Page 135 of Echoes of the Banshee

Zair raises an eyebrow, calm and unbothered. “I have to be giving her orgasms to care?” He glances at me, the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Seems like you did neither.”

Ethan’s face twists, and he lashes out, magic snapping through the air like a whip.

A gust of wind surges from Zair with a flick of his hand, neutralizing the attack in a rush of air that ruffles the curtains behind him.

“You should walk away,” Zair says. His tone is smooth, polite even, but there’s steel in it. The kind that says ‘this is your only warning.’ Ethan stands frozen, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with that familiar mix of frustration and something darker. Desperation, maybe, or obsession.

“You’ll come crawling back,” he says, low and bitter. “You can lie to everyone else, but not to me. You’re mine.”

Zair waits until the sound of his footsteps fades before stepping inside. He doesn’t crowd me, his presence steady, grounding. He opens one arm just slightly. Not a demand, not a question. An unspoken offer.

If you need it.

I need it. I wrap my arms around him and let myself be comforted.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I mutter to Zair, but the gratitude in my tone betrays my words.

His arms around me tighten and the tension in my chest loosens a little. I feel… safe. Safe in a way I didn’t even realize I needed.

“Maybe not,” he says. “But we couldn’t have you turning him back into a rat, we’d never find him in that hole he crawled out of.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly before reluctantly breaking the hug.

“Want to head to the diner?”

I raise an eyebrow. “What about your party?”

“I came, I saw a grown man lose his pants and his pride,” he jokes. “Everything from here on out will be a letdown.”

I can’t help but laugh, the tension from the encounter with Ethan slowly fading.

“Lead the way,” I reply, smiling, feeling lighter than I have all night.

We step into the cool night air. The relief I’d been clinging to starts to unravel. The quiet doesn’t calm me, it only makes the tension inside louder. That pressure, that simmering, electric storm still coils in my chest, wound tight since Marco’s hands touched me. It’s all still there. Waiting to explode.

I stop walking.

Zair glances over his shoulder, his steps pausing. “You okay?”

I nod instinctively, then shake my head. “I don’t think I should be around people right now,” I say quietly. My voice sounds too even for how tightly I’m holding myself together. “My magic’s not… stable.”

He watches me for a second, really watches me, and then, without a ghost of judgment, nods.

“Pizza and a movie?” he offers.

The words catch me before I fall.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “That sounds perfect.”

We walk in silence, heading up the steps in his dorm when we pass some frat boys, one dressed as a police officer.

“Shit! We left Benson!”

“I already texted him, he’s on his way.” He smiles and opens the door to his dorm. As soon as we step inside, the atmosphere shifts. He tosses me a pair of sweats and a school T-shirt without making a thing of it, already pulling out his phone to order food. I murmur a quick thanks and slip into the bathroom.

The fluorescent light is too bright after everything. I splash cool water on my face, scrubbing away streaks of fake blood and smudged makeup. But it’s not enough. There’s makeup everywhere, layered thick from the costume.

“Zair, can I take a quick shower?” I call through the door.