Markings (16 page)

Chapter 18: Confessions

T
here had only been a few times in my life when I felt like this, when I was dead tired. It happened once when I was twelve and I’d been incredibly ill with some rare type of stomach flu, then again when I pulled an all-nighter at Kat’s house and we’d been hyped up on caffeine and Halloween candy.

Both of those incidents seemed insignificant, nothing compared to how tired I felt now.

I groaned, forcing my eyelids to peel back. My vision blurred then focused on wood pleats across from me: a closet.
That’s not my closet.
The walls that surrounded it—soft green in color with a white ceiling—didn’t belong to me, either, nor did the series of candles flickering on the nightstand nearby.

I laid under sheets with card symbols printed on them, spades and diamonds and hearts. A pillow crinkled as I turned my head, its black pillowcase reeking of spicy cologne and old nachos.

Where am I?
I tried to remember, thinking I had to be with either Kat or Mom, but I came up empty.
Wait.
Kat and I were still fighting—I would remember if we made up. Mom . . . I could see The Golden Fox, remembered the scent of Kahlúa that had been spilled in the bar. And then I was in my room with a letter . . .

I groaned.
That’s right, Dad’s letter.
Which made me so mad, I’d left the house.

I went to throw my legs off the bed. A fire seemed to ignite inside my skin. The pain shot up my legs through my spine and shoulders. I let out a horrid, pained noise before crippling over. I landed on the cold wood floor, blankets wadded around my hips. I snarled.
Damn, that hurt.
Everything hurt.

Footsteps echoed outside the door. Gritting my teeth, I turned my head, staring under the bed. Someone was here with me.
What if it’s the Keftey?
I shivered. I’d been in the woods alone . . . a perfect opportunity for them.

A shadow stopped outside the door. A door handle creaked as it rotated. Two large, tan feet appeared on the other side of the bed.

“What the—
Lina.
”

I recognized that voice, the irritated tone. Closing my eyes, I tried to summon a picture of the face to match, but thanks to the fall my brain felt fuzzier than before.

A pair of hot hands curled around my upper arms. I squealed, jerking away.

“Shhh. Hey stop it, it’s me.” The hands turned me over on the floor.

Lying on my back, I looked up into those ocean-colored eyes, both rimmed with gold and set into a freckled face. “Aaron,” I breathed, not hiding how glad I was to see him and not the Keftey.

He curled his arms around me and the blankets. My nails dug into his t-shirt, the pain surging as he peeled me off the floor. I kept waiting to see flames burst through my skin. Aaron laid me on the mattress. As he tried to pull away, my fingers stayed knotted in his shirt, afraid of more fire should they let go . . . and, okay, I didn’t want to let go.

He bit his lower lip, like it might stop him from blushing. He gently pried my fingers loose.

That’s when I saw them: thin, fuzzy patches covered both my hands. Black spots took over my wrists and forearms, all the way to my elbows. I gasped, pulling my hands from him. Ignoring the lava in my veins, I forced myself into a sitting position.

“Lina—hey, stop,” Aaron warned. “Don’t! You’re going to make it worse.”

My eyes widened as I stared down at myself. I wasn’t sure which was more horrific: the fact my shirt was gone, leaving my black bra in clear view, or that from my left hip to just below my right breast, spots sheathed my body.

I whimpered, holding my hands in front of my face, turning them this way and that. “I’m
covered
!”

“Of course you’re covered. You can’t do something like what you did and not be.” Aaron reached out, pushing my arms back to my sides. “I leave for five minutes, and you decide to go for a run in the woods. Five minutes, and
poof.
You’re gone! What the hell, Lina.”

“What are you talking about? And where are my clothes?” I hitched up the blankets and peeked underneath. Just as I suspected: I was in my underwear. And because I’d originally been in yoga pants, they were the tight, slim-cut kind. And more spots!

The blush in Aaron’s cheeks crept towards his neck. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact.

“You took my
clothes
?” I snarled. “Aaron!”

“Come on, they were soaking wet! You were drenched, your pants covered in mud. What was I supposed to do? Let you get hypothermia? I don’t think so.”

