Emerge: The Captive: (Book 3)(12)

“What are you reading?” Quinn asked, gesturing at the pile of books beside her.

“I’m catching up on my list of one hundred books to read in a lifetime. I’m almost done.” She handed him Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, knowing it would be the one he’d choose anyway. “I’m on Anthem right now. Seriously, Why are you so … bummed?” Eva set her book aside and gave him the kind of look that seemed to see right through him. “You’re all tense and … sweaty.”

“I’m not, you little pest. Just read your book.” He gave her a playful swat and leaned against the huge tree trunk. She was right—he was tense. He was still adjusting to all of the new sensations after his recent Awakening. He could feel his power swirling inside of him, like an icy storm filling his chest, eager to burst forth at any moment. The temptation to reach for it was already there, but it wasn’t something he was capable of so soon. It took most Immortals weeks of practice before they could truly touch their power for the first time. He had nothing to worry about. He was just being overly cautious.

It wouldn’t kill you to relax. Give yourself a break from all that self-control. It’s not like you’re actually going to touch your power or use a gift you don’t even have yet. The voice was his—an echo of the thoughts whirling through his mind. It’s not a good idea, Quinn.

You can feel it right there at your fingertips, man. It’s so close and you’re just going to sit there and read a book? The temptation was getting harder and harder to resist. His hands trembled and a bead of sweat rolled down his back. I shouldn’t have come here. He ran a hand over his short-cropped hair, gazing down at Eva by his side. She was lost in her book already. He’d never known anyone who could fall into another world so quickly.

Go on. Touch her. The wayward thought sent him reaching for her hand without a moment’s hesitation. It was like watching himself from far away and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His power filled him, urging him on like a siren’s call.

Quinn, don’t do it. Get a grip, man.

It’s not going to hurt to just see what we can do. For once no one is watching and we can do what we want. He was losing it. The thoughts filled his mind like so many voices—like they weren’t even his.

Control slipped away. The power raging inside him was intoxicating. He wanted more. Needed more. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Quinn spiraled out of control as he pulled on his power, taking in more than he could possibly understand how to handle, but he didn’t care—it felt so incredible, like he’d never known what it felt like to be alive before this moment. He forgot about the book in his hand, about Eva, about everything, and let himself revel in the sensation of touching his power for the first time. He was so powerful, it was frightening. Nothing like Aidan would be, of course, but for just a moment, Quinn had an inkling of what it was like to be Aidan.

“Quinn?”

Eva’s strangled voice pulled him back and he realized what he was doing.

“P-panic attack.” She sat beside him, her hand in his, with a look of terror on her face. She couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t let go. His power was feeding off her fear. He’d never tasted anything so sweet.

No.

Yes, this is what we want!

No. Quinn battled against this new, darker side of himself, this monster that wanted Eva’s sanity. Craved it like a drug. He would drive her mad if he didn’t stop now.

You’re not taking this from us! The insanity of his gift hissed in his mind.

With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he dropped her hand, forcing his power back into his core where he held it in a vise grip.

Eva coughed, wiping tears from her eyes. He stared at her in horror, uncertain of what he’d actually done. Her eyes were glazed, pupils dilated. She trembled beside him, but he couldn’t risk touching her.

“Eva?”

She took a deep breath and clutched the blanket beneath her. “I-I’m fine. I think.” Her voice sounded so meek. She gazed down at her hands in her lap, her shoulders hunched like she was trying to sink into herself.

Quinn stared at her but she was as still as a statue. He reached for her when she started rocking back and forth, shaking her head. “Eva, please, what’s wrong. Talk to me.” She hadn’t had a panic attack in years.

She snatched her hand away, muttering as she rocked.

“Eva? Talk to me, please?”

“It’s always been so mild,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“The panic attacks. My shyness with strangers. I have … issues, Quinn. It’s never been this bad.”

Eva was always shy, keeping to herself and those she was most comfortable with. When they were kids, she’d needed speech therapy, but lots of kids needed that. But he’d never suspected she struggled with mental illness.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She shrugged and rocked, refusing to look him in the eye. She didn’t like to make eye contact. But Quinn was beginning to wonder if what he’d presumed as shyness was a sign of a much more serious condition. If that was the case, then what the hell had he just done to her? Had he made it worse? Was that even possible?

“Please leave,” she said abruptly in a detached voice that didn’t even sound like her.