More than enough that the reality of my missing mating bond sinks in.

The pain is finally gone and, in another world, at another time, I guess that would be a good thing. But right here, right now, in this time, at this place, I miss the feeling of it more than I can ever say.

I miss the searing heat of it.

I miss the violent cold of it.

I miss the overwhelming omnipotence of it as it fills up every nook and cranny of my heart and soul.

Because without it, without the agony and the ache, all that’s left is emptiness.

Yawning, gaping, everlasting emptiness.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never even had a clue I could feel like this. When my parents died, I was numb. I was angry. I was lost. I was sad.

But I was never empty. I was never destroyed.

Now I’m both, and I can’t even summon up the will to care.

Time is ticking away, seconds fading into minutes that I don’t have to spare.

I should be walking into the arena with Jaxon right now.

We should be taking our place on the field right now.

We should be fighting this atrocity, facing down Cyrus and the evil that’s taken over the Circle like a cancer, eating away at anything good that might have once been there.

Instead, I can’t even get off the ground.

I glance over at Jaxon, realize that he, too, is still on the ground. Unlike me, he’s not lying flat, though. He’s curled up in a ball, hands over his head like he’s desperate to ward off the next blow.

But there are no more blows coming, because there are no more blows to be dealt. Cole, in his infinite hatred, struck the death blow, and I didn’t even see it coming.

At least the worst is over. No matter what dungeon they throw me in, no matter what terrible things Cyrus has in store for me, at least none of them will ever feel like this.

At least I will never feel like this again.

I take a deep breath, then start to cough as I breathe snow into my nose and down my throat. I roll over out of the most basic form of self-preservation, then stay that way because there’s no reason not to.

Sunrise is coming, turning the edges of the sky a myriad of colors—at least for a minute or two. And then lightning crackles across the sky. Thunder booms, and the darkest clouds I’ve ever seen move across the sky straight toward us.

“Grace.” Jaxon calls my name in a voice made hoarse by too much pain, too much loss.

“Yeah.”

“You can’t go in there,” he rasps.

“What?”

“The arena. You can’t go in there without me.”

“I know.”

He rolls over to his side, reaches a hand out to me, and I think about taking it. I want to take it. But he’s too far away, and it doesn’t matter anyway. A touch of fingertips won’t bring back what we lost.

“I mean it, Grace. They’ll kill you if you go in there. Or worse, take you back to London and destroy you piece by piece.”

Silly boy, can’t he see that I’m already destroyed? Already broken into so many pieces that I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to try to put them back together again.

My parents are dead.

My memory is gone.

My mating bond is gone.

Why on earth would I go in there to fight?

I’ve got nothing left to fight for.

The clouds creep ever closer, blocking out the last remnants of light as sleet begins to fall, the rain and ice stinging my skin, leaching the last little bit of warmth from inside me.

A heavy lassitude overtakes me. It has my eyes closing and my mind wandering and my breathing slowing to almost nothing. There’s a voice deep in my head telling me that it’s okay, that I can just stay right here. That I can rock shut as a seashell and let the stone take me.

I don’t remember the last three months. Maybe if I stay stone long enough, I won’t remember any of this, either.

I take one last breath and then let go.

108

Pom-Poms and

Pompadours

“Grace! Grace! Can you hear me?

“Damn it, Grace, can. You. Hear. Me?

“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare do this again. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Get up! Damn it, Grace, I said get up!”

“Stop it.” I don’t even know who I’m talking to; I just know that there’s a voice in my head, and it won’t go away. It won’t let me be. All I want to do is sleep, and it just keeps talking and talking and talking.

“Oh my God, there you are! Grace, please. Please come back. Please don’t turn to stone.

“Grace? Grace? So help me God, Grace, if you don’t wake up right now, I’m going to—”

“What?” I demand, cranky and pissed off and more than ready to bite the head off whoever it is who keeps bugging the hell out of me.

“Get up! I mean it. You need to get off this snow. You need to get into that arena. Now!”

I creak one eye open and see him staring back down at me with those ridiculous blue eyes of his. “Ugh, Hudson. I should have known it was you. Go away.”

