I’ve seen groundlings blow air into each other’s mouths, trying to jump-start the lungs. But I can’t risk forming a bond to Vane. And that might not even work. His lungs aren’t the problem. It’s his mind whisking away, following the alluring call of the winds. Wandering too far from his rightful place.
The blue spreads from his lips, painting his face with a gray pallor.
I grab his shoulders and shake as hard as I can. His head lolls and falls limp.
I can’t just sit here and watch him suffocate. Even if his lungs aren’t the problem—putting air into his body has to help.
I refuse to let myself think about what I’m doing as I lift his chin with shaky hands.
“It’s not a kiss,” I whisper, saying it out loud to stand as testimony. “This is a lifesaving measure. Not a kiss. No bond will form.”
No bond. No bond. No bond.
I will not bond myself to Vane Weston.
No. Bond.
I take a trembling breath—barely able to believe what I’m about to do as I place one hand on each of his cheeks.
“Vane!” I yell. “Vane, wake up.”
Nothing.
Tears burn my eyes as I stare at his blue-gray lips.
Now or never, Audra.
I lean closer, whispering in his ear. “Please don’t leave me, Vane.”
I didn’t plan to say that—but I don’t have time to analyze my word choice. I suck in a huge gulp of air, holding it in my lungs as I part his lips with trembling hands and lean in.
No-bond-no-bond-no-bond-no-bond.
Before I make contact, Vane’s body thrashes with a hacking cough. His forehead crashes against my chin, knocking me backward as he rolls to his side, gasping for breath.
I rub my smarting jaw with one hand and wrap my other arm around myself, trying to calm my shaking. I can’t make sense of any of the emotions washing over me. All I know is: Vane’s alive.
He wheezes and struggles for a minute before he catches his breath. I sit to the side, feeling too much like I’ve had the world yanked out from under me then shoved back into place to do anything except watch.
I want to tell him how much he scared me. How close he came to leaving me behind—to leaving everyone and everything behind.
How much I’d been ready to risk to save him.
But he doesn’t need to know any of that.
When his color returns and his coughing calms, he sits up, smooths his hair, and meets my eyes. “Told you I’d come back for you.”
CHAPTER 23
VANE
My legs move like two soggy noodles as Audra drags me through the grove toward my house. I’ve been tired before. Been beaten up before. Shoot, I survived a tornado—and even though I don’t remember what happened, I remember every ache and pain in the days that followed. But I’ve never experienced anything like this.
I feel empty. Like everything that makes me me oozed out my ears, leaving just a shell of Vane.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the pull of the Southerlies. It felt like I was a kid again and my mom was promising everything would be all right if I just did what she said. Her voice sounded different, higher and softer than usual, but the words still coiled around my mind and heart—and the more I tried to shove them away, the harder they latched on.
I was a goner.
Until Audra’s desperate voice whispered through the wind, begging me not to leave.
I wouldn’t leave her.
In that determination, I found the strength to break free, my head spinning and my body screaming with a thousand different pains as I forced myself back to reality.
But I swear the wind took part of me with it. It definitely stole my warmth. I can’t stop shivering—even though I’m sure it has to be at least a hundred degrees. The noodle legs aren’t cool either. And my head feels like the soccer team used it for practice.
The worst part is the hollowness. I know what Audra meant by “caught between two worlds” now. The wind made parts of me feel freer, fuller, happier than I’ve ever been. Without them I feel lost and empty. I’m glad to be back, though. The sky may call to me, but I want my feet firmly on the ground. Preferably without the Jell-O legs.
Speaking of which—how am I going to explain my current condition to my parents? Knowing my mom, she’ll probably worry I’m drunk or high or both. She watches too many news reports on troubled teens.
And it looks like they’ll get to meet Audra, because unless I slither into the house, there’s no way I’m walking in there on my own. Audra’s basically carrying all my weight right now—which is pretty impressive, considering how slender she is.
The sun-bleached walls of my house come into view, and my stomach tightens. Audra tenses too, so I have a feeling she’s thinking the same thing I am: What the hell are we going to do now?
She slows to a stop at the edge of the tree line. “I need you to lean on a palm for a second,” she says, already wrapping my arm around a rough trunk. I shift my weight, leaning at an awkward angle, but I manage to stay upright as Audra starts unbuttoning her jacket.