Page 73 of Born Free

Roman saved me this time. Without his sacrifice of his own soul, I’d be dead forever.

And with a gasp, I remember where we are and what happened just before all the impossible happened. Panic and fear burn through my veins in an instant. “Sebastian!”

My head whips around, and there I see him, lying still and silent on the floor.

“Juliet, don’t!” Roman bellows in panic, desperately trying to grab me.

But I’m gone, scrambling across the floor as curses rip from me.

Sebastian lies in a heap on the ground, his skin ashen and gray. There’s a massive pool of blood spreading out from his heart where he was staked. But it is drying. It is not fresh.

And I know it wasn’t just one hour I was dead. Blood takes hours to dry like this.

I can bring him back. I can bring him back.

“Sebastian,” I gasp as I claw at his clothes, pulling us together. My body feels wrecked, but there isn’t a second to spare. I look down at his still, lifeless face, and lay my hand on the side of his neck, closing my eyes in preparation for the instant punch of death.

Nothing happens.

My eyes rip back open, angry and confused lines forming between my brows. I remove my hand from his skin and lay it back.

Nothing.

I hear a relieved breath escape Roman’s chest.

Everything is uncertain right now. We thought my ability to die over and over was a guarantee, and now we’ve found there are indeed limitations.

“No,” I say through clenched teeth. I move my hand to Sebastian’s cheek. “No.” I reach down and grab Sebastian’s hand. “No.”

My vision swims as tears fill my eyes. “No,” I whisper out hoarsely. “Sebastian, no!”

I gather him in my arms, willing life back into him, squeezing so hard his bones creak. My breath rips in and out of my chest in painful gasps. “Sebastian!”

I lay my cheek against his, and a sob rips out from my lips. More contact, more pressure. There has to be something more!

But sixty seconds pass by. Then three minutes.

My sobs become more desperate as I remember everything he did in the minutes leading up to all three of our deaths.

“Why?” I gasp. “Sebastian, why?”

I don’t know if I will ever know all the rules and limits of my gift and curse. But this trial-and-error way of learning sometimes requires too high a price to pay.

Elena was dead for maybe five minutes when I died for her. With Roman, it was only a matter of seconds the first time and maybe three minutes the second.

But this time was different. I was dead for hours.

Where is the cut-off? Where is that point of no return between five minutes and several hours?

My sobs come uncontrollably, and the world feels as if it’s been exploded into shambles of grief and brokenness.

Roman kneels down next to us, staring at Sebastian’s limp body in my arms. This man has killed Roman twice now, but Roman holds only grief. There is no malice or vengeance in his presence.

Trust me.

“I trusted you, and look what you did,” I sob into Sebastian’s hair. “Damn you.”

When my tight grip causes the sound of crinkling paper, I loosen my hold just slightly. And I notice the envelope sticking just slightly out of his breast pocket.

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