Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(103)

“I need to call my dad,” Aelia says, resignation threading through her voice now.

“I can do it, Lia,” Faelan says gently.

She shakes her head. “No, I want to tell him.”

James stands and wanders over to the kitchen with Aelia, like he wants to stay close to her. He taps on his own phone, puts it to his ear, then reaches out and rubs her back. She leans into him a little. I look away, feeling like I’m intruding.

My eyes skip back to Niamh’s body.

Pain spikes my throat. I rise to my feet and head for the door, unable to look at the death anymore. I need air.

The sunlight hits me, but I still feel the image of her, of poor Niamh, sticking to my skin. Over and over, I see her crying bloody tears, saying she’s sorry.

My throat closes, and I gasp for breath. I have her blood on me. I need to get clean. I need to wash my mind of the vision of horror flashing in my head.

I stumble toward the pool and splash into the water, tears welling up. The water closes over my head, and I swim for the deep end, my belly scraping the bottom. I rub my hands on my face to get the blood off, and scream and scream and scream until I feel like I’ve pushed every ounce of shock and horror from my bones.

Until all that’s left behind is an empty vessel.

I don’t want to rise to the surface again. I want to stay here in the silent nothingness and not have to face this madness.

But in the end, when I can’t hold my breath anymore, I float up. I emerge and see Faelan standing in the water near the steps. He watches as I make my way toward him. His concern is obvious, the tension making his shoulders flex.

A new sort of madness fills me when my eyes meet his. I find myself propelled, needing to feel something else in my skin. Needing to feel anything but this darkness, this confusion.

He grips the edge of the pool as I come up to him, but he doesn’t move away.

So I reach out. I touch him, the water from my fingers dripping down his bare chest.

I can’t say out loud what I’m thinking, that I need him to touch me back, that I want him to kiss me again like he did that night by the fountain. This storm inside won’t let me speak. But it’s like he hears me, anyway. He moves to take hold of me, to pull me closer into a hug. His arms wrap around me, his hand gripping the back of my neck, his chin resting on the top of my head.

I press myself against his chest, feeling his warmth. I plead with this thing in me not to hurt him or take from him. Because I need this. I need to feel him.

After several heartbeats, he pulls back a little, tipping my chin so our eyes meet. His thumb slides back and forth over my jaw, his brow pinching like he’s in pain.

“Am I hurting you?” I whisper.

He shakes his head slowly, his hair falling in his eyes.

I reach out and brush at a dark strand, then trail my fingers to his jaw, his neck, and down across his clavicle, his skin soft against mine. I let myself look at him, soaking in his beauty. Wondering about the scar above his eye. Studying the perfect shape of his mouth. Then I rise up on my toes.

And touch my lips to his.

He breathes me in. His arms wrap tighter around me, strong and unyielding. I twist my fingers in his hair, falling into him until he’s leaning against the edge of the pool. Everything in me tingles and buzzes with his body so close, his hands sliding down my bare back, gripping my hips, pulling me closer. And the storm of confusion inside me calms, a new whirl of emotion rising as he presses into me, his breath becoming mine. I cling to him and kiss him and taste him, blocking out the whole world for as long as I can, getting lost in the urgency, in the frantic touch.

Memories mingle, twisting in my mind, the water growing cold, Faelan becoming the king, me becoming Lily, and then shifting back again. I’m surrounded by water, clutching at Faelan’s damp body, but then I’m surrounded by cold stone, wrapped in the king’s arms.

I’m desperate and hungry, and I don’t want to pull away anymore. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.

I’m so lost that the warmth growing in my skin doesn’t register. Even as the familiar smell of Faelan’s green energy fills my head, and the taste of mint trickles into my throat.

The buzz of it all trails around me, through me, the heat blossoming in my chest.

And I realize where I am, and that I’m feeding from him. The one Sage cares about. Faelan.

Panic falls over me in a rush.

I pull away, breathless. “Stop,” I hiss at myself.

I watch as steam rises from his arms, his face. A rush of relief fills me when I don’t see any burns.

“I think I was feeding,” I say, feeling ill.

He shakes his head. “I’m all right. The torque held most of it back.”

I move to the steps and slowly sit, cold fear creeping through me. “I hate this.” What’s happening to me? I was completely lost. I’m going crazy.

“It’s okay, Sage.” He sinks down to sit beside me.

I shake my head. No. No, it’s not.





FORTY-THREE

FAELAN

I can’t believe that I let it happen again. I kissed her, I touched her, I let myself want her more than I’ve wanted anything. And it’s no longer under my control. If it wasn’t for the torque, I probably would’ve let her consume me as she fed. That’s how far I’ve let myself fall.