A fact.
“Do it,” I said, desperate gaze not straying from Dax’s face.
I grabbed onto his cold hand, bringing it to my lips. “Don’t die. Do NOT die. Not like this.”
Ryker splayed out his hands over Dax’s chest. In less than a breath, his hand began to warm underneath my fingers.
But he still didn’t move.
Gods, why wasn’t he moving?
“For the love of Xamor and Solkar.” Ryker grabbed Dax’s chin, opened his mouth, and pressed his own against it, blowing vital air into his lungs.
“Come back, come back, come back,” I chanted, delirious.
Just as another piece of my heart fractured, Dax’s hand flinched.
He yanked it away from mine.
With wide eyes, he pushed Ryker off him, turned to the side, and vomited murky water.
Finally, the tears I refused to let loose spilled over my cheeks, hot and freeing.
He was alive.
Gods, he was alive.
My hand reached out for Ryker’s, a silent thank you when words failed me. His skin was so cold. I nudged closer to him, gluing my body to his to give some of the warmth which had almost boiled me alive.
“You’re so warm,” he said, alarmed. He pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. “You have a fever.”
I shook my head. My power still simmered deep within me.
They were scared.
So was I.
Dax spat out more water, heaving so hard, his spine contorted.
When he’d gasped enough air back into his lungs, he turned back to us, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a grimace contorting his face.
He raised his palms, flexing his fingers with ease, shock sparkling in his wide eyes.
“I’m alive,” he whispered.
“You are.” My tears fell harder. “Ryker saved you.”
“Thank you,” Dax mumbled, as if pained to say it.
“You’re welcome,” Ryker said just as reluctantly.
A laugh wrenched itself from my lips. It sounded like a cry.
Dax leaned back, propping himself onto his elbows, as he stared at the crack which had almost claimed his life.
“What was–what just happened?” he asked, voice hoarse.
Ryker and I looked at each other, the same heinous realization reflected in our gazes.
