Tucked inside a warm, soft bed, Nessa rolled onto her side and clutched a pillow to her chest.
She was back at Excelsior.
She’d been at the school for three days—something she hadn’t had much choice in. During the fight in Chicago, she’d collapsed. If it wasn’t for Malachi, she would have died there. Part of her couldn’t quite manage to be glad for that fact.
Not just yet. Maybe not ever.
Outside her rooms, she could hear the low murmur of voices, sense the rush of life. Her shields were shot, and everything just felt too intense. She couldn’t block a soul out to save her life.
She was far too weak, far too vulnerable just yet.
Closing her eyes, she reached up and touched the smooth skin where she’d been bitten. Kelsey had healed her, good and fast, but Nessa didn’t remember. According to the other witch, she’d spent the first forty-eight hours unconscious.
She’d woken in this room to find herself healed, bathed and dressed in a long, cotton nightshirt. It resembled the chemises she’d worn for much of her life, gathered at the neck and hanging to her ankles. The first thing she’d done when she woke up was tear the damn thing away.
She’d made the mistake of looking at the mirror and it had been like being flung back into time.
It was an ugly, awful irony that Morgan’s former body bore a striking resemblance to Nessa’s. The shape of the eyes were a bit different, and her hair was blond now rather than brown, but the differences were so slight they could have been sisters—nearly twins.
Seeing herself in that chemise and wearing a face that looked far too much like the one from her youth had been too much.
Now she had echoes of Elias’s voice in her mind, the low, rough sound of his laughter, the heated whispers in her ear as he made love to her. The tormented, awful rasp of his voice as he lay dying in her arms.
My Nessa . . .
Only God Himself could keep me from you.
Pain wrapped around her heart and squeezed. It poisoned her, darkened everything and stole the breath from her lungs.
Closing her eyes, she buried her face against the pillow and whispered, “Please, just let me rest. Please . . .”
June 7
You can also read the prologue and chapter one…
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