Forever The World of Nightwalkers - By Jacquelyn Frank Page 0,41

well stung him. It sucked in every major way. That wasn’t to say that the prospect of the new life awaiting him wasn’t something he could get excited about, it was just … it was just mourning the loss of that which had once made him content and comfortable.

“Come on, Jackson. Let’s get this guy some kibble and a soft bed,” Marissa said, reaching to lay her hand on his back, pushing him forward. She didn’t have to ask or urge twice. They both knew what was about to happen and how crucial it was that it didn’t happen in front of witnesses.

But what burned, what really chafed him …

She would be protecting him when, in truth, she was going to need him to protect her. As they broke from the tree line and made their way quickly to Jackson’s car he made the barest of excuses before getting dog and doctor into the car and getting the car on the road. The sun broke about five minutes later and Jackson slammed on the brakes, his entire body clenching with spasms of rigidity.

“You can’t bring me to my house,” he rasped as he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her bodily into the driver’s seat. He left the seat as he put her into it, getting out and stumbling around to the other side of the car. “Or yours. Somewhere else,” he ground out. God almighty this was painful, he realized with no little shock. He hadn’t realized it would actually hurt. “Darkness. I need the dark in order to move. You aren’t going to be able to manage my weight so you need to get me into the dark in order to get me out of the car.”

“Jackson,” she said, reaching to grip him by the wrist, making him look into her eyes. “Trust me. I understand and I will keep us both safe.”

He laughed a little painfully. “Marissa, I don’t doubt that in the least. I just … I’m just trying to remind you things have changed. I’ve changed things for you.”

“I know.”

“And I’m damn sorry for that,” he said tightly as she threw the car into gear and began to race them off of the mountain.

“I know that, too,” she assured him. “Stop fighting it. I see how much it’s hurting you. Please, Jackson, just trust me.”

She was right. The more he fought it the more em; line-height:1.4em; } div.toc_vg.it hurt. He exhaled and tried to relax, tried to let the stiffness wash over him unimpeded. The helplessness of his numbing body was terrifying. It crept over him as if he had stared Medusa in the eyes and was now turning to stone. He had once wondered how that must have felt for those heroes of myths, to have moving life bled out of them, snatched away, making them forever helpless. It terrified him that now he knew.

It was the most horrifying feeling in the world.

Ram sat up suddenly and sharply in bed, gasping for air as a sensation of absolute terror and agony whipped through his senses. Docia was asleep curled up against his warmth and strength, the darkness of their protected home keeping them safe from the bane of the sun. They had only just fallen asleep, after much flirtation and then, finally, a great deal of fervent lovemaking. Docia had proven lately to be … how had she put it? “A total horndog.” It was yet another amusing turn of phrase in his mate’s vast repertoire of colorful phrases.

Docia came awake more slowly than he had, her hand reaching for his back as she pushed up and laid her sleepy weight against him.

“What is it?” she mumbled into his skin.

He wished that he knew.

“Nothing. Lay down, sweet, and go back to sleep.”

“Mmmno,” she said. “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“A nightmare, I think,” he answered with a sigh.

“About?”

Menes. It had been about Menes. Or rather, Jackson, who was her brother. The absolute feeling that he was in grave danger was still clawing through his body. The problem was, Ram wasn’t exactly known for being clairvoyant. His power was command of the weather, the crash of thunder and the sear of lightning. The only prophetess in their house, or chantress as she was often called, was Cleo. Perhaps it had been a subconscious thing. As every day passed he’d grown more and more anxious about Jackson’s reluctance to take up Menes’s mantle of leadership, and even more so since Jackson had sent him