Page 43 of Never Tamed
The familiar hummed tune returns, snaking through my skull like a razor made of silk—soft, lilting,wrong.
I can’t shake it. Not this time. It seems to have a life of its own, and it snakes down my spine, every note pulling me tighter. Too sweet. Too slow. Like it was written for the dead.
I freeze with my lips on hers.
Red pulls back immediately. “Dax? What’s wrong?”
But I can’t answer because the song is louder now. It’s inside me, growing.
And I’ve heard it before. I know I have. Not only recently but in the past. It’s a part of me somehow.
Then the screaming starts. The screaming, like the song, I recognize on a bone-deep level and can’t place. Then—
Ren is in my arms and through the blur, I note the worry wrinkling her brow. “Dax, talk to me. What’s going on?”
The notes curl in my head, like they’ve been hiding there this whole time, waiting for the right moment to spring up again.
Where have I heard the song?
My blood goes cold.
“Dax?” Red calls again, but this time, her voice is far away.
I can’t answer. My mouth won’t open. My throat can’t form sounds.
She touches my arm. I flinch. Not because of her.
Because of what I suddenly see.
Snow. Screaming. The blur of someone small in my arms, warm one second, then cold. So cold.
It’s a memory, a nightmare. I blink, and I’m not here anymore. I’mthere. Back in time. Back when my entire world collapsed from underneath me.
The lullaby is louder now, coiling through my ears.
“Shhh…” I hear myself say. “Don’t cry, Gracie girl. You’re safe now.”
“Gracie? Who’s Gracie?” Ren sounds like she’s behind a wall of water.
“You’re safe,” I repeat, gently rocking something small and fragile in my arms.
A baby. A baby girl, no more than six months.
“Dax, stop. You’re scaring me.” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I jerk away, heart pounding. “Talk to me.”
“Get away from her!” The words tear out of me. “Don’t touch her!”
A woman’s scream rips through my skull and suddenly my arms are empty and covered in blood. The sharp metallic smell of it sears the inside of my nose. Blood paints the snow underneath me, and all I can feel is rage. Absolute sorrow and rage.
I slam my fist into the nearest tree. The bark splinters from the impact, and pain explodes across my knuckles. I don’t care. I need to kill him. I need to make the singing stop.
I punch again. And again. I can’t catch my breath. Blood blooms from my knuckles.
The world is red and white.
“Where are they?” I roar into the wind as my head pounds. The song is a blaze inside me, pumping through my veins. “I justhadher—Ihad—”
I’m thrown forward as someone tackles me hard. Face landing first in the snow, I twist, snarl, ready to tear them apart. My body tries to push into the shift, but there’s too much weight on my chest, and breathing hurts.
