Chapter 70 CHAPTER 70
Chapter 70 CHAPTER 70
I remained kneeling beside the bed long after getting her away from Angel who wanted to know what’s wrong with Ayla instead of doing as told
The silver of Ayla’s eyes held the lamplight without reflection of anything human.
Her fist stayed twisted in the front of my shirt, the fabric drawn tight enough that I felt every shallow pull of her breath against my chest.
The pointed tips of her teeth rested against her lower lip, white and precise. A faint sheen of sweat had formed along her hairline even though her skin under my palm was freezing.
I eased my free hand up to cover hers. The knuckles under my fingers were locked rigid. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
The sound of my own voice seemed too loud in the quiet room. Only the soft tick of the clock and the uneven rhythm of her breathing filled the space.
Her grip loosened a fraction. The silver gaze flicked once toward the door, then back to me.
A low sound escaped her throat half growl, half broken exhale. I watched the muscles along her jaw tighten and release.
The metallic scent that clung to her skin had grown sharper, mixed now with the clean cotton of the gown and the faint trace of bath soap still trapped in her damp hair.
I rose carefully, keeping one knee on the mattress so she would not feel the distance.
The bedside lamp threw a warm circle across the sheets, leaving the corners of the room in shadow.
I reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. The surface of the liquid trembled slightly when I lifted it. “Small sips,” I told her, guiding the rim to her mouth.
She drank, the movement stiff, a thin trail of water escaping down her chin. I wiped it away with the edge of my thumb. Her skin felt soft.
The temperature in her body shifted again without warning.
Heat bloomed under my palm where it rested against her shoulder, sudden and fierce, as though the earlier cold had been only a thin shell. A tremor ran through her frame.
Her fingers released my shirt and flew to her eyes once more, pressing hard enough that the skin around them whitened.
“It burns,” she whispered. The words scraped. “Alex, something’s moving behind them.”
I caught her wrists gently and drew them down. The silver orbs stared up at me, brighter now, almost luminous.
I could see no pupil, only that unbroken metallic surface. My own pulse had settled into a hard, steady knock against my ribs.
I kept my breathing even, measured, not to alarm her that anything is out of control. I don’t know what she might do out of anger.
“Look at me,” I said. “I can’t even see you, why would you say look at me?” She said in a clear voice, I shrugged as if she can see me.
“I’m sorry.” Her head tilted a fraction. The pointed teeth flashed again as her lips parted.
For a moment the silver eyes narrowed, and I felt the air between us change
thicker, charged, the way it had felt the night she first threw power across a room without touching anyone. The lamp flickered once. A soft crackle of static lifted the fine hairs along my forearms.
I did not pull away. Instead I leaned closer until our foreheads nearly touched. The cold-and-heat battle still warred across her skin.
One side of her face burned; the other remained ice.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, quick. The door opened without a knock.
Selena stepped inside. Her eyes moved from my face to Ayla’s in a single sweep.
She crossed the room and set a small leather pouch on the nightstand.
The scent of crushed herbs and dried sage rose immediately. “How long has she been like this?” she asked, voice low.
“The silver appeared minutes ago,” I answered. “Before that the fever and the cold kept going and coming back. The cold showers stopped helping hours ago.”
Selena nodded. She reached into the pouch and drew out a thin strip of dark cloth and a small vial of clear liquid that caught the lamp light like water.
“Do you know perhaps what could be the reason for such drastic change?” I asked
looking at Selena who shook her head without sparing another glance.
Ayla’s head turned toward the sound of the cork leaving the bottle. The silver eyes tracked the movement with unnatural precision.
“Ayla,” Selena said, “I need you to keep your eyes open a little longer.”
Ayla’s breath hitched.
The pointed teeth pressed harder against her lip until a thin bead of blood appeared
darker than it should have been, almost black in the low light.
My hand found hers again, fingers lacing through the cold ones.
Selena dampened the cloth and pressed it gently along Ayla’s brow, then lower, careful not to touch the silver surface of the eyes themselves.
Ayla’s body arched once against the pillows. A short, sharp sound left her throat. The temperature under my palm spiked so high I nearly pulled back, then plummeted again within the space of two heartbeats.
“The change is accelerating,” Selena murmured. She did not look at me when she spoke. Her attention stayed fixed on the silver. “The bite on her arm was never only a bite.”
“What do you mean?” I watched Ayla’s chest rise and fall in rapid, shallow pulls.
I removed the gown from her arm, revealing the faint, healed imprint of teeth that the spiritual doctor had found a few days ago.
In the lamplight the marks seemed darker, as though the skin itself remembered.
Ayla’s free hand lifted and hovered near her own face, fingers trembling. “I can hear everything,” she said. The words came out layered, almost doubled.
“Your heart, hers. The clock. The blood moving under the skin.” Her head tilted toward the window. “Something is walking the tree line.”
I glanced once at the dark glass. Nothing moved that I could see, yet the fine hairs at the back of my neck lifted.
Selena’s expression did not change, but her fingers tightened around the damp cloth.
I shifted my weight so I could sit fully on the edge of the mattress, still holding Ayla’s hand.
I kept my voice level. “We stay right here. Whatever is waking, it wakes with both of us in the room.”
Her silver eyes found mine again. For a fraction of a second the metallic surface seemed to thin, and I thought I saw the familiar brown beneath it then the silver flooded back, brighter, harder.
The pointed teeth remained. A low sound vibrated in her chest, not quite a growl.
Selena set the cloth aside and opened the second vial. The scent that rose was sharper—iron and frost and something that reminded me of the night the previous mate had died of silver, though I had only ever heard the story second-hand.
She touched a single drop to the pulse point at Ayla’s throat. Ayla’s body went rigid. The silver eyes flared.
The temperature under my hand swung once more, heat to ice and back again, so fast the contrast burned.
I did not let go.
Ayla’s fingers tightened around mine with sudden, surprising strength. The silver gaze locked on my face.
“Alex.” I leaned closer until the cold of her forehead met mine. My own breath mixed with the metallic air she exhaled.
The clock kept ticking without any changes with Ayla, Selena’s quiet movements continued at the edge of my vision.
And beneath it all I felt the power rising in the woman whose hand I refused to release.