The Countdown (The Taking #3)(60)

It was the light above us that made me pause. It flickered. Just like that, out of the blue it went on and off, then back on again.

Without realizing what I was doing, my hands flew to Simon’s forearms, which were sinewy. I felt stupid when I saw he was grinning down at me. “See? Together, we’re electric . . .”

I was about to tell him what an idiot he was for being so cheesy, but then the bulb above us exploded. Tiny shards of glass shattered down on us, landing in my hair and hitting my exposed skin.

Simon’s arm clamped around my shoulder as he dragged me out of the way. “What d’you think that was?” I asked as I reached up to brush fragments of glass out of my hair.

Forgetting his whole seduction act, Simon surveyed the hallway. The rest of the overhead lights flickered but stayed on. He shook his head.

As I followed his gaze I realized something was terribly wrong. We needed to get to the others.

But before I could warn him or take a single step, I was gripped by the sudden knock-me-to-my-knees kind of pain.

I knew what this was.

Simon was at my side, the concern thick in his voice. “Kyra. What is it? What’s wrong?”

I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t breathe. Each spasm was worse than the one before. It was the same pain that came at dawn, only stronger . . . more intense. And at entirely the wrong time. My body was trying to collapse in on itself, like a can being crushed from the inside out.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t talk. I couldn’t do anything except curl into a ball and wait for it to pass.

Just another two seconds, I told myself, and then two stretched into five . . . and then ten . . .

Sweat broke out over my forehead. It soaked my chest and my back. My skin itched, suddenly not fitting right, like it was being stretched too tight over my bones.

An unwelcome image of Adam flashed through my mind, and suddenly I wondered if his species ever shed their skin. Maybe that’s what was happening to me. I was shedding this Kyra-looking skin, and when I did, the real me—the M’alue me—would materialize at last.

If that were the case, what would this next version of Kyra look like? Would I be reptilian and scaly? Or maybe doughy and soft . . . a milky, marshmallowy version of myself?

Just when I thought I’d been stretched too thin . . . when I was wondering if maybe I was going to explode into a million grisly pieces, the whole thing just . . .

Ended.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over.

I waited several beats, several breaths, wondering if it would start again. But there was nothing. Not a single pinch or cramp, or tightening of my skin.

“You okay?” Simon hovered in front of me, anxiously rubbing his hands on his thighs. All traces of cockiness had vanished.

I sighed. It was nowhere near dawn. This . . . whatever I’d just gone through . . . it should never have happened. But it had, and it definitely meant something.

Getting to my feet, I took the hand Simon offered. “I . . . I guess so.”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, causing both Simon and me to look up.

That was how Tyler caught us.

His green eyes dropped to my hand and to Simon’s and he frowned uncertainly. Then his lip curled. And, after a heartbeat or two, his face just went . . . blank.

He cleared his throat. “I . . . ,” he started. “I thought you needed me. I thought you needed help.”

He’d sensed me, I realized. He not only knew where to find me, but somehow he’d known what I was going through and he’d come looking for me.

Before I could tell him he was right—that I did need him . . . or explain that this . . . what he’d seen between Simon and me wasn’t what he thought . . . or just to say I was glad he’d come, he was already walking away.





TYLER


“TYLER, WAIT. CAN YOU PLEASE JUST WAIT A SEC?” Kyra begged.

I didn’t want to be that jerk, the one who makes the girl beg. As if she hadn’t been through enough already, what with the kidnapping, and being tortured and all.

I’d finally gotten past it, that’s what I was on my way to tell her when I felt her . . .

. . . her need . . .

But then I found them together. Apparently I’d waited too long to get over myself. She’d already moved on.

It was just . . .

Whatever. I didn’t even know what it was; I just knew there was nothing Kyra could say right now.

She grabbed my arm, and maybe because even though I was pissed, I wasn’t a total ass, I stopped. I looked over her head when I told her, “Look, you don’t owe me any explanations. We were what we were. But that’s the past. I don’t blame you, it’s not like I remember any of it. I thought you were in trouble, end of story.”

For a second, I half expected her to maybe beg some more. To try to make me see her side of things. But Kyra wasn’t exactly like that.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when she called me out instead.

“Stop acting like a dick. Obviously you think you saw something you didn’t. It might’ve looked bad, but it didn’t mean anything.”

From behind her, I heard Simon clear his throat. He never could stand to be ignored. “You know I’m right here, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Simon,” she shot back at him, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to crack a smile. Then she turned on me. “For your information, I was in pain. I doubled over and Simon was just helping me up.” Her glare said it all: no way was she letting me off the hook. She crossed her arms to add: I’d jumped to conclusions. “You might not remember—about us. But so what? I do. I also remember that you kissed me when we were on the run.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “So don’t act like you don’t have some feelings for me, even if you can’t remember why.”