Purpose (31 page)

“You okay?” Tristan asked when he and Owen
came inside.

“I don’t know. I’m
freezing.
” My teeth
rattled noisily against each other.

“Is it still from earlier?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I felt a
lot better when we were swimming. Now I feel like I’m getting
sick.”

Tristan held his palm to my face and then
wrapped it around my hand. It felt like a heating pad. “You’re like
ice
. Colder than you were with Sheree.”

He and Owen exchanged meaningful looks.

“I’ll call Sophia and Rina,” Owen said.

He stepped outside and Tristan disappeared
into our bedroom. He came out a few minutes later with wet hair and
wearing khaki shorts, instead of swim trunks. He must have taken a
quick shower. I felt bad—it had to have been freezing because I
used all the hot water.

Owen returned at the same time. “I couldn’t
get either one of them but finally got a hold of Julia. She’s with
them at the safe house. They’re still working on Sheree, but they
want to know if anything happens with you and the
Ang’dora
,
so Julia said she’d tell them.”

“Is this normal?” I asked. “For the
Ang’dora
, I mean?”

Owen shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong
person. But there’s not exactly anything
normal
about you,
Alexis.”

He was teasing, but absolutely right.

I pulled the comforter tighter around me,
closed my eyes and tried to focus on making the shivers go away.
The attempt proved pointless. Tristan lifted my head and shoulders
and sat down, laying me down in his lap and rubbing my arms and
shoulders. If his shower had been cold, I couldn’t feel it on him
now. He felt nice and toasty. He asked Owen to get more blankets
from the back bedrooms and a minute later I felt the added weight,
but they didn’t do much to warm me.

“Sh-sh-sheesh, I-I-I’m s-so
c-c-cold
,”
I chattered. Tristan was right. This version of cold felt much
worse than it had with Sheree. My whole body felt like it had been
plunged into a tub of ice water, the ache going right to the bone,
everywhere except around my heart. Warmth cocooned it.
At least
it won’t freeze. Has to be a good sign, right?

I closed my eyes again and tried to imagine
pulling the warmth from my heart into the rest of my body. Then I
tried not to focus on how cold I felt at all, but on something
different. I pictured Dorian’s face. My heart warmed more, but
nothing else. So I imagined being held in Tristan’s warm arms,
close to his warm body. The thoughts seemed to be working until a
violent shudder racked my body. Tristan moved to get up.

“No, p-p-please d-d-don’t leave.”

“I’ll be right back.”

When he returned, he placed a hot, wet
washcloth around the back of my neck. Then he removed the back
cushions from the couch and lay down behind me, wrapping his arms
around me, the whole length of my body pressed against his. The
shivering slowed and then finally stopped. I closed my eyes and
deep sleep overcame me.

I didn’t remember dreaming, but I did
remember a disembodied face staring at me. I thought it belonged to
the man who’d taken Sheree, but I couldn’t be positive. I’d only
seen her kidnapper’s face for a brief time and through the haze of
her memories. The face watching me floated in front of me, his hair
and a goatee white as snow, his eyes like blue ice. Though the hair
gave the impression of old age, no wrinkles lined his face. His
lips pulled into a devious grin, exposing icicles for teeth. The
face observed me and I thought he might be patiently waiting for me
to do something. Nothing ever happened, though.

When I awoke much later, chills racked my
body. Through the sliding glass doors, I saw the moon hanging low
in the sky, as if strung on a necklace between the trees over our
beach. I had no idea of the exact time, but I felt sure midnight
had slipped by while I slept. Tristan had left my side. He came
back when he saw me shaking and lay next to me again.

“S-s-sorry,” I said. “I-I-I kn-now it’s n-not
comfortable.”

He had to scrunch his legs up just to fit on
the couch.

“Do you want to go to the bed?” he asked.

“N-n-no. N-not now. I c-can’t move.”

My body felt like a slab of marble—too heavy
to lift and cold to the touch—and I wondered if death felt like
this. Tristan eventually warmed me enough again that I stopped
shivering. I just wanted to lay there like a rock. Not a log—I felt
too heavy to be a log. I was definitely a cold, heavy rock.

