Page 7 of Incoronate
A chill slid through me at the words.
I’d been so focused on the idea of losing control of my feelings and my choices that I hadn’t let myself think about that part. About what might happen if the voices returned while I was alone. If they commanded me to do something and there was no one there to stop me. No one to bring me back from the brink.
For a split second, I imagined it. Waking up with my head full again. That blinding pressure behind my eyes. Theunrelenting pull in my chest, steering me toward something I didn’t want to have any part of.
My fingers curled tighter around my waist.
They must have seen the slip in my expression, the determination on my face giving way to uncertainty, because Dominic was suddenly there, his body a breath away from mine, the scent of warm, decadent chocolate and expensive leather flooding my senses.
“We will not be leaving this room under any circumstances,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “However, if you require the bed to yourself for tonight...” His jaw flexed once. “I’ll make do with the chair.”
“And I’ll take the floor,” added Trace, though everything about his posture said he hated the idea of sleeping away from me. “But we’re not leaving you alone tonight, Jem. That’s not negotiable.”
I wanted to argue that their proximity would make it impossible for me to think clearly, that I’d never be able to sort through the mess in my head with them lying right within reach, breathing the same air as me, wearing me down with every word and every look. But the fear was already wrapping around my ribs like a snare, squeezing harder with every breath I took.
What if the voicesdidcome back? What if I woke up with blood on my hands and no memory of how it got there? What if I did something that I could never take back? Something I knew I’d never forgive myself for.
“Fine,” I said finally, the word coming out small and defeated. “You can both stay. Butnotin my bed.”
Dominic’s expression didn’t change, though the hardness in his eyes eased a fraction. “As you wish, angel.”
Trace padded over to the closet and pulled out the extra blanket and pillow to recreate his sleeping quarters on thefloor beside my bed. He shook the blanket out once and folded it down, arranging it into something that vaguely passed for a bed. If he was upset about it, he didn’t let it show. At least not in any way I could see.
Dominic lowered himself into the armchair on the other side of my bed and stretched his long legs out in front of him, as though discomfort were entirely beneath his notice. He appeared perfectly at ease, like a man who would sleep in a chair, on gravel, or at the bottom of a volcano if it meant sparing me even the smallest hurt.
I turned away quickly, burying the warmth that spread through my chest before it could make its way up the surface. I couldn’t trust any of it right now. Not the warmth or the pull or the way my stomach did that traitorous thing whenever either of them were too close to me. The way it made me want to throw out every rule I’d set for myself and just sink into them and never come back up again.
I couldn’t let myself feel any of it. Not until I knew for certain that what I felt was really mine.
Crossing to the dresser, I pulled out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a little more force than necessary.
The mirror caught my reflection the moment I stepped inside, and I stilled, taking in the flushed cheeks, the wild hair, the eyes too bright and strained with everything I hadn’t let out yet. It was hard to look at myself like that, so I didn’t, choosing instead to turn away and focus on the simple task of changing.
My shirt came off first, then my jeans. I reached for the oversized t-shirt I’d grabbed from the dresser when I caught sight of my wrist. A thin, dark line ran along the inside of my forearm, just beneath the surface of my skin. Something about it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
What in the—
Holding my breath, I turned my arm over, angling it toward the light to get a better view. The mark was faint but unmistakable, black as ink under my pale skin. I pressed against it lightly, testing it. There was no pain or swelling. Nothing that signified a serious injury, but my stomach knotted just the same.
It’s probably nothing, I told myself.Just a bruise I don’t remember getting.
Between the ritual, the porting, the wings tearing through my back, there had been plenty of opportunities to get banged up. It would fade. No big deal.
I dropped my hand and forced myself to slow my breathing until the feeling dulled enough to ignore. Whatever it was, I didn’t have the energy to chase it tonight. I quickly finished dressing and shut off the light.
When I emerged from the bathroom, the room had gone quiet, steeped in a low, uneasy tension, lit only by the faint moonlit glow from the window. Trace was already stretched out on the floor, one arm folded behind his head as Dominic sat back in the armchair on the other side of my bed, his watchful eyes finding mine the moment I stepped into view.
“Everything okay?” asked Trace, his easy voice carrying through the darkness.
“Defineokay.” I snorted humorlessly.
He frowned, every line of his face betraying how badly he wanted to be able to fix this for me.
“Perhaps if you allowed us to—”
“No,” I cut in before Dominic could finish his suggestion. Whatever he was going to say, whatever he was offering, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to turn it down.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
