Page 91 of Echoes of War

Her voice was sweeter than honey in the most melodic way. Pulling the pillow off my head, I tossed it toward her, air magic reflecting it without a glance my way.

I rolled out of bed, kissing the soft skin on her shoulder on my way out. She smirked, a few of her teeth showing through her round lips.Fuck me, I do not want to get out of this bed.

“Morning,” Yasmin said, skimming through the pages of one of Amaia’s favorite books.

She’d left a few here during the nights we would stay up late. I found so much comfort in Amaia’s presence, I’d never opened myself up to exploring another relationship that satisfied the closeness I had with my sister. Lost within the grief of Jax and Mohammed, I’d suffered alone.

Yasmin had just fit into my world. She was grieving too, Mohammed had been her forever until not so long ago. Now he was gone. The same way Jax was gone, the same way Amaia could disappear from the earth’s surface in the blink of an eye without me there having her back.

Amaia and Jax had been my forever too. Not in the same way as Mohammed and Yasmin filled that role for each other. In the same breath, I could claim in full faith that I never saw life outside of the three of us.

Grief appeared to be the binder of most relationships in The After. I mean, even Before, it was that rallying concept that made you seek comfort in the similar. But somewhere in our grief, Yasmin and I had found happiness within each other. That subtle reminder that Mohammed could live on within us. I didn’t expect it to make sense to everyone, but it made sense to us, and that was all that mattered.

I peered out the window, trying to determine what weather would greet me on today’s adventure, “Good morning, beautiful.”

The banging at the door became an obnoxious beat followed by mumbled rapping and a second, harsher knock of impatience.

“I’m coming, Eleanor,” I yelled out. “Knock it off!”

The olive-green sheets pulled around Yasmin’s body and she reached on the floor for one of my shirts. Teasingly, I used my magic to creep leaves of the Pothos plant on the shelf above her to tickle under her chin. Her smile had become my favorite thing in the world.

“I like that girl,” Yasmin giggled, closing the book and sitting up in bed.

“Of course you do. Everyone does.” I pulled some dark blue cargo pants on, splashing some water from the basin at the side of the room on my face.

She came up behind me, arms draped over my shoulders, “It’s early. Off to do important things as an important person?” Yasmin asked, tension in her tone.

“Sure am,” I said, keeping it short.

I watched her in the mirror, taking in her thick, long legs. She was almost my height, her tall frame allowing us to see eye to eye. Those sultry, dark eyes …Snap out of it, Riley.It was best not to tell her the details; there was still a sadness that lingered in her face that I had no business adding to.

She tsked, “Important things like …”

“If you say ‘important’ like that again, with thosekiss meeyes, I may be inclined to tell you.”

“So mysterious,” she said, pulling me into a tender kiss. “Why do you never tell me the details?”

I bit back a groan, not wanting to argue with her. “Because the details make you uncomfortable, despite how much you say you want them.”

“Riley Sullivan, I will never not be impressed by your ability to read a person before they read themselves.” She smiled with her eyes, holding my face as she spoke. “But sometimes, it’s okay to let people make decisions for themselves then face the repercussions of them.”

The banging on the door was going to wake the whole General Living Quarters up if Elie didn’t quit it. Part of me enjoyed her ability to be wild and free, the other part of me hated it. She was a little Amaia in the making and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to have two little monsters running through The Compound.

“Of course it is, just not when I’m around,” I said, not really joking.

It would be a cold day in hell before I would ever let someone I care about suffer again. For some reason, the women I’d surrounded myself with believed hard lessons to learn were the best lessons. If they wanted to do that on their own time, fine by me. But I refused to be the cause of any of their pain and knowing the dangerous details of my day, would only cause Yasmin distress.

I’d expected her to hate me after Mohammed’s death. To blame me, to hold it against me for the rest of our lives. No one could blame me anymore than myself. I was the one who put him there, manning that damned gate. And she did feel all of those things, for a while at least. I hadn’t let it go on for too long. I’d been determined to show her exactly how sorry I was. All of her needs had been met, whether it’d been by my soldiers or me alone.

A monarch butterfly appeared, landing on her cheek, and she laughed softly, releasing the tension in the room. I wasn’t done seeing her smile. Lifting my hand out in front of her narrow, fine features, I grew a rose in my palm, placing it between my teeth and stalked toward her. Yasmin took it from my mouth, kissing me when she moved it to her hand.

“Okay,” I said, “I have to go. See you later?” I gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, tossing my shirt over my shoulders.

Racing down the steps, I threw open the door, glaring at the two imbeciles before me. Elie had a cheshire grin on her face, hands behind her back innocently.

“Long night, son?” Prescott greeted me with a mischievous smile as I pulled my shirt over my head.

“Ooo, are you in there with your girlfriend?” Elie said, trying to push past me into the house, “I wanna meet her, what’s her name?”

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