“Did Owen leave?” I asked.

“He’s just making more calls. Trying to find
out when Sophia and Rina will be back, but they’re still working
with Sheree. Do you need me to get you anything?”

“No. Just stay here, please. You’re really
warm.”

He kissed my cheek and neck. His lips felt
like hot matches striking against my icy skin. Pulling on every
ounce of energy I could muster to move what felt like twice my body
weight, I turned over to face him. I pressed my face against his
chest and inhaled his warmth, his mouthwatering scent coating the
back of my throat. He rubbed my back through the layers of
blankets. Sleep overcame me again.

The next time I awoke, the sky was
pitch-black and it felt like that time just before morning, when
the whole world seemed to be dead. The coldest and darkest hour of
the day. I couldn’t even see the moon from my position on my back.
It had probably set by now. There were no lights on inside and I
should have been blind in the complete darkness, but I could see
perfectly. Owen slept sideways in the chair, his legs dangling over
the arm. Tristan slept next to me, his arm and leg thrown over me,
pinning me down. My clothes stuck to my skin, making me realize
they were drenched in sweat. I had the sudden need to escape from
all the heavy blankets, feeling as though they were made of iron
and weighing me down. I kicked and thrashed, not able to get
Tristan and the blankets off of me fast enough.

“What’s wrong?” Tristan asked, quickly awake.
Owen stirred in the chair and peered at me through slit eyes.

“I’m so
hot
now,” I panted, finally
unwrapping myself.

I stood up and pinpricks of light danced in
front of my eyes. My legs trembled, feeling like cooked noodles
under my weight. Tristan held his hand to the small of my back
before I toppled back on him. Once I steadied myself, I headed for
the bedroom, peeling the sweat-soaked clothes off of me. I wanted
to lay naked, spread eagle on the cool bed, but stuffing still
bulged out of its shredded top. I took another shower instead, this
time letting the cool water run over me. I had to change the
pressure on the showerhead to a gentle spray—anything else felt
like thousands of needles piercing me. I felt every single drop
patter against my skin, like the fat drops at the beginning of a
rain storm hitting me one-by-one, but these were small and
thousands at a time. It was a strange feeling.

Clean clothes at a minimum, I put on a tank
top and pajama shorts, my only other choice being one of the fancy
sundresses. The clothes rubbed harshly against my skin, feeling
more like paper than cotton. The fabric even sounded like paper
scraping and crinkling against itself. Tristan and Owen both eyed
me when I came out of the bedroom.

“How do you feel?” Tristan asked. I flinched
and covered my ears with my hands. He sounded like he nearly
yelled.

“Except that everything feels, looks and
sounds so intense, a lot better,” I whispered. “A little shaky,
though. I’m really thirsty…and hungry.”

They both sighed with relief and the rush of
air sounded like two train whistles. Being thirsty and hungry must
have been a good sign. I drank a big glass of ice water and it
cooled my insides, but not enough to radiate outwards to my
feverish skin. I fixed another glass, retrieved the last of the
crackers and sat next to Tristan on the couch. My muscles twitched,
like they did when I wanted to run.

“That was weird,” I said, still whispering.
“I was so cold and tired. Now I feel really warm but energetic. I
feel like I could go for a ten-mile run.”

Tristan chuckled quietly and, thankfully,
kept his voice low. “I don’t think so. You take it easy.”

Electricity pulsed through my body, though. I
wasn’t sure I
could
sit still. A cell phone rang shrilly. I
jumped and covered my ears again. Owen muttered, “finally,” as he
stepped outside, lifting the phone to his ear.

I turned sideways on the couch and lay my
legs over Tristan’s lap. He brushed my cheek with his fingertips
and his touch felt so soft, but pleasurably shocking. Goose bumps
spread down my neck and arms. He smiled and he looked absolutely
sublime, his features even more perfectly sculpted than I’d ever
noticed—if at all possible—even with the scars. My heart swelled
with the immense love I had for him and a smile spread across my
own face.

“Thanks for keeping me warm,” I
whispered.

“My pleasure.” He leaned over and brushed his
lips across mine, sending another delightful shock.

“I love you, my sweet Tristan.”

