Page 87 of Claim the Light
At the same time, my palms tingle and I sense new warmth pooling in my palms. It’s subtle. So mild that I could mistake it for Lana’s body heat.
I latch on to it, focusing inward.
I seek the tidal wave within me that could set her free, hoping I have the courage to release it from its cage.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Iinhale. Exhale.
On my next inhale, I feel like I’m pulling at my own heart.
Thereislife within me. So much of it that I feel like I’m going to burst, but there’s… something else too.
A trickle of energy that feels darker.
It’s the same wild sensation that made me question the nature of my power and its consequences, that made me fear an internal battle within me.
I can’t identify it, except that I can now sense it’s at the core of my power. Like there’s another part of me immersed at the center of that tidal wave and it’s that other part of myself that I’ve been caging all along—
I gasp as Lana’s hand wraps around my wrist.
“Sophia!” Her voice is sharp but hoarse. “Stop!”
My eyes fly open to meet hers. Her forehead is beaded with sweat and her scales have come out in full force, the strength in her hand nearly crushing my arm.
I have no doubt that this time, her body is responding defensively to my touch.
As if I’m a threat.
I jolt back from her, needing to break the contact between us, but even though my hands lift off her, her own hand continues to grip my wrist. The force of my backward movement jolts both of our arms and wrenches my shoulder socket. I lurch to a stop halfway out of my chair and leaning over her.
“I’m sorry!” she cries, her eyes piercing mine. “I need you to stop, but I can’t let go yet. I’m trying to sense… I can nearly sense…”
“What?” I ask, desperate for her to name this energy that I can’t identify but which is thrumming through me like an electrical current.
“I don’t have a name for it,” she says breathlessly. “But it feels…beyond.”
“Beyond what?”
Her forehead is deeply furrowed, the tension around her mouth increasing. “Beyond what should be possible.”
I stare at her, my dismay only growing. “What does that mean?”
She opens her fist and releases me and it feels like being dropped into the unknown. I plummet back to my seat.
“I’m sorry, Sophia,” she says, worry settling in her eyes. “I can’t describe what I sensed. It was overwhelming and wild and full of possibilities, but it was also like being smashed against rocks and broken into pieces.”
She stops, and there’s silence between us until I say, “I felt it too.”
Her black hair spreads around her face. “A little of your power seems to be healing. Too much is—”
“Dangerous,” I say bitterly.
Too many fucking sunflowers.
She stares ruefully at my wrist as I rub it. “I’m certain you will come to understand your power and to control it,” she says. “You just need more time.”
“I don’t have time,” I snap, and then I try to quell my frustration, try to soften my voice. “Micahdoesn’t have time. Neither does Beatrix. Or you.”