“I will not go away.” His voice is all British again, dripping with perfect syllables and indignation. “I’m saving you.”

“What if I don’t want to be saved?”

“Since when has what you wanted even been of paramount importance to me?” he demands.

“You make a good point.”

“I always make a good point,” he snaps. “You’re just usually too busy hating me to listen.”

“I’m still too busy hating you to listen.” But I push myself up into a sitting position.

“Good. Hate me all you want. But get your ass up and get into that arena before you forfeit everything.”

“I don’t have a mate anymore,” I tell him.

He blows out a long breath. “I know the bond with Jaxon broke.”

“If by broke you mean it was ripped apart by fucking Cole, then yes. It broke.”

He looks down at me for long seconds, then sighs and settles on the snow next to me in his black Armani trousers and dark-red dress shirt.

“Why do you look so good?” I demand, feeling exceptionally annoyed by his ridiculously pretty face.

“Excuse me?” He lifts a brow.

I hold my hands up. “It’s sleeting. Why aren’t you wet? Why do you look like you just walked off a runway?”

“Because I’m not currently rolling around in the snow feeling sorry for myself?” he asks.

“You’re a douche.” I make a face at him. “You know that, right?”

“It’s a gift.”

“More like a curse,” I tell him.

“All gifts are curses in one way or another, don’t you think? Otherwise, why would we be here?” he answers.

I turn my head so I can get a good look at his face as I try to figure out what he means. But after a solid sixty seconds of staring at him, I still don’t have a clue. I do, however, know that his blue eyes have a lot of green flecks in them.

“You’re looking at me strangely,” he says, tilting his head questioningly.

“I’m trying to figure out if you meant that existentially or if you meant it—”

“No, I didn’t mean it existentially!” he barks at me. “I meant, why else would we be sitting out here in the bloody snow when your arse should be in that arena right now?”

“I already told you, I. Don’t. Have. A. Mate.”

“Who. Cares.”

“What do you mean?” I demand. “I can’t compete without a mate.”

“Sure you can. There is no rule on the books that says you have to take your mate in there with you,” he tells me.

“Yeah, but I can’t hold the ball longer than thirty seconds, so what am I supposed to do if I don’t have someone else to throw it to?”

“You’re a smart girl,” he answers. “You’ll figure it out.”

“If that isn’t the most Hudson thing you’ve ever said, I don’t know what is.”

He sighs, then reaches over and straightens my jacket, flipping the collar over and smoothing out the sleeves. As he does, I keep waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just sits there waiting, like he expects me to say something.

Usually, I can wait him out, but I’m cold and wet and empty and a whole lot of other things I’m not sure how to identify right now, and I don’t want to play this game with him. Especially not when he’s looking at me with that ridiculous pretty face.

“What am I supposed to do?” I finally explode. “Just go in there and throw the ball until Cole eviscerates me?”

“You’re Grace Foster, the only gargoyle born in the last thousand years. I say, go in there and do whatever the fuck you want…as long as that includes kicking Cole’s skinny wolf ass all over that arena.”

“What should I do? Turn him to stone?” I ask sarcastically.

“Sure, why not?” he answers. “And then shatter him with a sledgehammer. I promise you the world will be better off.”

“I can’t do that.”

“That’s what I keep trying to tell you, Grace. You can do whatever you want to do. Who saved Jaxon from Lia? Who won the Ludares tournament for her team? Who figured out what was going on with the Unkillable Beast? Who channeled enough magic from the aurora borealis to light up New York and got all her friends home? That was you, Grace. That was all you.

“You don’t have to be a dragon. You don’t have to be a vampire. You sure as shit don’t have to be a werewolf. You just have to get off your arse, go into that arena, and be the gargoyle girl we all know and love.”

“But it’s hard.” I give myself permission to whine for one more second.

“Yeah,” he agrees as he stands back up. “It is. But life’s hard. So either get in there and do what you have to do or get the fuck off the ride.”

“I tried to do that, if you remember correctly.” I pull myself up to my feet. “You wouldn’t let me.”