Right now, I need to stop a catastrophe.
I reach the basement in no time at all, and then, oh hail, there it is. Cassian is setting a tank filled with water right on the table in front of murder number one, the wife. Her hands are tied behind her back with zip ties, and her husband is right beside her. Mark sits on the opposite side, watching with a terrified expression that looks like it might crack his face in half.
Cassian is back to his usual self.
“Hey there, soldier,” I say, appearing right behind him. Just like Nathaniel, his whole body flinches. Unlike Nathaniel, he doesn’t reach for a weapon like I’m a threat. A second later his shoulders loosen, and he turns to look at me.
The surprise is in his eyes, alright, but my powers don’t seem to be at the top of his list, because he doesn’t even mention them.
“Hey,” he murmurs, sliding a hand to my waist and pulling me in close.
I turn solid just in time for his touch to land. It feels almost instinctive, like my body attunes to him before my mind can catch up, and before I know it he’s hugging me in front of our lovely audience.
“Weird, I thought Nathaniel’s little poison didn’t work on you anymore,” I mutter into his neck.
“It doesn’t,” he says. “But I’m still glad to see you.”
Something about that melts my bones.
“I’m glad to see you, too,” I murmur, and then I pull back just enough to look at him. “How is your wound?”
Cassian unzips his jacket and angles his body so I can see the bandage wrapped around his torso. It isn’t soaked through anymore, and I can’t see much beneath the gauze, but the sight still lands like a punch. It still feels like shit to look at proof of what I did.
“I hope you know I didn’t mean to shoot you,” I try to joke.
“I hope you know I will wear this scar with pride,” he replies, completely serious.
“Don’t,” I say automatically. “I’ve given you enough scars already.”
His gaze flicks over my face. I don’t know how he’s done it, coming from the place he came from, but he has truly mastered the I love you gaze. It’s right there, plain as anything, like he can just set it in front of me and wait for me to trip over it.
I don’t have time to fall into that trap. We both know how it always ends. I let go, I let him do whatever he wants to do to me, and he always wants to do a lot. By the time it’s over, it’s like I’m operating with half a brain. Not this time. I take one more step back, and then I press my palm to the bandage.
Heat floods down my arm. Beneath my hand I feel him, not just skin and bandage, but all the layers under it. Threads ofmuscle, the messy geometry of torn tissue, bruised blood vessels trying to remember what “whole” means. I pour a little of my power into it, and it answers like it has been waiting. His wounds stitch themselves up.
Cassian inhales sharply. “Skye…”
“Shh,” I murmur. “Don’t distract me.”
The pressure beneath the bandage releases. The hot throb in his skin quiets. Even the bruising drains back from the edges until there’s nothing left to chase.
Perfect. I knew it was going to work, but this was almost insultingly easy.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Cassian’s eyes stay locked on me. He swallows once, his throat working. “You couldn’t do that before.”
“Yup, I couldn’t,” I mutter, and then I grab the edge of his bandage and peel it back.
The skin underneath is closed.
All right.
I do not linger on what that means, not with everything else pressing in. I came down here for a reason, and it was not to stand around admiring my own abilities. I take another step back, putting a little more space between us, then point at the couple.
“Listen,” I say. “I know you wanted to kill these two fast, but I need you to pause that for me.”
Cassian’s jaw tightens. The change is immediate, like a switch flips behind his ribs.
