Audra eyes the food with a mix of hunger and intimidation.
“Eat as little as you want.” I hand her a cheeseburger and sprinkle salt on her fries. “But you won’t be able to stop once you taste it.”
She holds the burger like it’s a foreign object, like she’s afraid to touch the bun beyond the paper wrapping.
I can’t help laughing. “You’re overthinking it. Just dive in.”
She watches me take a huge bite—which is beyond amazing, by the way. In-N-Out has perfected the cheeseburger—but still she hesitates.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You already ate the fry, remember? Might as well go for it now.”
She looks like she might put the whole thing down and walk away. Then her eyes narrow and her back straightens and she dives in, her lips stretching thin so she can take the biggest bite possible.
“Oh. My. Goodness,” she mumbles through her mouthful.
Sauce runs down one side of her chin and a tiny piece of grilled onion sticks to her lip, but she’s never looked sexier. I want to jump across the table and kiss her face clean.
“Life-changing, right?”
She can only nod—her mouth already full with her next bite.
Within ten minutes she’s devoured the entire burger and most of her fries. She leans back in her chair, clutching her stomach.
“You okay?” I hope I haven’t just given her the mother of all stomachaches.
Audra nods. “I forgot what it feels like to be full.” She shifts her weight, stretching out her legs. “I feel so warm.”
“I still can’t believe how long you deprived yourself.”
“Ten years.” Her smile fades. “I’ll probably regret this later.”
“Only if you let yourself.”
She stares at the table, playing with part of a French fry left behind. “My father died because he ate—did I ever tell you that?”
“No.” She’s never told me anything about what happened to her father. Other than the fact that he sacrificed himself to save me.
Her fingers rip the fry into tiny crumbs. “My parents gave up eating when they started guarding your family, needing to be as strong as possible. They still fed me—I was too young to deprive myself that way—but they never touched the food themselves. My mother complained constantly about the hunger pains. The Gales had never required that kind of sacrifice from her before. They never required anything from her. She had the golden gift, and they were so grateful to have her on their side, they treated her like a queen.”
Her eyes glaze over, lost in the memories.
“Then one day, my dad and I came home from training in the meadow and my mother was eating a dark purple plum she’d picked off the tree in our new front yard—our third house in as many months. My dad panicked, but she just took another bite, letting the juices stream down her chin. Then she offered it to him. He started to shake his head, but she told him the Stormers would never find us. That her gift would always allow her to feel them coming and we’d run. Then she told him, ‘We have to live for ourselves, too.’ He looked at me—almost like he wanted to say something, but I still don’t know what it was—and then he took a giant, juicy bite. We spent the rest of the night feasting on plums.”
A tear slides down her cheek and she wipes it away. When she speaks again, her voice is barely a whisper.
“A couple weeks later the Stormer found us. I don’t know if my dad could’ve beaten the Stormer just by shifting to his wind form during the fight. But he didn’t have the option. He was tied to the earth. All he could do was sacrifice himself. So that’s what he did.”
I take her hands and for a minute we just cling to each other in the crowded restaurant.
But there’s something I need to say. I clear my throat. “I’m the one who gave you the water and weakened you. And I’m not going to teach Raiden what he wants—I can’t, even if I wanted to. I haven’t had the breakthrough. So just . . . let the Stormers take me, if it comes to that, and get the rest of the Gale Force and come rescue me.”
The warm color that’s filled her cheeks since her burger binge fades. “Do you have any idea what he’ll do to you if he gets his hands on you?”
“No, and I’m trying not to think about it.”
“He’ll torture you, Vane.” Her voice is too loud, and a couple heads turn our way.
I grab our trash and head toward the door. Neither of us speaks until we’re safely in my car. I turn the key and crank up the AC. But we stay parked.
“He’ll torture you,” she repeats.
“I’m sure he will.”
“I don’t think you have any idea what that means.” She shudders. “The things he’s done are unspeakable. Pain and torment you can’t even begin to imagine.”
I have to remind myself to keep breathing. “I’d still rather live through that than watch you die. I—I can’t imagine trying to live without you, Audra.”