in his face, he balked. “Both.”

“I never asked you to work on my house, Jeremiah, and I most certainly don’t need your pity.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m more than capable of working or contracting work on my own home, I simply believed the others had higher priority than I did.”

His features pinched. “I know.”

“You may have made friends with my son, and I’m happy for it, but don’t get off by berating me because you can’t control your anger.”

The words were like a whip against his already battered psyche, slicing open his insecurities. But he’d made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

“As I said, Danzia, I’m sorry.”

Her mouth opened to respond, then immediately became still. A familiar tingle up his spine alerted him to the telepathy that was hailing from the Raeth in front of him, so he held his tongue.

Spreading out his senses, Jeremiah listened to the clamor outside Zia’s home, the kick of the gusty wind escalating far above it. Immediately, they alerted him of the oncoming storm.

The further he pushed the meld of his consciousness into his element, the more his anxiety kicked. Gale force winds whispered to him in wordless voices, warning that an approaching hurricane would likely be devastating if it hit the islands.

As soon as he slammed back into his physical body, he realized his mistake. He’d never warned Zia that his consciousness could effectively disappear into his element. For Elementals, it was as natural as breathing.

Her shrill shout of alarm had him dragging her against his chest to shield her from whatever attack was now imminent.

“Jeremiah!”

His name on Zia’s lips made him look down at her, vulnerable and frightened in the circle of his embrace.

“What?”

“I—you—you were gone,” she sputtered in equal parts shock and chastisement.

Zia shook her head but didn’t make any move to extract herself from where she was curled into his frame. The slight movement made her sweet tropical scent brush against his senses, and her enticing frame pressed further against him.

The kick of desire that suddenly heated his veins turned to a harsh swallow.

“I let my element carry me into the hurricane,” he said. “It’s approaching quickly, and it’s going to be destructive. If Nero doesn’t already know, he needs to prepare for it.”

“He knows,” she whispered. When she looked up once more, they both became completely aware of the intimacy of their embrace. As she opened her mouth to speak once more, Myko cut her off.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

Her son’s shout made them awkwardly jolt apart. Running a hand through her hair, Zia said, “I’ve gotta make dinner.” She gave him a look. “And you’re welcome to stay, no I.O.U.s required.”

Jeremiah’s cheeks heated, but he knew they’d once again leveled the playing field.

“When you say you let your element carry you, what did you mean?”

“I went into the air. My consciousness disappears from my body and exists elsewhere. Have you ever seen an Elemental work?”

“No, I haven’t. It’s fascinating, actually. When you let your element carry you, you psychically read like someone who is comatose.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Or brain dead.”

Jeremiah snorted. “If I didn’t know you better, Z, I’d say that was an attack on my intelligence.”

The glint in her eyes told him more than words ever could.

“Earlier, with the telepathy. Were you being asked for something?” he inquired, following her into the kitchen.

“Oh. No.” Zia shook her head, the long tresses shimmering with each movement. “Nero wanted to warn the clan that storms will be heading our way before the hurricane. There’s a small one coming tonight, then the big one a few days from now. We’re all hoping the destruction doesn’t make landfall.”

Jeremiah frowned. Given the way the winds whispered, the trajectory of the storm would land it centrally over the islands. With any hope, it would change course—the winds were nearly as fickle as he was.

“Jeremiah?”

His attention returned to her face, and judging by the quizzical expression, she’d asked him a question. “Sorry, what?”

“Nero warned us to stay inside tonight,” she repeated, grabbing a tomato from the fruit bowl, and beginning to slice into it like a pro. “Are you staying here, or should I teleport you elsewhere?”

Jeremiah tugged on his collar. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“If I had wanted to kick you out, I would’ve done it by now.”

He didn’t truly want to leave; he wasn’t finished here. Even the wind was whispering for him to remain, though he didn’t want to read too much into that either. The winds were ever-changing.

Instead, he simply nodded. “What are we making?”

Thirty minutes later, all three of them sat around the dining room table enjoying the best homemade tacos he’d ever tasted, the condiments and ingredients sorted perfectly on the table.

“I talked to father today, momma,” Myko said proudly, his childlike enthusiasm beaming across the table.

Zia choked on a taco, coughing down a piece before asking, “You did, Boo? You telepathed him?”

“Yeah! All the way to Mexico!”

Jeremiah couldn’t help but notice the look of trepidation and the sudden anxiety in her eyes. “Wow, baby, that’s wonderful. What did you say?”

“Oh, that Jeremiah was sleeping here, and he was my new best friend.” Myko’s toothy smile was sent his way. “And that I totally beat him in Mario Kart.”

“Well, that’s true, little man. You are the Kart King!”

Grinning, Jeremiah loaded up another taco, and he didn’t miss the brief look of appreciation that crossed Zia’s features. She’d obviously guessed he had been letting Myko win.

“And then father said he’s going to visit soon.”

The smile left Jeremiah’s face. “Oh, yeah?”

An enthusiastic nod, and the boy’s attention was lost again to his tacos. Zia gave him a tight smile and changed the topic. “We’re supposed to stay inside tonight, Boo. How about we play Monopoly?”

Myko scrunched up his nose. “No, you always lose at that game ‘cuz you never make me pay rent, then you get all ‘you’re so good at this game, Boo’ which is just silly, mom. Can we play Exploding Kittens instead?”

Jeremiah burst into laughter. “Exploding Kittens? Is that really a board game?”

“Card game,” Zia failed to keep her grin hidden, “but trust me, it’s good. Fair warning though: you will hate exploding kittens by the end of the game.”

“I’m pretty sure I already had an aversion to any detonating felines, but I’ll humor you.”

Jeremiah winked, and that pretty blush returned to Zia’s delicate features. This was going to be fun.