her from talking to Drake and solving the puzzle surrounding him. She’d be able to see him through the small, ballistic glass window on the side of the cell, but that wasn’t worth anything. It’d just be sickening to see him paralyzed by venom, slowly and painfully transforming into a Persequor.
Turning back was the best idea. Maybe she’d get in trouble for coming down here, but that didn’t matter. She started to turn away, when she noticed something. The door. She stumbled back a step, blinking a few times to make sure she was seeing things right. The door to the cell was open.
“Good morning.”
The voice froze her in place. Then she slowly closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Because she recognized that husky tone hiding behind all the silkiness in his voice.
It was Drake. And she was about to die.
“What?” Drake asked, his voice coming from behind her. “Do you Warriors not greet people with ‘good morning’ in the Sentinel? Is that too polite? Should I be flipping you off instead?”
Part of her knew his mocking should sting, or at least piss her off. But it didn’t. Was it shock turning her into such a traitor? Probably, because her entire body felt numb, and she couldn’t breathe.
Maybe she should look at Drake and face her death head-on. But her eyes remained squeezed tight, terrified she would see claws or a bladed wing rushing toward her if she opened them.
She flinched as she felt hot breath on the back of her neck. His breaths were short and rapid, like he was in pain.
“You know,” Drake whispered in her ear, “closing your eyes won’t make me disappear.”
She peeked an eye open, because she heard something in his voice: amusement. And, if he’d been turned into a Persequor, then he shouldn’t feel that emotion, or any other.
Allai slowly looked over her shoulder, and stopped breathing when she saw his face not even a foot from hers. Drake was panting hard and definitely in pain. But his jaw was gritted into a determined expression, and his claws hovered just millimeters from the side of her neck.
“Stay
… Stop—
Back, stay
ba…
” Allai trailed off and winced at her bumbling words. They were so hoarse and squeaky, she barely recognized her own voice.
Drake arched an eyebrow. “You need a cough-drop?” A piercing marked his right eyebrow, close to the bridge of his nose. It was black, like everything he wore. On most guys, it would have looked like some kind of punk style statement. But with his intense eyes and the daring smirk on his lips, it just made his angry expression even more intimidating.
Allai’s knees gave out. Everything went black. But it only lasted for a moment, and then little splotches of light began poking at the darkness and into her vision. She groaned, leaning back to find something warm and solid supporting her.
Then she realized she shouldn’t be able to lean back if she’d collapsed, and that the ground shouldn’t be warm. She couldn’t move. Someone muttered something behind her, their breath still tickling her ear. It took her a moment to figure out what the voice was saying: “Wow. I’ve never made anyone faint before. I mean, I’ve knocked people out, but this is kind of different.”
Drake. That’s what she was leaning against. Him.
When had he caught her? She hadn’t felt him. Allai forced herself to take a deep breath; the last of the black spots disappeared, and the rest of her clarity returned. She needed to get out of Drake’s grasp. Immediately.
It didn’t take much. She just pounded her fist against his forearm a couple times before he muttered a curse and let go. It wasn’t as great of an outcome as she’d expected. She crumpled to the ground without his support, the room spinning wildly around her, and her breaths coming in heavy pants. The toe of a boot nudged her shoulder.
“You okay down there?” Drake asked. “You look pale.”
She wanted to scream at him. Because he wasn’t supposed to be out of
Turning back was the best idea. Maybe she’d get in trouble for coming down here, but that didn’t matter. She started to turn away, when she noticed something. The door. She stumbled back a step, blinking a few times to make sure she was seeing things right. The door to the cell was open.
“Good morning.”
The voice froze her in place. Then she slowly closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Because she recognized that husky tone hiding behind all the silkiness in his voice.
It was Drake. And she was about to die.
“What?” Drake asked, his voice coming from behind her. “Do you Warriors not greet people with ‘good morning’ in the Sentinel? Is that too polite? Should I be flipping you off instead?”
Part of her knew his mocking should sting, or at least piss her off. But it didn’t. Was it shock turning her into such a traitor? Probably, because her entire body felt numb, and she couldn’t breathe.
Maybe she should look at Drake and face her death head-on. But her eyes remained squeezed tight, terrified she would see claws or a bladed wing rushing toward her if she opened them.
She flinched as she felt hot breath on the back of her neck. His breaths were short and rapid, like he was in pain.
“You know,” Drake whispered in her ear, “closing your eyes won’t make me disappear.”
She peeked an eye open, because she heard something in his voice: amusement. And, if he’d been turned into a Persequor, then he shouldn’t feel that emotion, or any other.
Allai slowly looked over her shoulder, and stopped breathing when she saw his face not even a foot from hers. Drake was panting hard and definitely in pain. But his jaw was gritted into a determined expression, and his claws hovered just millimeters from the side of her neck.
“Stay
… Stop—
Back, stay
ba…
” Allai trailed off and winced at her bumbling words. They were so hoarse and squeaky, she barely recognized her own voice.
Drake arched an eyebrow. “You need a cough-drop?” A piercing marked his right eyebrow, close to the bridge of his nose. It was black, like everything he wore. On most guys, it would have looked like some kind of punk style statement. But with his intense eyes and the daring smirk on his lips, it just made his angry expression even more intimidating.
Allai’s knees gave out. Everything went black. But it only lasted for a moment, and then little splotches of light began poking at the darkness and into her vision. She groaned, leaning back to find something warm and solid supporting her.
Then she realized she shouldn’t be able to lean back if she’d collapsed, and that the ground shouldn’t be warm. She couldn’t move. Someone muttered something behind her, their breath still tickling her ear. It took her a moment to figure out what the voice was saying: “Wow. I’ve never made anyone faint before. I mean, I’ve knocked people out, but this is kind of different.”
Drake. That’s what she was leaning against. Him.
When had he caught her? She hadn’t felt him. Allai forced herself to take a deep breath; the last of the black spots disappeared, and the rest of her clarity returned. She needed to get out of Drake’s grasp. Immediately.
It didn’t take much. She just pounded her fist against his forearm a couple times before he muttered a curse and let go. It wasn’t as great of an outcome as she’d expected. She crumpled to the ground without his support, the room spinning wildly around her, and her breaths coming in heavy pants. The toe of a boot nudged her shoulder.
“You okay down there?” Drake asked. “You look pale.”
She wanted to scream at him. Because he wasn’t supposed to be out of