Page 28 of Incoronate
Both of their heads snapped to me.
“Hey.” Trace was beside me in an instant, his fingers brushing the matted hair away from my eyes as his gaze bounced around my face, mapping every feature as though he hadn’t seen me in years. “You’re back.”
The feel of his cool hands felt like a godsend against my heated skin.
“How are you feeling, angel?” Dominic came around the bed on the other side, his demeanor fully composed as it always was when things were at their worst. But his eyes gave him away. The worry sat in them unguarded despite everything he was doing to hide it.
“Like I’m on fire,” I croaked as I turned my face into Trace’s palm.
The sheets beneath me were soaked with sweat and sticking to my skin in places I didn’t have the freedom of movement or the energy to peel them off of.
“She’s still burning up,” whispered Trace to Dominic, but I heard him just fine.
That explained why I felt like I’d just taken a staycation in the infernos of Hell.
“How long was I out this time?” I asked, the question coming out more desperate than I intended. Every time I lost a stretch of hours I couldn’t account for, it felt like losing ground I’d never get back.
“You needn’t worry about that, angel,” said Dominic, the corner of his mouth crooking up just enough to qualify as reassurance.
Even though he hadn’t bothered to answer my question, I could tell by the look in his eyes that it had been longer than the first time. How long though, I had no idea, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know.
My skyrocketing temperature made everything feel sluggish, as though my thoughts were moving through syrup. I knew I should have been more concerned about the lost time, but the exhaustion was too consuming for me to care enough to push through it.
I forced a swallow and peered up at the cuffs around my wrists, still trying to piece together what happened after the voices took over. “How did I get back up here?”
“You don’t remember?” asked Trace carefully.
I frowned. “I remember Caleb talking to us in the living room. And then the voices coming back.” My fingers curled weakly against the chains. “They were telling me to go after the baby again, but it was so much more painful this time. Everything was stronger. Louder.”
Dominic’s brows perked up at my admission. “Anything after the voices?”
I shook my head. “Everything’s fuzzy after that.”
Trace and Dominic exchanged one of those loaded looks that carried an entire conversation in the span of a second. A conversation that I clearly wasn’t privy to.
“You were trying to leave again. Trying to—” Trace broke off, his jaw working as he stroked my cheek with his thumb. His blue eyes glimmered with strain as though it pained him to see me like this.
“Join the Horsemen,” I finished for him.
Even then, the pull was still there. It was quieter but still present like a persistent tug in my chest that wanted me moving. Wanted me hunting. And beneath it, I knew the whispers were still there too…muted but waiting.
“You fought us pretty hard,” said Trace, rubbing the back of his neck like the memory of it was still sitting in his muscles. “You just kept saying you had to go. That you were running out of time.”
A faint recollection broke through the gaze. The mounting pressure in my chest, the urgency clawing up my throat to tear free from their hold and join the Horsemen so that I could go after Nikki’s unborn baby.
The thought disgusted me and turned my stomach into knots.
“We had no choice but to restrain you. You were hurting yourself,” he went on, pained by the admission as though it had physically hurt him to do it.
I grimaced at his words. I didn’t remember that part. Frankly, I couldn’t recall anything after the voices had taken hold of me except the overwhelming need to obey them.
“It’s probably for the best that you don’t remember,” offered Dominic as he reached onto the end table and picked up a glass of water before bringing it to my lips. “Drink, angel.”
I held his gaze over the rim of the glass. “That bad?”
He didn’t answer. Which was answer enough. I craned my head just enough to take a small sip before pulling back.
“But you were able to stop me at least, right?” I said, telling myself that had to count for something. That it was progress. A data point. Evidence that this was still survivable and that we weren’t completely screwed. “I didn’t hurt anyone this time, right?”
