Page 49 of Star Claimed Omega
A haze clung to her vision.
A man stood over her, tall and cloaked, his silhouette outlined in the steam rising from the vents and shadows.
His face came into focus.
‘The XO?’ she whispered, disbelieving. ‘Nada, can’t be. Must be some delusion-level shit.’
He didn’t respond; his jaw clenched, his hands flexing as he crouched beside her. ‘Woman, you’re out of your mind to think I wouldn’t.’
She reached a hand and touched the warm, sinewed flesh of his sigil-covered forearm and jolted, accepting that it was him.
She also recognized his scent, the same one she breathed in every time she touched his clothes before she placed them in the washer.
It was a fragrance that never left her mind since she met him, so much so that she researched his cologne one night.
Agar oud, rosewood, cardamom, vetiver, vanilla, and his skin musk.
Tantalizing.
With his help, Soleil struggled to a sitting position, still unsteady, her pulse echoing in her ears like a warning drum.
The alley spun, the aftermath of adrenaline colliding with her fever and fatigue.
Her limbs felt disconnected and heavy, as if gravity thickened.
‘Soleil?’ Santi’s timbre cut through the haze. ‘Are you alright?’
She opened her mouth, but her response never came.
A piercing whiteness swallowed her vision, and with it, the world tipped as her spine buckled.
She caught the alarm flaring in his eyes and wondered what was causing him such panic.
Strong arms seized her before the ground could. He moved faster than she could have imagined, his hands sliding beneath her to cushion her head.
With great care, he laid her down on the damp, broken concrete, cradling her head in his lap.
‘Hey,’ he said, brushing the wet strands of hair from her face. ‘Don’t check out on me, babe. Stay with me.’
She scarcely heard him; his rasp was the only tether keeping her from sinking completely.
‘What day is it?’ he rasped. ‘Talk to me, Soleil. What day is it?’
She blinked, her mouth dry. ‘Uh, Tuesday?’
He huffed a breath of relief. ‘Good. That’s good. Now, who’s the captain ofThe Sombra?’
She frowned, the answer slow to rise. ‘Xander Roman thinks he’s running the show, but the true power on the throne is the synth creature, Miral.’
‘Damn right she’s the boss.’ His tone softened. ‘Sawa, you’re with me.’
Her breathing began to steady, though her body still trembled.
The white haze receded, like fog rolling back to sea.
‘You scared the hell outta me, beautiful,’ he murmured, still crouched beside her. Then, without missing a beat: ‘Alright, next question. What’s my name?’
‘Santiago,’ she croaked, mouth twitching.