I slapped my hands over my eyes. This was so embarrassing. Forget the fact that luckily I shaved this morning; I hadn’t been tanning for over a year. My skin was nearly translucent, and I still had those few extra pounds clinging to my thighs from Christmas.

Warmth pressed against the backs of my hands. Aaron pulled them away from my face, but didn’t let go. His eyes trailed over my palms, admiring the markings that claimed my skin. His thumbs brushed the sides of my wrists, the fur moving under his touch. They itched, just like the ones on my shoulders had.

“What were you thinking?” His voice was distant, like he was asking both of us.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands. “I was thinking,” I started. “That I needed to let off some steam. I opened a birthday gift from my dad. It came a while ago, but I didn’t want to touch it. There were letters inside. Well, maybe other stuff, but I didn’t even finish the first one, so I didn’t look . . . He confessed to why I never knew my grandparents. They’re all Shifters.”

Aaron’s eyebrows lifted then he took his gaze to the window beside us. Rain pelted the bushes outside the glass, made clinking sounds as it hit the roof.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“We are . . .” He hesitated. “At my parents’ house.”

“Your parents’?” My stomach squeezed. Did he know Trinity told me about them, too?

“Before their deaths, this was where we lived.” His mouth turned up at the corners as he added, “This was my old room.”

“Oh.”
That means you’re sleeping under his sheets, on his pillows . . . in his bed.
I’d never slept in a boy’s bed before. “I wondered why it smelled like nachos.”

He chuckled, giving me that flawless smile before squeezing my fingers. “Yeah. We’re about seven miles from Fisher’s Creek.”

“
Seven miles?
” I exclaimed. Had I really ran that far? “My mother is going to kill me!”

His smile flattened all of a sudden. “You don’t need your mom to do that—you nearly killed yourself.” He let go of my hands. “I’ve never met someone who actually tried to
force
the shift to happen. It took me forever to catch up to you, and I was on four legs! Do you realize how many things could’ve gone wrong?”

“I wasn’t trying to force anything. I just wanted to run.” Just saying the word brought on the craving again. I could barely move and I was so tired, yet some part of me said,
go, go, go.

Aaron ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, staring at me. His jaw went stiff, eyes tight. Just like they had been the last time we’d seen each other.

I shivered with the memory. “Please stop acting like you’re going to harpoon me.” I couldn’t stand to see him angry and upset again.

Aaron took a breath, closing his eyes. “I’m not mad at you.” He sounded sincere, calm. “I got over being mad at you when Penny told me you quit the shelter . . . and the way you looked when you came home.”

“What are you talking about? When were you at my house?”

He smirked. “We’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on you since the Mt. Hood incident. We usually take shifts, like Tom while you’re at school, then me and Trinity after you leave the shelter.”

“You’ve all been spying on me? I can’t believe you. I usually feel when people are watching or nearby. How did you do it?”

“Psh! Come on, Lina, we’re
wildcats
. We’re masters at blending with the environment. Plus, you live out in the woods. There are plenty of places to hide.” A mischievous grin crossed his face as he added, “Though I prefer the roof. The spot near your bedroom window is pretty nice.”

My eyes narrowed to slits. “Is this the first time you’ve seen me clothes-less? Please note that if you want to keep your eyeballs in your skull, you’d
better
say no.” While I usually get dressed in the bathroom after a shower, it wasn’t unlike me to tromp around the house in my underwear in the evenings.

He pursed his lips. “So anyway.” He rotated back towards me. “You might remember on the field the other day when Jace and I got into a little argument.”

“No, I totally don’t remember,” I snarked, rolling my eyes.

He snorted. “You and me, we made a deal that you wouldn’t bring up my ex, and I wouldn’t bug you about your dreams. Since that deal is clearly off, I want to know what you saw that day you passed out in the pinelands.”

“Um.” I hesitated. “Listen, Aaron, I’m really, really sorry about what happened in the office—”

“I know that,” he interrupted. “I know you didn’t mean to, but that isn’t going to get you out of this. What did you see?”

I sighed. “I’ve been having strange dreams for a while now. That day in the pinelands, when the deer came stampeding in front of the jeep, Trinity said there was nothing there that could’ve scared them, but I felt . . . sort of funny. And I smelled blood. I knew something was there.”

