7
DRAYNOR
I feel the shift in my own bones; I can see it in her face, too — the angst — quivering like a mirage as it vanishes into the mist. Tension … then release. The panic in her irises shimmers into oblivion in the split second before her eyelids slip closed.
There is a lot of pain in her; I can feel that much. Both new fear and old, the tightness of uncertainty, and the horrid, hollow emptiness of grief — that pain aches like a bruise in her chest. I rest my hands on her bare rib cage, relishing the sticky heat of her flesh — so small beneath my palms. She always feels so small, but I know better than most the fire that exists within her.
And there it is — the pain. I inhale, my breath, my fingers, all of me drawing the energy from her — taking that pain from her. It prickles aga
