“Something’s wrong,” he says again, but distantly, like he might be talking to someone else. “Her energy is different. Tainted.”
The sound of his voice coils through me, spirals around my spine. I feel myself straighten even as I feel strange, jet-lagged, like I’ve traveled through time. I pull myself into a seated position and Warner shifts to accommodate me. I’m tired and weak from hunger, but other than a few general aches, I seem to be fine. I’m alive. I’m breathing and blinking and feeling human and I know exactly why.
I meet his eyes. “You saved my life.”
He tilts his head at me.
He’s still studying me, his gaze so intense I flush, confused, and turn away. The moment I do, I nearly jump out of my skin. Castle and Kenji and Winston and Brendan and a ton of other people I don’t recognize are all staring at me, at Warner’s hands on me, and I’m suddenly so mortified I don’t even know what to do with myself.
“Hey, princess.” Kenji waves. “You okay?”
I try to stand and Warner tries to help me and the moment his skin brushes mine another sudden, destabilizing bolt of feeling runs me over. I stumble, sideways, into his arms and he pulls me in, his heat setting fire to my body all over again. I’m trembling, heart pounding, nervous pleasure pulsing through me.
I don’t understand.
I’m overcome by a sudden, inexplicable need to touch him, to press my skin against his skin until the friction sets fire to us both. Because there’s something about him—there’s always been something about him that’s intrigued me and I don’t understand it. I pull away, startled by the intensity of my own thoughts, but his fingers catch me under the chin. He tilts my face toward him.
I look up.
His eyes are such a strange shade of green: bright, crystal clear, piercing in the most alarming way. His hair is thick, the richest slice of gold. Everything about him is meticulous. Pristine. His breath is cool and fresh. I can feel it on my face.
My eyes close automatically. I breathe him in, feeling suddenly giddy. A bubble of laughter escapes my lips.
“Something’s definitely wrong,” someone says.
“Yeah, she doesn’t look like she’s okay.” Someone else.
“Oh, okay, so we’re all just saying really obvious things out loud? Is that what we’re doing?” Kenji.
Warner says nothing. I feel his arms tighten around me and my eyes flicker open. His gaze is fixed on mine, his eyes green flames that will not extinguish and his chest is rising and falling so fast, so fast, so fast. His lips are there, right there above mine.
“Ella?” he whispers.
I frown.
My eyes flick up, to his eyes, then down, to his lips.
“Love, do you hear me?”
When I don’t answer, his face changes.
“Juliette,” he says softly, “can you hear me?”
I blink at him. I blink and blink and blink at him and find I’m still fascinated by his eyes. Such a startling shade of green.
“We’re going to need everyone to clear the room,” someone says suddenly. Loudly. “We need to begin running tests immediately.”
The girls, I realize. It’s the girls. They’re here. They’re trying to get him away from me, trying to get him to break away from me. But Warner’s arms are like steel bands around my body.
He refuses.
“Not yet,” he says urgently. “Not just yet.”
And for some reason they listen.
Maybe they see something in him, see something in his face, in his features. Maybe they see what I see from this disjointed, foggy perspective. The desperation in his expression, the anguish carved into his features, the way he looks at me, like he might die if I do.
Tentatively, I reach up, touch my fingers to his face. His skin is smooth and cold. Porcelain. He doesn’t seem real.
“What’s wrong?” I say. “What happened?”
Impossibly, Warner goes paler. He shakes his head and presses his face to my cheek. “Please,” he whispers. “Come back to me, love.”
“Aaron?”
I hear the small hitch in his breath. The hesitation. It’s the first time I’ve used his name so casually.
“Yes?”
“I want you to know,” I tell him, “that I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“What?” He startles.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I say. “And I don’t think you’re a psychopath. I don’t think you’re a heartless murderer. I don’t care what anyone else says about you. I think you’re a good person.”