I went on to tell him about how I got dizzy on the hill, so I went to lean on the tree closest to me. I told him about the lotus tree’s pale, smooth bark and its branches that were covered in lotus blossoms, how each petal as it fell turned into a drop of blood, and the voice whispering in my ear.

By the time I finished, Aaron’s chin was leaning into his palm, his eyebrows up under his bangs. “Wow,” he said, straightening up.

“I know, you think I’m psycho,” I said. “But it was so real.”

“You’re not psycho. Listen.” He leaned towards me, lowering his voice. “The lotus is a type of water-dwelling flower. They are an Egyptian plant spotted in the Nile and often spoken of in Egyptian folktales. They were said to have been a common decoration in Bastet’s palace thousands of years ago.”

“Bastet,” I echoed. “You don’t think it’s some kind of warning, do you?” Not that I was totally sure I believed in the cat goddess, much less thought it possible for her to infiltrate my mind. Then again, I was a Shifter, so what the hay?

“I think”—Aaron’s tongue ran along his bottom lip—“that I want to hear what else you’ve been dreaming about. You said this has been going on for a while?”

I nodded. “I dreamt of the clearing right before going to Mt. Hood. There was a yellow-eyed beast in the shadows, and you were there towards the end. I’ve had some random other ones about woods and monsters, but nothing real memorable.” I didn’t tell him my latest dream. I blushed, remembering that kiss with him, how he turned into Cain at the end.

Aaron sat still as a statue, gears turning in his head while he stared into space.

“What?” I whispered.

“You really need to see Raja,” he said. “I don’t know much about the whole Alpha thing outside Jinalo, but there were rumors that the alpha before him had a type of second sight.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but if it is . . . maybe you two are related.”

I tensed. “Please don’t say that. I hate my dad enough for hiding his being-a-Shifter thing from me.” I would hate him even more if he not only kept the fact that Shifters ran in our family, but that the genes for
Alpha
Shifters ran in the family, too.

Aaron gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

A tingly sensation went down my legs as my hands fell to my lap. I dug my nails into my thighs, but the itching only grew worse. “I don’t suppose you have something to kill the itch for these stupid things do you?”

“As a matter of fact . . .” He disappeared out the door, then came back a moment later with a small, plastic jar. Gold Bond?

Crawling onto the bed, Aaron sat near my feet. “Give me a leg.”

“Uh, excuse me?” I nearly laughed. Oh, he was going to do it
for
me? “What? Am I incapable of putting lotion on myself?”

He lifted an eyebrow, holding the jar out at arm’s length. “Reach for it.”

I snorted. “All right, whatever.” I pushed myself onto my elbows. My spine had barely begun to curl into an upward position when the fire returned. My lungs closed up. I collapsed onto my back, coughing into the sheets.

Aaron smirked, withdrawing the jar. “You’re cute when you think you’re right and I’m wrong. This is what happens when you try to shift before you’re supposed to.” He leaned over the bed and flipped the sheets up. I flipped them back down. He blinked at me. “Come on, now is not the time to be shy.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m fat.”

“Oh, what the hell ever.”

“I’m whiter than Snow White.”

“Lina, there is nothing wrong with you. Now come on.”

I moaned then pushed the sheets aside. He uncapped the yellow jar. A pungent, sour smell wafted from the contents, which were not smooth and cream-colored like most lotions. Ranging in shades of green, the gritty mix had a consistency like guacamole.

My nose twitched. “Should I even ask what that is?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all plant-based,” he said, scooping a glob onto his fingers. “My mom was into science and cosmetology, always looking for the next best thing. She jumped at the opportunity to come up with something for ‘Shifter Itch’. So far her stuff has worked better than anything you buy at the store.”

I jumped as he smeared the glob across my calf. “That’s cold.”

“Sorry, it’ll warm up in a minute.” He pressed his palms to my skin. They were warm, eliminating the chill.

I watched as he took his time gently rubbing the remedy on, never pressing too hard. My muscles tensed now and then, aware of the unfamiliar touch. I got self-conscious when it came to people putting their hands on me. I’d turned down numerous massages with Mom because her therapist was this life-size Ken doll who flirted with all his assistants. So I was somewhere in between thinking this was really awkward and really sweet what Aaron was doing.