“I love you,
ma lykita
.” He smiled
again and my heart flipped. “I’ll never understand why you love me,
but I will take every bit you give.”

“You have it all.”

“And you have all of me.” His fingers brushed
my cheek again and I shuddered. He leaned in for a long, loving
kiss and it felt like he’d never kissed me before. His lips felt
soft and full against mine and silky smooth, and I could taste real
mangos, papayas and lime on my tongue. A sudden desire rose and I
had to fight the impulse to rip his clothes off and jump him right
here on the couch. I settled for wrapping my arms around his neck
and pulling him hard against me as he continued to kiss me.

Owen interrupted us.

“Sophia and Rina are on their way back,” he
said, keeping his voice low. “I’m going to meet them outside to
make sure they get in with no problems.”

He eyed us. Tristan disentangled himself from
my hold.

“Don’t get crazy. I won’t be long,” Owen
added with a shake of his head.

“I wish we had more time,” I said after he
left. “I’m quite enjoying these new sensations.”

“We’ll have plenty of time soon, my
love.”

“I just don’t know how long these heightened
senses will last.”

I stroked his face and found myself
surprisingly amazed at the texture—I’d never noticed just how
velvety his skin felt. Except for the scars. They weren’t soft and
spongy like normal scars. These were hard, rigid. I suddenly didn’t
like touching them. An icy sensation flowed into my fingertips when
I did, like hundreds of tiny icicles pricking my skin. I hadn’t
noticed that before either. The feeling made the hairs on the back
of my neck stand up.

So I ran my fingers over his lips instead,
which felt much better because they reminded me of Dorian’s cheeks
when he was a baby—smooth and supple, inviting me for a kiss.
Tristan cupped his hand around my face, stroking my cheek with his
thumb. My skin warmed even more and tingled, the feeling spreading
throughout my face, up into my scalp and down through my neck.
Goose bumps rose and I shivered.

“Are you cold again?” he asked, his brows
furrowing with concern.

“No, not at all. Just…
tingly
.” I
shivered again.

He smiled with understanding. “Hmm…I wish we
had more time, too.”

He winked and I fell back against the arm of
the couch, my insides softening so I couldn’t hold myself up
anymore. He leaned over and kissed me again, his hand trailing
lightly down my neck and shoulder and arm, electricity spreading in
a web across my skin.

I instantly felt overheated. My blood
simmered. I had to push him back.

“Okay, maybe not. That’s too much,” I
breathed.

I fanned myself with my hand. He blew lightly
on my face, his cool, tangy-sweet breath filling my nostrils and
into my mouth, overwhelming me. My heart started racing and I
thought my temperature shot up three degrees. My blood no longer
simmered—it boiled. My skin crawled from my scalp to the tips of my
fingers and toes. I jumped off the couch, panting.

“It’s too much! I can’t take it!”

I grabbed the glass of ice water and drained
it. The liquid felt like hot tea by the time it hit my stomach. I
went into the kitchen, filled the glass again and chugged it. I
splashed cool water on my face and neck and then leaned over the
sink, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths. None of it helped.
My heart continued to race and my skin prickled and burned.

“Son of a witch, I feel like I could jump out
of my skin,” I panted. Tristan came into the kitchen and my skin
tingled and crawled with just the anticipation of his touch. I held
my hand up when he came within three feet. “I think you’ll send me
into cardiac arrest if you come any closer.”

“Alexis…are you okay? You’re so pale.” He
still whispered but it sounded so
loud
.

I turned to look at him. Not a light shone in
the house but I had to squint because the room looked so bright.
All of my senses seemed to be crashing with overload.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

Then several things happened simultaneously.
The front door flew open with what sounded like an explosion. Owen,
Mom, Rina and another woman appeared in the kitchen doorway. The
air swooshed over me like a raging wind. I dropped the glass I held
and it shattered shrilly on the floor. The sound pierced my ear
drums. My heart contracted painfully and burned white-hot.
No,
not my heart burning. Above it
. The skin of the Amadis mark
scorched, like it had been pressed with the mean end of a branding
iron. Pain ripped through my chest. I screamed in agony and my
fingernails clawed into my breasts.