Savannah’s eyes flickered open. “My God, what did you just do?”
“I healed you.”
“Remind me to fall out of buildings more often.” She coughed, and as she
turned to look around, a little bit of blood trickled down her lips. “Did I get
Kahanov? With the basilisk?”
I could barely think. The drop of blood quivering at the edge of her ruby
lips mesmerized my mind. I wanted to lick it from them. To press my lips
against hers and kiss her with abandon. My head began to bend forward as
she turned her mouth toward mine.
Suddenly, she jerked out of my arms and scrambled down into the pool.
“Holy shit, my clothes are shredded!”
She was looking at me like I was a filthy predator. And maybe I was. I
scowled. “You’re a werewolf now. Get used to it. Also, don’t go adventuring
in any outfits you’re too attached to.”
I looked away.
“Jax. Kahanov. Did we get him?”
I cleared my throat and sat back. “The basilisk got the noctith. And the
noctith got the basilisk.”
“But not him.”
“No. He escaped.”
“Fuck.” Her head tilted back. “We were so damn close.”
“It was a good plan.”
She slammed her palm down on the edge of the pool. “I was so fucking
close.”
27
Savannah
Two hours later, I stepped up to the front door of Aunt Laurel’s house,
completely and utterly drained. I had the Soul Knife but couldn’t shake the
deep sense of failure. Kahanov had gotten away, and Amal was comatose,
trapped in her dreams like the other sleepers.