Page 228 of Nightshade

“Jericho?” As I stepped toward him, he edged away, and it was then I could see he was in a state of shock.

The trembles intensified, his skin turning paler.

He stumbled to the floor, and I lurched toward him, reaching out to grab his arm.

A zap of electricity exploded across my fingertips, and I jumped back, recoiling my hand. “Shit!” The bright current danced over him, as he lay seizing on the floor. “Jericho!”

I wanted so badly to hold him, but I couldn’t. Instead, I held my hands over his body, feeling useless.

He’d come back to me, and I couldn’t even touch him.

Through panting breaths of panic, I stared down at his hand, which shook uncontrollably beside his face. One hand against my belly, I closed my eyes. Please don’t hurt the baby. I dared to touch him again.

Against the shock of pain that rolled through me, I gripped his hand and held it tightly in mine.

The baby stirred inside of me. And as I loosened my grip, intent on letting go, the pain subsided.

Only the incessant trembles remained.

Jericho opened his eye, which was bluer than before. An intensely bright blue, and his pupil had shrank so much, it almost didn’t appear there, at all. His brow twitched with what I prayed was a flicker of recognition.

His skin felt cold to the touch. So cold, I wondered if there was so much as a drop of warmth inside him.

“We have to get you warm,” I whispered, tugging at his arm.

With some resistance, he sat upright and allowed me to help him to his feet. Through the kitchen, I guided him toward the upper level of the house. The wooden steps groaned under his massive weight, and when he stumbled, it took all of my strength to keep him from falling.

We finally reached the small bathroom, made even smaller when he stepped inside, trapping me between the old-fashioned claw-tub shower and the door. I flipped on the water, letting it run, until the steam drifted over top of the curtain, then adjusted the dials so it wouldn’t scald him.

He stood shivering behind me, his gaze spacey. Unfocused.

I reached for his hand and guided him into the water. The moment the spray hit him, he inhaled sharply, muscles tensed, and he stood frozen, as if he couldn’t move. The electrical sparks danced over him, and the slits on his back for his wings expanded and contracted with his breathing, like gills. I focused on the feel of his skin beneath my palm. The tangibility of his body. A wave of emotion moved through me, his form blurred behind a shield of tears. Hold your shit together, Farryn. It was him. Here. In my fucking shower with its old yellowing tiles and the faint scent of bleach from when I’d cleaned it earlier.

Errant drops of water hit my face, mingling with the tears that slipped down my cheeks. I carefully rubbed the water over his back, working it into his skin to absorb the heat, and paused on noticing a flicker of something at his left flank. The burn streak, where he’d been struck by Drystan’s lightning bolt the night he’d died had begun to heal before my eyes. The edges of the wound came together, sealing perfectly into place. Running my finger over the smooth surface left me wondering if it was ever there to begin with. The other, numerous scars, scattered over and between the tattoos on his back must’ve been administered by something that kept him from healing. So many.

Once I’d washed him clean and his skin felt warmer, I flipped off the water and nabbed a towel from the nearby linen shelf. I left him in the warmth of the steamy bathroom to see if the boxes that’d belonged to my father might have any clothes that would fit him, as unlikely as that was.

Rifling through the old, unopened boxes, which sort of smelled like moth balls, I managed to find an old Yale tee and a pair of gray sweatpants that’d probably be way too big around Jericho’s narrow waist. Luckily, they had a drawstring.

When I returned to the bathroom, the door stood open, the room empty. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a brief moment of panic on not seeing him, but when I made my way to my bedroom, I found him standing in the middle of it with the towel wrapped at his waist, his body glistening from the dripping of his wet hair.

“I, um … brought you some clothes.” I set them down on a nearby chair, noticing the slight tremble of my hands. “They probably won’t fit, but …. Hey, are you hungry?“

His lack of response to the question left me wondering if he even had the ability to speak anymore, when he turned to face me, his eye still too bright for the face I remembered. While he raked his gaze over me, his chest rose and fell with quick breaths. As if taking me in for the first time, he wore an expression of panic that told me he didn’t trust what he was seeing. Brow pinched with confusion, he stared off for a moment, as though some memory had caught his attention. Something darkened his eye, and it wasn’t until he stepped closer, that I realized it was the dilating of his pupil, making him look feral. Wild.

“My wings. I cannot summon my wings.” That voice. That beautiful, rich and guttural voice. How badly I’d missed it.

“I … um … I suppose not. They were severed. That night.” My voice wobbled on the last word, remembering so vividly, and the rims of my eyes stung with the threat of more tears.

He stood thoughtful. Pensive. The unreadable expression on his face prompting a million questions in my mind.

“Jericho?” Fingers fidgeting, I didn’t know what to say, or do. I longed to help him, but without him saying anything, I didn’t know where his head was at. Shock? Anger over his wings? Relief for having returned?

Before I even had the chance to brace myself, he shot toward me, impossibly fast, and the wall behind me crashed into my spine. Frantic and desperate, warm lips hunted my throat, and he grazed his teeth over the crook of my collarbone, the sensation rendering me dizzy. He dragged his nose along the edge of my neck, smelling me. Rough fingers sank into my hair, holding me, as if I had any inclination to escape him, and he seized my lips. Neither gentle, nor sweet, he kissed me like he was angry. Violent. Punishing me.

I didn’t know what was happening. And I didn’t care that he was angry.

I kissed him back with the same vindictive force, taking his lip between my teeth and biting down. Digging my nails into his scalp.