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Something cold pressed into her palm. Stinging. Ice.
“Remember what your grandmother said: Push the fear down. Think of those you love.”
“No,” she panted. “Leave me alone.”
“Please, Alora. You’re hurting me.”
Kaevin. I can’t hurt Kaevin. Clamping her fingers around the cube, she centered her thoughts on the freezing sensation. Bit by bit, her terror crawled back into its shell, leaving a slimy trail of pain behind.
Something jarred the bed, and the pressure of sharp claws slid across Alora’s arm. Fur in her nose. Panting. A bark. A wet tongue assaulted her face.
“Bozeman, get off me!” Alora complained, shoving her elbow at the golden retriever who’d invaded her space. Her protest was met with another lick, this one in her open mouth.
“Yuck!” She spit as she laughed out loud. Still gripping the ice in her hand, she pushed into a sitting position to escape the dog’s loving attack.
“I believe I’ll make you brush your teeth before I kiss you again,” said Kaevin, peering up from the spot where he’d collapsed on the floor, leaning against the bed for support. His expression revealed his relief that another crisis had been averted.
A thought flashed into her head. “What happened to Jireo?” she whispered, cringing as she waited for the answer.
“He’s well.” Kaevin looked around as if his best friend might be in the room somewhere. “You transported him just before you p
assed out... before we passed out.”
“What happened?” Uncle Charles strode into the room, raking his fingers through his hair. He clapped his hands together once, ordering Bozeman off the bed. The dog complied, with his tail between his legs.
“I don’t understand why this happened,” Alora said. “I know how to draw my power from stone or water or forest. Why do I keep drawing from the soulmate bond? And why do I always lose control of my emotions?”
“Are you nuts?” Another voice invaded. Gruff and grumpy.
Dr. Sanders. He’s just like Laethan. I wonder if all doctors are grouchy.
“Have you forgotten that her father tortured her just a few months ago? Burned her over and over again?” Doc shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down his nose. “This is a classic case of PTSD. What she needs is counseling. Cognitive therapy.”
At his mention of her father, Alora clamped tighter on the ice, staving off another wave of panic.
“What is this peety essty?” asked Kaevin.
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Doc explained, “It’s when a person re-experiences the same symptoms or emotions of a traumatic event long after it happened. Could be bad dreams or anxiety or panic. It happens to many people who go through trauma. I’d say having your father tie you up and torture you would qualify. And didn’t Jireo tell us they just saw that maniac again?”
Picturing a rope wrapped around her emotions multiple times, Alora ground out between clenched teeth, “Why do I have it? Why me and not Kaevin?” Feeling cool air on her cheeks, she was embarrassed to find she was crying, and moved the ice to clasp it between both hands.
Kaevin pulled himself to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. His hands reached out and cupped both of hers. “I believe I might have it, as well. I have nightmares...” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his voice dropped. “Almost every night.”
Alora’s throat constricted. “That could be from me. I’m not good at controlling my empathy at night.”
“I thought you’d pretty much gotten a tight hold on that weird gift.” Uncle Charles’ face crunched in a disgruntled frown. “I don’t get it. Raelene said you probably had this emotion thing for years. Why, all of a sudden, is it out of control?”
“Grandmother told me my empathy gift must have grown stronger after the soulmate bond formed.”
“I’m telling you, it’s PTSD,” Doc interrupted.
“If it’s PTSD, does that mean I’m especially weak? Not everyone gets it, right?” asked Alora, sliding the ice back to one hand so she could rub an achy spot on her forehead.
“Weakness has nothing to do with it, Alora. Strong people get it all the time.” Doc spoke with enough conviction to assuage her doubts.
“No one would ever accuse you of weakness,” said Uncle Charles. “Not after what you and Kaevin went through.”
Kaevin climbed to his wobbly feet. “It would be excellent, however, if you could master the art of drawing your power from a source other than the soulmate bond when you’re utilizing your empathy gift.”
