The scent of the ocean was gone. The wind shifted. It no longer felt like we were flying.
Instead, we were plummeting, the course of our fall being guided by the murder of ravens surrounding us.
When I felt us slam into the freezing ocean, the water strangled my screams as we were pulled deep into the eerie depths of absolute darkness.
Panic clawed at my chest, but the sensation eased when Vin's hand smoothed over my back to rub the dip between my shoulder blades with calm strokes.
I wasn't sure what was happening to us. I was still so furious with him but in spite of my rage, I... I feltcalmin his arms.
Right now, he was my only anchor.
The last thing I remembered was burrowing myself into his embrace as unconsciousness swept me away.
Chapter two
Jungle Predator
Thiswasn’tthefirsttime I dreamt of dying.
For years, I’d have this reoccurring nightmare of my heart giving out. The thing that sucked about that was it always started out as a normal dream, then the anxiety would hit me from nowhere.
I’d dream about doing some mundane task or another—brushing my teeth, taking a shower, organizing my bookshelves for the millionth time. Often something would take me by surprise, like an enormous spider jumping at me from nowhere, or a rock being thrown through my window, or the author of my favorite book series ending the last book on the worst possible ending.
Whatever it was, my pulse would spike, and my heart would give out. I’d drag myself to my bathroom and just barely pull myself up to the medicine cabinet, only to find the prescription bottle of little red pills empty.
Ever since I discovered the heart condition was nothing but a lie and the red pills were to suppress my thirst, the heart attack dreams had stopped.
But the dreams about dying hadn’t. Now it was usually death by starvation, where that bone-deep hunger wouldn’t go away no matter how much I consumed. Then there was the somewhat more favorable death by blood loss. One of my mates—usually Corry—would lose control over their thirst while we were screwing and suck me dry, fucking into me with my final gasping breaths. It was dark, but I preferred that one over the most frequent variation of the messed-up dying dreams, where I’d slowly rip my own head off.
Drowning was new. Peaceful, even, with its sweet, soundless darkness and the water currents sweeping over my body like a lover’s caress.
No, thatwasa lover’s caress.
The arms caging my body against rock-hard, masculine heat were familiar in their possessive grip.
Vincent.
This was also new. Usually, when I dreamt of the hybrid, it involved his magical shape-shifting extremities along with me flat on my back. He was never present in the dreams where I died. Maybe because I knew if he was around, he’d do everything in his power to keep me alive.
My feral king was too selfish to let the devil have me.
I caught something dark playing behind the fae’s eyes, and flames licked up my spine when he brought his lips down over mine.
Vin always kissed me like it was life or death.
This kiss was just as urgent as the others, but this time there was no trace of his brutal dominance. He held me to him so tenderly, as if he was afraid I might snap in his arms. The ocean was as cold as death, but the fire radiating from his fae form went to war with the frost filling my veins. As we sunk toward the seabed, my lungs seared hot, screaming for air.
My eyes drifted shut.
I was suffocating.
My mind went slack and my vision blurry. I released a sigh, but the last vestiges of my air were pushed back into my lungs.
What?
My eyes snapped open when Vin gave my body a vicious shake.
I woke up with a gasp. Once again, the air was pushed back into me.
