Sasha shook her head as she handed the empty cup back to him, but she truly had nothing to say. Part of her wanted to scream, No, I need the dragons! While the other part of her wanted to get as far away from them as possible.
As her mother turned back to Sasha, Dave retreated to speak with his partner. Jenna once more placed a hand on Sasha’s forehead, but it didn’t feel as soothing and comforting as a mother’s hand should. It felt as if daggers and writhing shadows were ready to tear her apart, wrenching deep sobs out of Sasha’s chest.
“It’s okay, darling,” Jenna murmured with false sympathy. “We had a plan for this all along. This has gone far better than I expected.”
Sasha stared at her mother in disbelief as understanding blossomed within her. She was beginning to understand just how far her mother would go for fame and to push her own agenda.
“Mom, I’m really sick.”
“I know. Isn’t it wonderful! I want to get some more shots of you in the van, just like this. You’re so pale and your eyes look bruised.” She drew one of her sharp-fingered hands across Sasha’s brow. “It’s perfect.”
“I feel like I’m dying, mom,” Sasha tried to explain again.
“Stop it,” Jenna snapped. “I’m not having any of your melodramatics. This is exactly what we need to prove that this is all brainwashing. If women were willing, why would they need to poison you? We have the story, Sasha. That’s all that matters. You can just hang on while we get the footage we need. I’ll have the best doctors on hand as soon as we tape your interview. Then I’ll let them help you.”
“Mother,” the word came from deep within her throat. There was no question she could ask, no plea she could make that would change her mother’s actions. Sasha truly understood the realities of their relationship for the first time, and now she was too weak to fight her circumstances.
“Hmmm?” Her mother raised a single brow, barely paying any attention to her daughter.
Sasha began to shiver once again and pulled the blanket around her even tighter. “I’m getting cold again, Mother.”
Jenna looked up from a small stack of books she had pulled from a chest and spoke to the van’s driver. “Turn on the heater or something, James.” She growled. “I can’t take it when she whines.”
Sasha would have cried if she’d had the strength. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself as warm air began to leak from the vents, but she knew it wasn’t going to do much good. The cold was inside her, an aching longing that couldn’t be cured by blankets or hot air.
The Knowing.
Shaa kouvi.
“What did you just say?” Her mother gave her a sharp look and Sasha shook her head. “I’m writing out the interview questions now,” her mother spoke eagerly. “I really regret we can’t have a proper presenter for this—like Stacy Mae from MTV or something. We’ll have to make do with me, I guess. I can’t convince any of the popular hosts to come out and cover this.”
Because it’s fucking bogus! Sasha screamed in her mind.
Sasha had seen enough to know that the Preor warriors weren’t rapists or anything like her mother accused. They had been respectful of the women, almost hesitant to introduce themselves when faced with the group of ladies.
The Knowing sickness continued to assault her, frightening her deeply. She knew exactly what plagued her as her mind opened to centuries of Preor knowledge. The problem was, none of it convinced her she had any free will. It really did feel like being brainwashed—or like having her entire body hijacked by hormones.
It was as if seeing Whelon had caused a cascade of chemical reactions inside her. They had not even gotten to touch each other before they were torn apart, and she desperately wanted him… Yet she was terribly afraid of her own desires as well.
I feel like I have no choice, she thought desperately. I feel like my mind is not my own!
Those thoughts brought the horrible dread of realization that she had never had her own life. She had always been a toy, a doll, to her only parent. In the past she had brushed off her worries and told herself that her mother only had her best interests at heart, but now, Sasha saw the truth. It was there in her mother’s features as she gave her full attention to organizing the film she wanted instead of to her ailing daughter.
If I have to choose between two masters, I choose Whelon! she thought, rebelliously.
When she had been close to the Preor warrior, she had felt an intimacy she couldn’t have ever imagined. Not just the Knowing, and not just that they were made for each other. He appreciated her. He could see her, the Knowing making sure he knew her as deeply as she knew herself—perhaps even more so.
Another fit of shaking overtook her and Sasha’s stomach lurched, threatening to climb up her throat. She moaned softly, hoping against hope that her mother might change her mind and take her to a hospital.
Except, when Jenna looked up and saw her daughter’s drawn, anguished face, she smiled. “Let me get a good shot of that. You look even sicker now than you did before!”
Chapter Eight
Whelon had barely touched down for five seconds, not even long enough to settle on two legs, before the dragon within roared free once more. The others did not have time to react as his wings grew and his talons sank into sun-warmed sand. Fire billowed around him as he took off, and the others had to focus on getting out of his way rather than stopping his progress.
The surging of the Knowing sickness and the weakness had driven his dragon straight into a panic. Irrational. Furious. Desperate. In many ways his mind was not his own, his body pushed
