I give one final prayer to Gaia, my Goddess, begging her to forgive me for my failure, for my foolish choices. A cool, featherlight touch runs down my unmarked cheek, betraying her presence. Soaking up the love that I feel in that caress, I allow one single tear to fall from my eye at the thought that I won’t be alone in my death. That someone who loves me still lives.
Out of my peripheral, I see Anshar push himself from the ground shakily. He grabs onto the hilt of my blade and extracts the dagger embedded in his chin and throws it onto the ground. He’s already beginning to heal. Damnit.
Having no time to spare, I focus back on my core. I feel the wildness of my power and grab a hold of it in my mind’s eye. Sweat runs down my face as a tsunami of heat envelops me.
I cry out and tug at the chains I had placed on my soul to contain my power within me, until they begin breaking away, piece by piece.
Anshar smiles at me with bloodied teeth, as if he’s won, and utters words so low that they do not reach me. He cannot reach me in time and the smile dies as he comes to that realization.
Small grey cracks begin to run through my skin as my raw magic seeps through them. The teal orb shifts to a blinding, white light as my power consumes me and finally grows beyond my control. The blast that will destroy everything within a five-mile radius builds like a tornado and even Anshar knows he cannot stop it.
A tearing sensation ripples through my soul.
This is how it will end.
Anshar yells into the raging wind, his hands burning under the heat of my magic. "This is only the end of this life, mate!" He glares into my eyes, not letting his burning gaze fall until his body turns to ash from the blast of my power tearing him apart.
As everything around me lays destroyed, my power wanes, the orb of light disappears and I fall.
My skin brushes softly with the ground as the remnants of my magic abandon me with my last exhale of breath.
Closing my eyes for the final time, I let the darkness take me away, finally.
I’m coming, my loves.
Chapter One
Lana
“I don’t care! I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a penis in my eye.” I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow at the man who’s one of my best friends, daring him to challenge me.
Hale. Who I happen to have a gigantic fucking crush on.
He’s tall, dark and handsome personified. The cherry on top? He’s actually caring. Why can’t you just woman up and make a move already, Lana?
I take a peek through my long copper hair at the other four, delicious hunks sat around the dying embers of the bonfire. There's the answer. Not another vagina in sight. Well, except my own.
Ash, Zedd, Leo, and Luke are all sitting around the pit, illuminated by the soft embers floating from the fire, holding cheap beers as they gang up on me about how I want to celebrate our twenty-first birthday. Yes, ours.
“You're so full of shit, Lana,” Ash interjects. “No girl has ever meant it when she says, ‘I don’t care.’” I narrow my eyes at the sassy air quotes. He's the only one in this ragtag band of misfits who can match my level of sarcasm.
It makes me want to jump his bones, tug on his dark, curly locks and meet the challenge in his mesmerizing, emerald eyes.
Instead, I flick him the bird with a dismissive scoff. Mature, I know.
For our birthday this year, I just want to be one of the guys. It shouldn’t be that hard. I grew up with these boys for most of our lives. The only difference between me and them is the dangly bit between their legs, that I absolutely dream about all the time.
He props a dramatic finger on his stubbled chin, narrowing his eyes to slits as if in deep thought. “Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m positive that translates to”—his voice goes up multiple octaves to a female pitch—“‘I want you guys to figure it out for yourselves and surprise me because we’ve been best friends our entire lives and you should know what I want by now.’”
My mouth drops open. Good Goddess, I hope I don’t sound like that!
In previous years, that might have been an accurate statement because who doesn’t love being celebrated? But this year… My twenty-first birthday isn’t one I want to make a big deal out of. Besides, the world is busy falling apart before our eyes, so we have other shit to deal with.
While I emulate a fish gasping out of water, unsure what to say, Zedd takes pity on me. My sweet, sweet Zedd. Swoon. He draws me in with those big, hazel eyes with caramel flecks and slicked-over brown hair, short on the sides, long and styled at the top, looking at me like a lost puppy dog. I just want to squish him to me and love him forever.
“Look, Lana,” he says in his deep, soothing voice, “I think what we’re all trying to say is that we want to make this a memorable day for you. It feels like there’s a new natural disaster every day. We just want to give you one day to forget about our world literally crumbling down around us. Is that so bad?” He searches my face for a clue into my real feelings, hoping I give him a glimpse.
Tough luck, buttercup.
I’ve been working on my mask for practically my entire life, locking those irritating things called emotions away. I’m not failing now, though it was a good effort on his part. A+ for the puppy dog eyes, Zedd.
They can’t see my heart melting into a puddle in my chest cavity at their thoughtfulness or the circus performing flips in my stomach if I don’t let them.
Huffing out a breath, I throw my hands in the air. “Guys, seriously? It’s just me—Lana. Your best friend for the past how many years? Too many to count. You should know better. You know I don’t like being the center of attention all the time. Besides, it shouldn’t just be about me!” The thought of it actually makes me want to gag, almost as much as the beer we’re drinking does.
Though the sentiment of them wanting to make me feel special isn’t lost on me, I don’t need it. I’ve gotten used to blending in as one of the guys because it lets me keep all of them by my side. I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Lana, every year, you want to celebrate,” Leo says, bumping my left shoulder. His smoky scent permeates my senses and I resist the urge to take in the scent of home.
They all smell like home to me.
Luke continues, bumping my other shoulder, “So why do you think we’ll believe you this year?” His saltwater scent is the complete opposite of his brother’s but no less comforting. How these men manage to smell so good all the time is beyond me.
I don’t take the blessing of sitting between two dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, identical twins lightly. The only difference between the two being Leo’s slight wave to Luke’s pin straight hair.
These two are the exact vision of what I think an angel would look like on earth. Jackpot.
“Thanks for the concern, boys, but I’d appreciate you believing me when I say I don’t want that this year. Plus, it isn’t just my birthday. It’s ours. How many times do I have to point that out?” I ask in an exasperated tone.
Of course, we don’t actually share a birthday.
When I first met the guys, we were kids at Beth’s home, our foster home. It was where our family first began after she took us from the shit foster system she happened to work for. Just before she took us in, the boys’ files had burned in an office fire at the Department of Child and Family. All the details of their birth families, their birth dates, everything—gone.