Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 141

141 Ava: Determined to Find Her

141 Ava: Determined to Find Her

Lucas enters like a tornado, the doors slamming a gale–force breeze into my room.

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His hair is a mess, his amber eyes focused on me as he looks me over, categorizing every detail of my

appearance. O. e IV in my arm–again, the hospital gown, the bed. All of it.

I must pass muster, because about halfway through the room, his steps slow and his shoulders relax. “Ava.”

“Lucas.”

I hold my hands out when it’s clear he isn’t sure how to greet me, after our last parting.

He gives Selene a dark stare before sitting next to my legs and grabbing my hands, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. “Are you okay?”

It’s funny–aside from feeling upset with myself and worried over Lisa, I hadn’t processed any other

emotions about the invasion.

Now, with him here, tears fill my eyes and my

shoulders shake as I remember the fear. How I was

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141 Ava: Determined to Find Her

positive I’d die by vampire. How gutted I feel with Lisa

gone.

The death of Teddy.

Of Bren.

The entire experience of the party.

All of it.

Without any warning whatsoever, I burst into ugly tears, and Lucas gathers me close, holding me against his chest with soft murmurs and reassurances that I

don’t really hear.

Cry it out, Selene says in a gentle caress of my mind. I can feel her slipping away, probably to curl up on the couch now that Lucas is here.

I’m not entirely certain what makes me cry more. I’m not even sure if it’s just today, or if it’s all the years before today that’s bringing me to tears.

It’s everything and nothing in particular, every wound my soul has borne.

It’s agony and relief, endurance and exhaustion.

I cry.

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141 Ava: Determined to Find Her

And cry.

And cry. 

Through it all, Lucas rocks me against him, whispering soft nothings in my ear and running his hands over my hair, assuring me he’ll do everything in his power to

find Lisa.

ì.

He tells me i v sorry he is, how he should have kept me safer.

How it’s his fault for being gone, for allowing such a tragedy to happen.

None of this is his fault to bear.

Even so, he takes it on.

When I’m spent, my eyes are swollen and ache with every blink. My head pounds with the furious rhythm of dehydration. My throat is shredded from—and I cringe to remember this–my wails, as if I were a grief–stricken heroine on some sappy television drama

Selene likes to watch.

A nurse came in at some point and hooked up a bag of fluids at Lucas‘ quiet request.

“Are you better now?” Lucas asks after a long period of

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But you need to be ready, Selene interjects.

Nodding against his chest, I murmur, “I get it. Thank you.” I know, I tell Selene somberly.

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