His fingers curled, palm cupped, riding high. My hand was on fire as her spine arched and her thighs widened.
The bright flare of light spilled from the corner of the room. I turned toward that glow, feeling the pulsating power deep inside. The blast of raw energy hit me like a fist to the chest. I ground my jaw, and held on while its iridescence swallowed the room.
“Not without a fight,” I whispered, and the lucent glow sent a blast through the room. “We won’t lose this time. Not where she’s concerned.”
Pain roared, tearing through my head. I touched my nose…my fingers came away bloody. This wasn’t the first blow…it wasn’t even the thousandth blow.
He once had the numbers on His side…but not anymore…not anymore. “You can’t have her. Not this one. Not this time.”
The heavy thud against the door sent a boom through the room. Inside that room the hound howled with rage. She’d tear me apart…I glanced at the fading pink scars on my arms and then turned to His glow once more.
Never before had the promise of war been the promise of hope—desire filled me as I turned toward her…but it would be now.
The light shone, rippling with rage and power. But He’d had his day. He’d had his moment. He’d led them to this.
Now it was our turn.
A moan slipped from her lips as War eased away. I stared at his phantom fingers and felt the rush of power. His touch was for her mind only…for in this moment her body was mine.
“Make her ours,” War whispered, eyes alight with hunger. “Make her ours.”
Her breath caught as the Calling raged.
Pages fluttered from the open Bible as I flanked the bed. I reached out, flesh touched leather, and the fire of his words raced, searing my fingers…turning flesh to bone. He wanted her to see my true form…see the devil for who he was.
But there was no pure light.
And there was no evil darkness.
There were only shades of gray.
The Calling filled the room and His light dimmed.
A smile creeped, stealing the thunder of this battle. I turned my head and reached for the coverings.
Soon…very, very soon.
War waited. War with all his violent beginnings, Famine and Death with the end. My fingers trembled as the Calling pulsed through the room.
Emerald sparkled, throwing fractures of brilliant green light.
She thought the Calling was Him, but she was so very wrong.
She can never know…my own words filled me.
She can never know.
18
A moan filled my head. I caught the sound and swam out of the murky depths to the light. My body hummed, soft, powerful. But there was no pain, no nothing…only fading dreams I couldn’t quite catch—dreams that made my pulse race and my body tingle.
I cracked open my eyes and turned my head, stars sparkled in the sky. I closed my eyes once more, reliving the memory. The clang of pans as Mom fixed dinner, Dad’s heavy boots as he travelled from one side of the apartment to the other, and Justin Bieber blaring through the walls as Sarah dreamt and danced.
It could all be right here…right now. Instead of lost and lonely silence.
I waited for dreams to conjure reality, until the throbbing ache in my bladder opened my eyes. My fingers skimmed cotton sheets as I grasped the covering and yanked.
I slid bare feet from the warmth to touch the cold floor and stood. The room swayed…I tried to remember what happened, tried to piece fragments together.
Flashes came back to me. Shadows and light. A mother holding out her baby, eyes filled with desperation and fear.
I stilled, stole a breath, and walked slowly into the bathroom. My fingers worked on their own, reaching for the button of my jeans and instead found sweats.
Damon…Kenya…
The cage…the bomb.
It all came back to me, stealing me from the safety of my home to the memory of the past. My knees buckled and I hit the seat. I held on as acid rose, twisting and turning my stomach as the last image came to me.
His face. His voice…I’ve got you now, Harlow.
And another…War…the word sent shivers down my spine. War lingered, savage and hungry, and the battlefield was me.
I stumbled for the shower as acid spilled from my mouth. My spine bowed, the ache driving an unseen talon into my mind. Soft padding met my fingers as I skimmed my head.
Agony flared, tearing across my scalp. I glanced at my arms, to the pale coverings in the faint glow of the moon. I was covered with dressings, from my belly to my arms…and my head.
My legs refused to work, shuddering and shaking as I tried to stand. I made it to the basin and reached for the box of matches. One strike and I touched the flare to the candle, two more illuminated the room.
The faint orange glow caught the shine in the mirror. I lifted my gaze to find haunted eyes staring back at me.
Black nebulous eyes like billowing clouds of volcanic ash.
What the Hell happened to me?
The room swayed, blending past into present. I could still hear the roar of the audience, still see their filthy faces, smiles wide, kill her! Kill her!
I clutched Kenya to my chest. Her whispered words came back to me.
You have to save them.
Those words nailed me to the spot.
She needed me, she hinged everything on…me. The book, the plague…
And I failed her. I failed them all.
Tears spilled as I clawed my head. The dressing lifted, pulling strands of hair taut as I jerked it free.
I wanted it off. I wanted it all off.
I wanted me hurting, feeling anything but this ache—this emptiness.
The wad of cotton came free. I cast it into the basin and yanked the tape on my arms.
You don’t want to do that.
My heart leaped, fingers stilled. I wrenched my gaze over my shoulder to the shadows in my room.
The voice was familiar…this is the last one, Harlow.
I tried to still the shake in my voice. “Who’s there?”
Orange flames flickered, casting amber shadows against the walls. I yanked the dressing and reached for my clothes. I stared at the green surgical shirt as I dragged it over my head, and then shoved down the sweats.
They weren’t my clothes…and this wasn’t my body.
This me was numb, homeless, and trapped inside familiar flesh. Goosebumps raced as I unhooked my bra and stepped into the shower. The water was fast…and cold.
A shudder tore free with the shock, nipples tightened, puckering under my touch as I dropped my head back and stepped under the spray.
Do you know how long it’s been since I had chicken?
“Three years,” the answer slipped from my lips as heat flared.
Memories surfaced, my bedroom…my bed.
Is she ready? The question sent a quake through my body.
No, but she will be.
I remember them now, ghostly forms in a dream. Heat flared, carving a path to the valley of my thighs as their touch was resurrected in my mind.
Candle flames flickered as a gust of wind billowed the curtains.