To be honest, the kiss he had planted on me had made me feel some type of way. It had once again awoken the sexual need, the one that Drax had only momentarily quieted.
Xander had been gone for days, and I hated to admit it, but ever since he got back all I could think about was the way his body felt pressed against mine.
Focus, Scar.
"I'm coming with you." I got to my feet.
Xander cocked his head to the side and looked me up and down, presumably deciding if he wanted to take his spot back in the group as the one who argued the most with me, but if he was really in the running he would have to step his game up because Finn set a record with his attitude.
If Colt was there, he would have found it hilarious, the testosterone-riddled competition would have made him laugh. We probably would have poked fun at it together.
But Colt wasn't there, and somehow that made it significantly less amusing.
"Are you just going to gawk, or are we going to clear this building and lay my mom down? She needs rest." I shifted my gaze from Xander to her.
She sat in the front row seat with her head leaned against the window. From the back I couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed, but it didn't really matter either way. It wasn't like she was awake.
My heart hurt at the thought, but she was even more so not herself since the governors had handed her over. Before I didn't think it was possible for her to retreat inside of her head more, but I was wrong.
The hotel is huge. Plenty of space to get some time alone with her. Maybe if I can separate her from the group she'll come out of her shell. I reasoned.
Even more reason to help Xander clear the building.
Xander eventually nodded, accepting my help either out of pity for my mother, or out of admiration at how I could throw his stubbornness back into his face.
I pulled my rifle and held it tightly, but Draydon eyed me guiltily as I passed him.
I didn't need to read minds to tell what he was thinking.
He wanted me to remember the man that I'd almost killed.
What was his deal? Why did he give two shits if I killed? Even more, why did he care if someone from a world he wasn't even from died?
More and more questions about him stacked up inside my mind and I filed them away to investigate at a later date.
"Hey mom?" I stopped at the front row and brushed my hand across her shoulder.
She didn't look up, or grunt, or even acknowledge me with her eyes.
"I'm going to go help Xander out, but I'll be right back. Okay? I'm coming back for you." I didn't know if she heard me, and if she did, I didn't know if she understood. But what I did know was that I wasn't about to take a chance that she might think that I'd abandoned her. I wasn't going to let anything bad happen to her ever again. I'd made the mistake of not protecting her once.
I nodded to Max. I didn't have to say a word for him to know that she needed to be protected, and I knew the guys would keep watch.
I stepped off the bus into the blazing heat. I'd been spoiled by the air conditioner inside the bus, and I'd almost forgotten that deserts come with blazing heat. Somehow it made the situation even less bearable.
An entire country killing each other, a mysterious earth witch trying to kill me, a mute mother, a dead lover, and I have to deal with the fucking scorching heat?
Shitty deal, universe.
I held my gun close to my body, the eerie silence of the desert putting me on edge. Xander motioned quietly for me to follow him and I did closely.
The hotel was a fairly large one, especially for being in the middle of nowhere. I doubted that they got enough business to ever have a sustainable income, but what the hell did I know about business?
Despite being in the middle of the desert the building looked pretty well kept, and there were a few cars in the driveway that had only a thin layer of sand on them. I guessed if they'd been there longer than a day or two it would have been obvious by the layers of sand on top of them.
"What the hell is that smell?" I wrinkled my nose at the pungent smell that wafted its way into my nostrils in the hot breeze.
It was bad enough to make me gag, and I pulled my shirt up over my nose to block it out.
Xander turned and gave me a ridiculous look, but when the smell hit him a few seconds later his entire body heaved.
It wasn't long after that he pulled his shirt up too.
I raised a brow at him sarcastically.
"That's a body if I ever smelled one." He said somberly, his voice muffled by the fabric.
"How do you know?" The words fell out of my mouth before I even had time to think them through.
"Do you think the military is sunshine and roses? Because it's not." Xander snapped.
I ate my words and shuddered at the stupidity of my own question.
As soon as the words left his mouth he paused in deep thought.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He said, almost too quietly for me to hear.
I shrugged.
I'd assumed that he'd seen some sort of magical combat, after all that was the main purpose of the country's military, but how was I supposed to know how bad it was? Or that he'd know the smell of a rotting body from a mile away?
Xander moved on without another word, with the barrel of his gun first.
Again something stirred inside me, at the worst possible time. I couldn't help it, everything about him was practically irresistible in that moment. The look he had on his face when he was in his element, the gentle flex of the muscles in his arms when he stuck his weapon out, and the way his ass looked in his combat pants was the cherry on top of the testosterone cake that was Xander.
He was a badass, and I knew his parents would be proud at how well he carried himself.
I froze at the thought of his dads. They were hands down the coolest set of parents that I'd ever met and the most loving.
I couldn't help but wonder if they'd been part of the population that was affected by the spell.
My stomach churned at the thought of them killing each other, and the pain that would send spiraling through Xander.
Just another pair of names to add to the list of people's lives that I'd ruined by fucking up and letting the dagger fall in the wrong hands.
Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe the governors weren't the villains in this story— maybe I was.
We inched closer to the vehicle parked out front, suspiciously in front of the doors, blocking them.
I had no idea what went on there, but my gut told me that it was nothing good.
The smell only got worse the closer we got to the car; it was so strong that even the fabric of my t-shirt couldn't hold it back any longer.
My stomach wrenched and I bit back the instinct to heave because I didn't know how many times I could without throwing up. At least not eating for a few days made the odds of actually having anything to throw up a little less.
We reached the car and Xander wiped away a layer of dust that had coated the driver window and blocked the view inside.
Behind the glass lay a dead man, his head resting on the steering wheel. His body was bloated and his face distorted by the bloating and the crusted blood that ran down it.
That was it, the image of him was enough to throw my stomach over the edge.
I scurried to the side of the building and heaved, emptying my stomach of what little bile it had left. Even when my stomach was on empty, my body still convulsed.