Page 138 of Echoes of the Banshee

The crowd goes wild. The noise is deafening, but I’m barely aware of it as I catch up to Dylan, slapping him on the back. I can hear the faint sound of a chant starting to build in the distance.

“BULL-DOZER! BULL-DOZER!”

The energy is contagious, spreading like wildfire as the chant grows louder, echoing through the stadium.

It’s Thea, no doubt. I see her, holding her sign facing the crowd.

I glance over at Dylan, who’s grinning like a madman, his face alight with the strength of the crowd’s response. The stands erupt into cheers minutes later when the referee calls the game. The atmosphere is electric, a pulse of frenzied emotion that ripples through the stadium. It feels like the entire arena is vibrating with excitement.

As soon as the game ends, I rip my shirt off, feeling the rush of adrenaline and pride coursing through me. I sprint toward the bleachers, my heart pounding with the need to see her.

There she is, standing at the front of the bleachers, her face beaming.

“Good game,” Mavrik says. His face alive in a way I’ve never noticed before. I reach up, pulling Thea down to the field, and without thinking, I pull her into a huge hug. The weight of everything: this moment, the game, the build-up crashes down on me, and I just want to hold her close. It feels right, almost like a victory that only she can share with me.

“You’re all sweaty, Zair!” she yells against my chest.

“Good,” I laugh, “This COC needs lubrication!”

She laughs, her voice light. “I might have to put that on my next sign!”

I finally release her from the hug, but she doesn’t step away. She looks up at me, her smile warm, and her eyes gleaming with something close to admiration. “You played well.”

“Thanks.” My heart is racing. I want to kiss you so bad right now. I told myself I’d wait for her to make the first move. But this: her smile, the way she looks at me, it’s so hard to resist.

Her breath hitches. Her eyes widen.

Shit.

Did I think that out loud? How much?

Panic seizes me. I open my mouth to backpedal, say something, but before I can, Benson and Dylan crash into her from both sides, yelling and cheering. Dylan lifts her over his shoulder, spinning her in wild circles. Her laughter rings out as he tosses her at Benson.

I just stand there, heart pounding, not sure if I ruined everything.

“You won!” Thea calls, bright and teasing, as they finally set her down. “Ugh—I’m covered in the sweat of three guys now!”

We all exchange a look. Laughter bubbles up between us, cutting through the tension still clinging to the edges.

“Oh, shut up.” With a quick motion, she snatches my shirt from my hand and wipes it across her face, her grin wide and infectious before tossing it back at me.

Thank god. For a second, I thought I’d blown it.

“Girls pay big money for my sweat,” Dylan says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“They wouldn’t if they knew how bad you smell.” Thea tries to wriggle free, but he doesn’t let her.

“I smell like roses!” Dylan declares.

That’s when it hits — the sharp, sweet scent of a curse. A glowing mark appears on Dylan’s forearm, and a wave of wet dog that rolled in manure.

“Oh, you’re so dead,” he growls.

Thea takes off running.

Benson and I share a look, then bolt after them, laughter spilling out of us as Thea ducks into the crowd. Around us, people wrinkle their noses and turn, trying to figure out what stinks so much.

My phone dings and I look down to see a message.