The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Thirteen

Heat burns where my bones and muscles meet.

It's deep, searing, traveling up and down my spine so quickly I struggle to gasp another breath before it's stolen again. Splayed across my bed, I lay in a pit of sweat and tears. Every bit of my body aches.

From the soreness in my joints to the weakness in my fingers and up to the piercing throb echoing through my brain. It's less than what assaulted me earlier, but more than I care to bear. Swallowing, I sink my fingers into my silk sheets, hoping to grasp reality.

The coolness of the sheets sends a tendril of relaxation up my spine and I shiver, basking in it. Sucking in a deep breath, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and force my eyes open. Dim light dances across my vision, blurring before it clears and I feast my eyes on the figure lording over the bottom of my bed.

Gatlin.

Fuck.

His head tips to the side, and his sapphire eyes are narrow and focusing directly on me. He's changed clothes, wearing a simple soft, beige sweater with jeans. Despite the frown marring his face, he looks handsome and well put together.

"You're awake."

My tongue is like sandpaper to the roof of my mouth, but it doesn't stop a sarcastic response from leaving my lips. "You can see? I had no idea!"

His frown deepens, taking over his entire face. Lines pull between his eyebrows and his forehead wrinkles. "Sarcasm? You just woke up from some sort of..." he pauses, waving his hand around, "episode."

"Why, thank you, Gatlin. I didn't know I'd fallen out or had an... what was it you called it—ah, yes—an episode."

"Giving me attitude because you had an issue is not the way to go, especially after what I saw."

My throat closes up and I pause, studying him. "What did you see, Gatlin? Me having a malfunction?"

"For starters," he shrugs, "but I saw something else, too?"

Quickly, I throw my legs over the side of the bed as I sit up. The world spins and my eyes roll back. It takes all I have to remain upright, legs dangling over the side of the bed, barefoot.

Chris moves to stand next to me, concern lining his features. His hand reaches out toward me, but it stops halfway between us briefly before he drops it. His knuckles pop as he fists his hand until they bleed white and his veins lift from beneath the skin.

"How are you feeling?"

Curiously, I glare at his fisted hand. "I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

My lips seal shut and I roll them inward, flattening them completely. When our gazes clash, his softens slightly, but I can't give him what he wants. I'm frightened to say what I feel, what I think—what I really want.

There's something wrong.

I don't know what and I don't have any idea where to look. Static hisses in the back of my mind, railroading through my thoughts and taking over my mind. A need wriggles inside, insidiously slipping sloppily into the cracks and consuming everything in its path. Afraid he'll see right into my soul, I break the staring contest.

I'm torn. Stuck halfway up a wall where the truth dangles off the precipice and the fear of the unknown rests at the bottom. How can I admit what I'm afraid is happening? Sighing, I bounce my right leg and tap my fingers in rhythm, intentionally keeping my gaze from his.

"You can tell me what's wrong, Blue." His deep voice does things to me it shouldn't. I shouldn't be thinking the things I think when he looks at me—when his cologne washes over me like a flood. "You can trust me."