Page 63 of Crave

Tanner strode toward my cell at a pace that was human slow, showing the Manix soldiers his back, a definitefuck youmove. “Omega, are you injured?” His tone was soft, and I was so glad we hadn’t told anyone of our relationship yet.

I let him see how pissed I was in my eyes, and then I turned on what I liked to consider the Omega waterworks. I burst into tears so hearty, I could have won an Oscar. “They were so rough, and I cut myself as they dragged me from the car, and they hurt my Alphas, and…”

“Hush, Omega. I will check on your Alphas after I make sure you’re okay. Can I see your wrist? I’ll see if I can do anything to help… stem the bleeding.” I held out my self-inflicted wound that was barely more than a scratch. “I will personally talk to the Alpha General about your treatment.”

I huffed out a breath. It would have to do. The dumb-fuck soldier had been right; these were the new Alpha General’s rules, and he couldn’t shirk them any more than we could.

“Is there anything else I can do to ensure your comfort?” Tanner’s voice was professional and even, but his eyes promised death to whoever put me in there.

“I’m okay,” I whispered back. “Thank you, Tanner.”

“I’ll come back and check your wound tomorrow, if this ridiculousness isn’t over by then.” His voice was hard, and when he turned back to the soldiers, they flinched away.

Yeah, safe move, fuckers.Tanner was a nice guy with a definite cinnamon roll center, but he was still a walking death machine.

When he left, I’d never felt more alone. I moved back to the hard bed. If I breathed deeply, I could smell Jericho in the sheets. I tried not to think about what else could be living in that bedding, instead taking the comfort where I could.

Eventually, the soldiers left and I let go of the emotions I’d been holding onto tightly, curling myself into a ball and crying until I fell asleep.

It wasdark outside the tiny window when I woke. It was too small for anyone to climb out of, and too high up to use for the view unless I stood on the bed. Standing on the bed end, I could barely see the first breaks of dawn across the plains, painting the sky and the grass pink. I’d been in here for twelve hours then. The longest twelve hours of my life.

“Susannah?”

A voice beside my ear shocked the shit out of me. I fell forward, my arms windmilling like I could fight gravity, but I was going to land on my face for sure.

Instead, I landed on something hard, but not concrete-hard, hovering a few inches from the floor.

“What the actual fuck?” I hissed to nothing.

At least, until nothing chuckled back. “Sorry. There’s no way to politely make yourself known if you don’t have a visible form.”

“Bowie?” I squeaked. I patted the nothingness beneath me. “Is that you?”

“Yep. Sorry, I didn’t know if I had enough effect on the physical world to catch you. Using myself as an air mattress seemed like the best bet.”

I sat up and he groaned. Shit, was I hurting him? How could you hurt someone who didn’t have a body? I wiggled, trying to climb off him, but two hands came up to stop me.

“Fuck. This is what that feels like? No wonder Jericho spent the better half of our teen years jacking off.”

I was sitting on his ghost dick. As if just thinking about it made me more aware of the fact that it was a body underneath me and not air, I could feel the hard press of what could only be one of two things: a dick or a bottle of Dr Pepper.

I scooted off him, climbing back to sit on the bed. “How are you here?”

The bed sank a little beside me. “Quinn and Jericho decided that you needed support in here, someone to give you answers and act as a go-between because they won’t let them in. Quinn can feel your sadness and your anger. He’s…” I knew what he was, because the bond worked both ways. “So they went and woke Electra from her bed, explained who we were, who our grandfather was, just really laid it all out there. She still decided to help us, which, not gonna lie, was a bit of a surprise. I’m not really any more real than I was, but I’m strong enough that you can feel me and hear me, and that’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“But how?”

How was he away from Jericho?

How could I hear him, but even better, feel him?

A hand brushed down my arm. “Over there, beneath the window? There's a small chunk of moonstone. It’s acting as a talisman and an amplifier. I don’t know. I never trained as a witch. I just lead confused souls to the Pearly Gates—that's it. Jericho is the warlock in the family.”

I walked over to the window, looking for the stone he was talking about. I sifted beneath the bed, and there it was, the cloudy blue rock that was bringing Bowie to life. Kind of. Picking it up, I felt a jolt of the magic, and the presence of Bowie got stronger.

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to feel him. Jericho said they were identical, so in my mind's eye, I knew what he looked like. But I still really wanted to touch him, feel his features beneath my fingers. Breathe him in.

“Can I?” I lifted my hand, and I felt his hand wrap around my wrist. A cheek touched my palm, and I stroked downward, feeling his sharp jaw with smooth skin, none of Jericho’s dark stubble. My thumb went further over to tug at a soft pillow of a lower lip, and he nipped it with his teeth, making me squeak. The feel of his body wasn’t what I would call average. Less physical and more like a resistance of air. It was hard to describe, but the fact I could feel his tongue flick against my skin was blowing my mind.

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