He sheathed his blade, waiting for the power to ignite. The last time he did this—about two decades ago—it’d taken only a few seconds for him to feel the effects of the new talent.
This one appeared to be coming to him gradually, likely because he’d imbibed less blood than the other experience. He could take more if—
His knees nearly buckled as the full force of her ability stole his breath.
Fuck!
The pain.
It hurt his heart, squeezing the organ so tightly he couldn’t breathe. It overwhelmed him, bringing tears to his eyes. He’d never felt anything like it, as though someone had taken a dagger to his chest and shoved deep.
Wind blew through his ears, roaring with rage, inundating his senses and handicapping him entirely. Where was it coming from? How was this possible?
More tears streamed down his face, his cheeks aching from the assault. Fuck, he was wheezing, and at some point, he’d ended up on the floor beside the female. She stared down at him with sharp blue eyes filled with the agony he felt inside.
How was she doing this to him? Crippling him beneath this wave of unknown pain?
Deep voices boomed overhead, their presence flaying the skin right off of Gabriel’s prone form. He’d never experienced such brutality, nor did he comprehend the source.
What was this power? It reminded him of Alik’s ability to mentally torture his victims. But Gabriel was immune to those gifts. Unless Clara’s blood was somehow connected, but he doubted it.
Her blood, he thought to himself, trying to regain his focus. This is her blood.
No, not her blood.
Her power.
He was feeling the results of her empathy. Emotions.
His eyes widened at the realization that he was experiencing her emotions through empathy. And all the emotions surrounding them. At once. Something he’d never been exposed to in his entire existence.
He’d only meant to test his own levels of humanistic sensibilities. He hadn’t considered what turning on this ability would mean for him in regard to others.
All their emotions became his own.
And Gabriel had no training in how to handle this forced sensation. He never had a practical reason to learn it.
Yet it was the anguish emanating from Clara that startled him more, and the fact that he wanted to help her. Because no one should ever endure that kind of agony.
Except, no, she’d earned that pain.
But did she? he wondered, conflicted by what he sensed in her emotional aura.
He shook his head, attempting to clear it. The words of the others started to infiltrate his mind, Balthazar commenting that it seemed Gabriel had more than just borrowed Clara’s ability—he’d consumed it.
Which was an obvious statement.
What they should be paying attention to was Clara’s pain. Did they not sense it? Couldn’t Balthazar hear it? Could no one else feel it? The emotions burned against Gabriel’s conscience, forcing him to act. He needed it to stop so he could concentrate! To find himself again and wait out these negative consequences of her ability.
One thing was astutely obvious to him—he was not at emotional risk levels.
However, he might be after this. Because fuck.
“Help her,” he managed through a dry throat. “Fuck. Make it stop!”
Silence met his words.
An unacceptable reaction.
