Sauter (Ironside Academy, #3)(17)
“They removed him from Ironside for a little while,” Niko answered, his tone casual but his eyes guarded. “Just to make sure he didn’t know anything about Aron’s involvement in the Vermont attack.”
The Vermont attack. It was the first time anyone had said those words to her since the night of their disastrous dinner. Even Teak and Charlie were careful to skirt around the topic during their sessions, since Isobel had declared that she didn’t want to talk about it. Hearing it mentioned so casually was like a physical kick to the stomach. The air whooshed out of her, and she winced.
The chain around her wrist warmed, constricting tightly. She jumped a few inches, staring down at it. It had been acting up lately—warming or buzzing when her emotions went haywire—but never anything like this.
It vibrated so hard it looked like it was moving.
No … it was moving.
It uncoiled like it was stiff from holding its shape for so long, stretching out languidly before darting up her arm, the metal warm and smooth against her skin. She shrieked, but Niko quickly snatched her wrist before she could pull it off.
“Don’t ever mess with a soul artefact,” he whispered, his eyes hard as the chain snuck beneath the sleeve of her shirt and crawled across the centre of her chest, dipping into her cleavage. It grew prickly, like the links were sprouting little metallic caterpillar legs, and Niko gripped her other hand when it tried to fly up to her chest. The chain settled along her sternum and then it pinched in, those little metallic legs piercing her skin.
Niko swore, his expression torn as she yelped.
“What the fuck is it doing?” he groused, his usually controlled tone unsteady.
A shrill ring sounded through the room. At first, she thought it was a phone, but then she realised it was echoing all around her. An alarm.
“I d-don’t know,” she stuttered, as Niko’s eyes flashed with unease, his grip on her tightening to the point of pain. “What’s that alarm? I’ve never heard it before.”
“What alarm?” he asked, as the sound dwindled into something softer, almost like a twinkle.
He released her wrists and her hands immediately tunnelled into her shirt, her fingertips coming away wet with blood.
“It’s embedded itself into my skin,” she breathed out unsteadily. “But it’s … finished. I think.”
She gripped Niko’s forearm, using him to keep herself upright as a small whine of pain slipped from between her lips. The chain felt alive again, like it had been resting up and healing right alongside her these past few weeks, but now it desperately wanted to be a part of her again.
Niko pulled her out of the ring without warning, tugging her in the direction of the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” The statement was tight-lipped, his voice rigid with restraint.
As soon as they passed through the door, he suddenly changed, his touch gentling, his eyes sparking with frantic energy.
“It’s glowing,” he hissed, pushing her up against the counter, his body tight behind hers.
They both stared into the mirror at the subtle light peeking through her shirt, and she pulled down the neckline with shaking fingers, staring at the links nestled into her cleavage.
It was thinner than before, the most delicate gold chain spouting little beads of blood that had smudged against her skin. She leaned forward, entranced, the pain falling away as that tinkling sound turned into a warm, happy hum before fading away into nothing. She could make out the tiny links arching from the chain to the skin on either side: little metallic hooks to secure the jewellery in place.
The brighter it glowed, the less it hurt, until the wounds from those little hooks were completely healed. Niko was breathing hard against the top of her head, his hands braced either side of her, gripping the counter tightly.
“Are you okay?” she asked him, watching his face warily.
He twitched, his gaze sweeping up to hers in the mirror.
His energy was off.
His usual warm and inviting whiskey scent was curdling, bubbling, and boiling until he smelled more like gasoline, the green sinking out of his eyes until the more dusky, tawny hue took over, darkening his entire expression.
“Dammit.” The word was spoken through his teeth, more a hiss than anything else. “Give me a minute, Sigma.” His voice sounded completely different.
A sense of danger skittered across her skin, his power suddenly swelling into the room like an ominous cloud, closing in against her mind like a metal compress. Her breath turned shallow, her thoughts tripping over themselves. It was eerily similar to what had happened to Sato in the hotel room in Nevada, and just like that time, her mind snapped back to her father.
To when he would lose control.
Sato hadn’t acted like her father, but faced with that dangerous roll of influence again, Isobel’s mind was suddenly blank, filled with the trauma of her childhood. There was no room for her to kneel on the ground, to stretch out her back for her father’s belt, to turn her head to the side against the ground where the carpet fibres would tickle her nostrils.
And she was too scared to reach for her phone, to call Reed.
She let out a low sound of distress, turning around with her shirt still tugged down to show him that she was fine. She wasn’t bleeding any more. It was instinctual, and it seemed to work. Niko’s eyes narrowed in on her pale skin. His hands switched from the counter to her hips, drawing her up onto her toes. It didn’t seem to be enough because he pulled her up further, higher and higher.