my neck, I stare up and wait.
He doesn’t move, so I reach out with my free hand, keeping Malcolm in place with the other.
His scales are cool to the chest. I want, with all my heart, to lay my head on his chest and feel him wrap his arms around me. I want him to hold me, tell me I’m forgiven, that everything is okay. He doesn’t move, except to drop his eyes to where my hand rests on his chest.
“Shidan, please,” I whisper. “Please come back to us.”
I can’t tell what’s happening with him. His eyes are so bloodshot, they’re almost all red. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move. I know, though, that he sees me. His brow furrows, then his mouth moves.
“Tre-as-ure,” he says, struggling to form the word.
“Yes!” I exclaim, heart leaping into my throat.
Tears streaming, I choke and raise my hand from his chest to his face. He leans forward. It’s only a slight motion, but it’s the first positive movement he’s made.
I hear Calista and Jolie coming up. Shidan straightens and growls. He wraps his arm around me and jerks me to his side. I’m so surprised, I almost drop Malcolm. Shidan glares at the women, and there’s a deep rumble in his chest.
“Stay back!” I yell.
They stop, both of them holding their hands up, palms facing us.
“Stay cool, Shidan, we’re here to help,” Calista says.
He doesn’t answer with words, but he does growl and takes a step backwards.
“Okay, big guy,” Calista says, making a patting motion with her hands.
Terror swells in my guts. I can’t let him steal me away too. That would defeat the entire point of coming out here. It’s clear that’s where this is heading. I have to put a stop to this entire mess, right now. I have to reach him, get him to fight his way out of the grips of his bijass.
After jerking myself free of his grip, I step around and in front of him. I raise my free hand and point my finger at him.
“That’s enough!” I yell. “Shidan, you come back to me right now. You’re not weak, you can fight this, and you damn well better!”
His eyes widen, his mouth drops open, but he stops growling. It’s all the encouragement I need to keep going.
“I’ve had enough. You’ve scared me, you are scaring me right now, and worse, you’re scaring Malcolm!”
“I’m not scared,” Malcolm says.
“Hush,” I snap. “Shidan, you listening to me?”
I move in closer, and he takes a step back. He shakes his head from side to side, his frown deepening.
“Come on now, fight this! You can do it!”
He grabs his head with both hands and roars, bending over then dropping to his knees. I stand over him waiting, almost daring to hope. When he looks up the intelligence is in his eyes, but there is something more written on his face. Fear.
He shudders, shakes his head again, then his mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He clenches his jaw, rubs his head, and tries again.
“Am-ara,” he says.
“Yes, love, it’s me,” I say.
He looks from me to Malcolm, then back again. He shakes his head. “Hard. Bijass.”
“I know love, I know,” I say, tears pouring down my face. “Come home. Please. Addison is going to find a cure. Come back.”
“Home,” he says, but he looks over his shoulder in the direction he was going.
“NO!” I yell, and he jerks his attention back. “That’s not home. Home in the City, with me, with Malcolm. Come home, Shidan.”
“Home?” he asks.
He’s fighting it. I can see the struggle on his face to hold onto himself.
“Yes,” I say, reaching my hand out towards him.
My hand hangs in the empty space between us, waiting. Hoping. I pray. I pray to anyone and everything. I need him. I need him more than air. I can’t live without him by my side. I can’t do this.
He places his hand in mine and squeezes. I sigh heavily then throw myself into his arms.
“Only Amara could win her man back by being a bitch,” Calista whispers behind me.
I don’t care. I am who I am, and while I’ll strive to be a better person, none of that matters, because Shidan loves me as I am.
16
AMARA
“Will it work?” I ask, biting my lip.
Addison looks up, and her eyes are sunken, bruised from the lack of sleep. Her skin is sallow and it’s obvious she’s doing all she can to keep it together.
“Yes,” she nods. “Or no.”
“Or no?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says.