Page 100 of The Fire Went Wild
I push him away, surprised by my own strength. He sits back on his heels, frowning as I push myself up against the headboard. God, everything between my legs aches. I don’t know if I can even walk.
“Charlotte, tell me what’s wrong.”
I rub my forehead. “Nothing’s wrong.” I peer up at him through the tangle of my hair. “I just—you remember how you said your dad killed you when you were younger?”
Jaxon’s frown deepened. “Yeah. My initiation. Was that what the Unnamed?—”
“I saw it.” I settle back against the headboard, and Jaxon stretches out beside me, his hand across my belly. “Or I think I did. You were in your kitchen, sitting in a dining room chair?—”
Jaxon laughs, which startles me. “Fuck, yeah, that’s how it happened.” He kisses my shoulder. “With a knife? Split open my throat?”
It’s weird, how casually he talks about this, but it’s something I find I’m getting used to.
“Why’d you call it an initiation?” I ask.
Jaxon shrugs. “Because that’s what it was. It’s a religious thing. Your first death is supposed to be at the hands of another Hunter to honor the gods.” He smiles at me. “But plenty of people don’t do it. Sawyer didn’t. You know who killed him for the first time?”
“Who?”
“Fucking cops.” Jaxon laughs and snuggles up to me. “That sheriff deputy who shot him fifteen years ago. He was so distracted by Edie that he didn’t hear him come in.”
“You’re kidding me.” I bury my nose in his hair, breathing in the scent of his sweat. It reminds me of the swamp but in the best possible way. All that life bursting out of the murk.
“Nope. Give him shit about it when we go back out there. He loves that.”
“Why do I think you’re lying?” I push up on my elbow to look down at him, and Jaxon just grins up at me.
“About him loving it? Absolutely. Not about Edie getting him killed, though.”
And then Jaxon drags me back down into the sheets, covering me in gentle, sloppy kisses, and I’m not thinking about death or dreams anymore.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JAXON
We leave Sawyer and Edie’s house the next afternoon, the two women laughing and hugging and promising to see each other again soon. It takes a good ten minutes to get Charlotte to the car, but I don’t mind. I like seeing her happy.
“You enjoy yourself last night?” Sawyer asks, amusement clear in his voice.
I hate that my face gets hot.
“Sorry about that,” I mutter. “She wanted?—”
“I don’t need to hear it.” He grins. “Edie warned me, at least. Also, I think that’s what they’re talking about right now.”
As if on cue, both Edie and Charlotte glance over at us, then dissolve into giggles.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, and then Sawyer laughs, too, and claps me on the back.
“You take care of her,” he says in a low voice. “Especially if she is one of us.”
“I’m planning on it.”
It takes another few minutes, but eventually, Charlotte and I are back in my car, heading west to Louisiana. Charlotte insistson driving, and I let her. I don’t need to sleep much, but I do need to sleep sometimes. And it’s been a while.
“You’re okay driving?” I ask as I stretch out on the backseat—again, at her insistence. The car winds through Pensacola. She has the windows cracked to let the sea breeze in.
“What, you worried I’m going to kidnap you?” She meets my gaze in the rearview mirror.