Shannon Messenger - Let the Storm Break

She leans closer, giving me a peek down her tiny black tank top—but I’m more interested in her face. Her lips are twisted into an expression I can’t read. Half smile, half—

She tackles me.

I know I should say something—do something—as she wraps her arms around me, but I’m still trying to process the fact that she’s actually here, nuzzling her head into the nook between my neck and shoulder. Her hair tickles my cheek and her lips graze my jaw. I tilt her chin up, bringing her mouth up to mine.

She stops me before the kiss but stays close enough that I can feel her smile.

She’s teasing me.

She knows it too, because she giggles against my cheek.

Giggles?

Since when does Audra giggle?

Before I can ask, she leans in and kisses me. Everything else drops away.

I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks, but it’s different than I pictured, and not just because she’s lying on top of me—though that is a welcome addition.

Everything about her feels cold.

Her hands.

Her breath.

I feel myself shiver as her lips trail down my neck, and even when her skin touches mine, the rush between us feels more like pricks of ice.

I pull her closer, trying to warm her up—but why is she so cold?

I want to make sure she’s okay, but she kisses me harder—almost desperate—and I lose myself again, until I’m covered in head-to-toe goose bumps.

Since when does Audra kiss first and talk later?

And since when does she climb on top of me like she’s here to fulfill all my fantasies?

The last word feels like a slap to the face.

This is a dream.

But why aren’t I waking up? Why is she still pulling me against her, running her hands down my back—

No.

It’s not her.

As much as I want it to be, there are no sparks, no heat.

With Audra there’s always heat.

This is a lie.

A trick.

Another evil trap Raiden’s using to punish me.

I try to pull my mind free, but Audra fights back, locking her arms around me and kissing me again and again.

“No!” I shout, pushing her away.

She starts crying then. Telling me she loves me. Needs me. Can’t face another second without me. Everything I always wanted Audra to say.

“Not like this,” I whisper.

I want my strong, stubborn dream girl back, even if she’d attack me with questions—and probably a few wind tricks—long before she’d ever seduce me.

But that girl suddenly feels very far away.

Too far away. Like my consciousness has been dragged under by whatever wind Raiden sent, and no matter how much I beg my mind to wake up from this sick, twisted nightmare, I can’t find the way out.

I can’t move.

Can’t breathe.

Audra crawls back to me, whispering that everything will be okay. She kisses my neck, my chin, my lips.

I want it to be real so badly.

Maybe if I just pretend . . .

A wicked pain rips through my finger and yanks me back to reality.

I peel open my eyes and find a panicked Gus leaning over me, my pinkie smashed between his teeth.

“You bit me?”

He unclenches his jaw and I stare at the jagged line of punctures in my skin.

“I tried everything else. I even punched you in the stomach. Biting was all I had left.”

I’m betting there was still a better option than chewing on my hand, but who knows? I can feel the sore spot on my stomach where he must’ve hit me—and I didn’t feel a thing. Raiden had me pretty good that time.

“How did you know where to find me?”

Gus rolls his eyes. “You really didn’t know I followed you? What kind of guardian do you think I am?”

I sigh, trying to figure out how I’m going to explain this mess to the Gales. But I guess it’s a good thing Gus isn’t as crappy at his job as I thought.

Panic stabs my heart, so sharp it knocks me out of the sky.

Red and black rims my vision, making it impossible to see which way is up or down. I call the nearest draft to catch me, shivering as the warm Southerly stops my fall.

I’ve never experienced this kind of pain before. A tempest deep in my core, growing stronger with every breath. It only rages harder when I realize what it means.

Vane’s in danger.

Mortal danger.

The word makes me tremble, and I order the wind to change direction, letting our bond point the way. The path to Vane is laced through my heart—but the connection feels so faint.

Too faint.

Getting weaker every second.

If something happens while I’m gone I’ll never forgive myself—I’ll never recover—I’ll never . . .

The thought has no end.

There will be nothing without Vane.

I call every nearby draft, commanding them to swell into a torrent. But I know it won’t be enough.

I close my eyes and search for a Westerly.

There are none within my reach, so I shout the call, not caring if it gives away my location. Still, it feels wrong branding the wind so boldly.

A tranquil breeze sweeps in from the west and I coil it around the others, struggling to decide which command to use. Combining drafts is a game of words—coaxing them to cooperate or daring them to rebel. I’ve practiced with the other winds for most of my life, but the Westerly tongue is new. A secret power I stole from Vane with our kiss. One I’ve barely begun to master.

“Come on,” I whisper, sending the plea to the sky. “Tell me what to do.”

All I hear is the pulse in my veins.

Tears streak down my cheeks and Vane’s face fills my mind. I can picture every curve, every line. The perfect blue of his eyes and the dark brown of his warm, earthy hair.

But it’s a thin shadow of the reality.

I can’t let this memory be all I have left.

“Please,” I whisper, feeling the word sweep off my lips in the Westerly language. “Please help me.”

The words are a breathy sigh mixed with a soft hiss, and the harder I concentrate on them, the more a cool rush builds in my mind, twisting and spinning until it shapes into a word.

“Unite,” I whisper, and all the winds tangle into a bubble around me. “Soar.”

The stars blur to streaks as I rush forward, and I tell myself that the power of four will help me reach him in time. But his trace still feels so distant.

Why did I run so far away?

I’m not sure where I am, but I know I’ve been flying north for weeks. Even with my frenzied speed, it’ll be hours before I reach him.

All I can do is hope and fly.

But after a few minutes the pain in my heart drains, leaving me cold and empty. The shock breaks my concentration and the winds carrying me unravel.

Vane’s not . . .

I can’t even think the word.

The searing pull of our bond returns, jolting my heart back to a rhythm and helping me regain enough control to grab an Easterly. But I’ve fallen too far and there isn’t enough time to stop myself from crashing into cold, churning water.

Dark waves swell around me, nearly splattering me against four columns of rock that jut from the ocean near the shore. I steer myself away, struggling to keep my head above the water as the next wave washes me to the rocky sand. My body shivers as I gasp for breath, but I can’t feel the cold.

I’m numb.

Empty.

But my mind echoes with the only thought that matters.

He’s alive.

Is he safe, though?

I can’t tell.

His trace feels steady but weak.

I try to get up, but my insides writhe and I roll to my knees, choking and gagging up the water I swallowed in the ocean. Sour bile coats my tongue and I spit it into the retreating waves until there’s nothing left. Still, I continue to heave, like my body is trying to purge all the dark, sickening truths I’ve been trying to deny.