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The language of my ancestors.
It’s strange to think about, and if I had any connection with my birth parents, I might be inclined to find out more. I might want to know which side passed on the magic, and if either of them knew about monsters. But I never knew either of my parents—the earliest memories I have are from my first foster family—and the point is moot. I’ll never know where I came from.
I close the book, resentful of the painful memories it brings up, and set it aside.
The minutes slip by, and I try to find ways to entertain myself, but boredom takes hold and I pace the room. Elio said they would be right back, which was clearly a lie, but I try not to panic. Hopefully, Rafe is filling them in on every dull second of his three-day journey, and not sending them out on assignments.
When I reach one end of the room, I turn on the spot and head back across the space. I’m halfway across the floor when the door springs open, and Elio hurries inside. His expression is serious, lips drawn tightly together.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Rafe said he saw a group of Malevs hanging out uncomfortably close to the woods when he was coming in,” he explains, quickly making his way over to me. He takes both my hands in his and squeezes them. “He’s sending us to check it out.”
I peer around him toward the door, expecting Azarius to follow.
“Where’s Az?”
“Already gone. Don’t worry. This isn’t the first time they’ve gotten too close for comfort,” he tries to reassure me. “We’ll be back soon.”
I want to believe him, but my intuition argues. Something isn’t right, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Before I can voice my concerns, Elio pulls me into a heart-stopping kiss.
“Stay inside,” he says when he pulls away. “Just in case.”
I nod. “Be safe.”
He turns and heads toward the hallway, closing the door behind him, and I’m left alone again. This time, I’m overwhelmed by a nagging, intuitive feeling that something dark is coming.
As my anxiety skyrockets, I’m unable to sit still or even continue pacing. Elio told me not to go outside, but I need air. The next best option is the foyer, so I leave his room and head downstairs, hoping the change of scenery calms my nerves.
By the time I hit the bottom of the stairs, my breaths are coming faster. I close my eyes, trying to slow my racing heart, but panic has me firmly in its clutches. I bury my face in my hands, desperate for relief, and I choke back a sob.
This is it.
All the stress and anxiety from the last few weeks have finally caught up with me, and I’m losing it, having a full-on panic attack. The worst part is, there’s no one here to calm me down or make me feel better—Rafe sent them both off to check for the threat of invasion.
I take several deep breaths and wring my hands to make them stop shaking.
“Are you all right?”
I freeze. Rafe’s deep voice pierces straight through my chest and makes my heart jump into my throat. He’s standing in the doorway of the dining room, watching me sternly. Today he’s wearing a light gray suit with a white button-up and black polished shoes. All the gray makes him look like a gargoyle.
“I’m fine,” I say, but my labored breathing reveals my lie.
He steps forward, his shoes clicking against the marble floor, and stops a few feet away.
“You don’t look fine.”
“It’s not like you care,” I snap, turning away from him. “You’re probably disappointed that I’m not dead yet.”
A tense moment passes in which I expect him to turn around and return to the dining room, but he doesn’t. “Your beliefs are only the words you’ve put in my mouth. Don’t pretend you know what I’m thinking.”
Fuck.
On top of my panic attack, I now have this arrogant asshole to deal with.
“How silly of me,” I say, rolling my eyes while simultaneously feeling lightheaded. “The way you act couldn’t possibly convey your feelings.”
