his skin felt. Except for the scars. They weren’t soft and spongy like normal scars. These were hard, rigid. I suddenly didn’t like touching them. An icy sensation flowed into my fingertips when I did, like hundreds of tiny icicles pricking my skin. I hadn’t noticed that before either. The feeling made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
So I ran my fingers over his lips instead, which felt much better because they reminded me of Dorian’s cheeks when he was a baby—smooth and supple, inviting me for a kiss. Tristan cupped his hand around my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. My skin warmed even more and tingled, the feeling spreading throughout my face, up into my scalp and down through my neck. Goose bumps rose and I shivered.
“Are you cold again?” he asked, his brows furrowing with concern.
“No, not at all. Just…tingly.” I shivered again.
He smiled with understanding. “Hmm…I wish we had more time, too.”
He winked and I fell back against the arm of the couch, my insides softening so I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. He leaned over and kissed me again, his hand trailing lightly down my neck and shoulder and arm, electricity spreading in a web across my skin.
I instantly felt overheated. My blood simmered. I had to push him back.
“Okay, maybe not. That’s too much,” I breathed.
I fanned myself with my hand. He blew lightly on my face, his cool, tangy-sweet breath filling my nostrils and into my mouth, overwhelming me. My heart started racing and I thought my temperature shot up three degrees. My blood no longer simmered—it boiled. My skin crawled from my scalp to the tips of my fingers and toes. I jumped off the couch, panting.
“It’s too much! I can’t take it!”
I grabbed the glass of ice water and drained it. The liquid felt like hot tea by the time it hit my stomach. I went into the kitchen, filled the glass again and chugged it. I splashed cool water on my face and neck and then leaned over the sink, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths. None of it helped. My heart continued to race and my skin prickled and burned.
“Son of a witch, I feel like I could jump out of my skin,” I panted. Tristan came into the kitchen and my skin tingled and crawled with just the anticipation of his touch. I held my hand up when he came within three feet. “I think you’ll send me into cardiac arrest if you come any closer.”
“Alexis…are you okay? You’re so pale.” He still whispered but it sounded so loud.
I turned to look at him. Not a light shone in the house but I had to squint because the room looked so bright. All of my senses seemed to be crashing with overload.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
Then several things happened simultaneously. The front door flew open with what sounded like an explosion. Owen, Mom, Rina and another woman appeared in the kitchen doorway. The air swooshed over me like a raging wind. I dropped the glass I held and it shattered shrilly on the floor. The sound pierced my ear drums. My heart contracted painfully and burned white-hot. No, not my heart burning. Above it. The skin of the Amadis mark scorched, like it had been pressed with the mean end of a branding iron. Pain ripped through my chest. I screamed in agony and my fingernails clawed into my breasts.
Tristan’s eyes burst into flames. He growled—a terrifying, heart-stopping resonance—and crouched as if preparing to lunge.
And Owen flew across the kitchen.
“Tristan! NO!” he roared.
Chapter 19
“Julia, go!” Rina ordered and the strange woman disappeared.
My vision grayed out as I collapsed to the floor.
The next thing I knew, Mom and Rina carried me into the back bedroom, to the only surviving bed. Their hands felt like iced braces as they held me tightly because I writhed uncontrollably. They lay me on the bed and my back arched against the hard, scraping sensation of the sheets and my clothes.
“Mom, what’s happening?” I screamed, the sound deafening to my own ears.
“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” she soothed.
Rina placed her hands on me, one on the burning Amadis mark and one on my forehead, and closed her eyes. I felt her energy flow into me and it calmed my nerves enough so I could lie still on the bed. The Amadis mark still felt white-hot, blistering and sending throbbing heat throughout my body. Mom took my hand and I gripped hers tightly.
“It’s happening so fast,” Mom said to Rina, unusual concern filling her voice.
“She can handle it.” Rina remained calm as she kept her hands on me. “We just need to keep her temperature moderated. We need some ice.”
Mom pulled away from me.
“Don’t leave me!” I cried.
“I’ll be right back, honey.”
She returned in a second with towels, ice and water. She slipped an ice cube into my mouth and rubbed water on my face with her hand. The cold on my skin and in my mouth contrasted sharply with the heat in the rest of my body, making me shudder. She placed a cool, wet towel over my forehead and eyes. It was comforting.
I slipped in and out of consciousness. Every time I blacked out, the ice-man’s face watched me again, and every time I came to, Mom and Rina sat right by my side, their hands directly on my skin. I felt new energy flowing through every cell of my body, twisting and turning and swirling through my veins and nerves.
“Something’s terribly wrong,” Mom said to Rina one time when I came to. She sounded anxious, but relatively calm considering the statement. She looked at me, saw my eyes open and didn’t say anything more. I blacked out again.
“Where’s Tristan?” I asked another time.
“He’s with Owen, honey,” Mom said.
“Why isn’t he here? I need him.” I blacked out again before hearing her answer.
“Mom?”
“I’m here, honey,” she answered.
“Tristan?”
“He can’t be here,” she said. “I’m sorry, honey.”
I struggled against something holding me to the bed. I couldn’t feel any straps or bindings, but I couldn’t move either. I thought maybe the dead weight of my own body held me down.
“Did he leave again?” I asked.
She didn’t answer me for a long moment. “No, honey, not exactly.”
What does that mean? I didn’t have a chance to ask, though. I slipped out of consciousness again.
“I think I’ve got him contained for now, but I don’t know how long it’ll hold,” Owen said from the doorway another time.
“Who? What’s going on?” I asked. Panic rose in my mind. I heard the bedroom door close.
Mom’s face moved over me. “Shh. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“How are you feeling, Alexis?” Rina asked.
“I don’t know. Scared.” I tried to take an assessment, but I couldn’t feel much. Every part of me just felt heavy and deadened, like my body had died but forgot to tell my brain. “Kind of numb, actually.”
“Do you feel hot or cold?”
“No, nothing. Nothing at all. Am I okay? I feel almost dead.”
I could hear and talk and see, and I could sense something was wrong. It seemed as though I had no sense of touch anymore, no feeling. I consciously focused on trying to lift my hand but if it even twitched, I felt nothing. Am I paralyzed? I wondered if and how such a thing could have happened.
“I think your body is just resting, preparing for the next wave,” Rina said.
