“James,” says Adam, his voice hardening. “What is going on?”
I’m still trying to figure out what to say to him when her eyes fly open.
27
James
Rosabelle gasps. Draws back.
Looking into her eyes turns me into an idiot in an instant. It’s amazing. An alchemical process. It should be studied. I’ve actually forgotten how to speak. I feel like I’ve been fighting for my life, like I need to convalesce. I can still feel the impression of her lips on my throat. The scent of her is in my head. Under my skin.
I can’t breathe deeply enough.
She’s giving me that look, that half-lidded, dizzying look. Her eyes are slightly glazed, still burning off the haze of dreams, her face flushed with the heat of sleep. Her cheek is faintly creased with an imprint of my shirt.
I stare at the soft, red mark.
My head goes hot as I take her in, my eyes sweeping across her features, lingering at her mouth. My arms are still wrapped around her, her silky hair streaming down her back, grazing my hands. My heart is working too hard to be subtle about what’s happening in my body. I feel her own fears rising; I can practically touch the connection between us. She looks disoriented and dazed, but she doesn’t try to move out of my arms.
She takes another sharp breath, this time nearly sittingupright in the process, and the stark movement is so obvious everyone reacts at the same time. There’s a rush of motion as Winston, Nazeera, and Adam turn fully to face us, but I can’t look away from Rosabelle.
I’m frozen.
“Hey,” I say softly, searching her eyes.
My hand moves to the back of her head automatically, bracing her as she looks up at me. “You’re not in danger, okay? You’re safe. Everything is fine.”
She exhales; her eyes close. I watch her wet her lips. I feel like I’m not fully in my body.
Rosabelle’s hand is pressed to my chest.
“Welcome back,” Nazeera calls from the kitchen. “How was your nap?”
The interruption is like ice water.
Cold. Bracing.
I’m so grateful I nearly thank her out loud, but Rosabelle goes rigid at the sound of Nazeera’s voice, her eyes flying open in horror.
“Yeah, welcome back,” says Winston. “I gave up my day off for this. I’m still waiting for the part where something exciting happens.”
Rosabelle tries to push up, away from me, but it’s a half-hearted effort. I can feel the tremble in her body; the fatigue she’s trying to mask.
“Hey,” I say, my hands sliding to her waist. “I’ve got you.”
It’s the smallest thing, the way she looks up at me then. The way she lets herself lean on me a little, lets me lever her upright.
It leaves a dent in my chest.
Rosabelle sways slightly as she stands. She closes her eyes again, trying to steady herself, but when she opens them she looks dizzy.
“What’s wrong with her?” says Winston. He pops another orange slice into his mouth.
“What do you think is wrong with her, genius?” I hit back. “She was dead for three days.”
“Yeah, but she seemed fine earlier,” Winston says, talking around the bite of orange. “Actually, she was perfectly fine before you showed up. The minute you walked in she went weird.”
“Okay, asshole.”
