A rustle in the foliage.
Frowning, Sara felt her skin itch. It made her think for a moment of her father. She wondered what eventual fate had befallen him, and was surprised to realize she didn’t care. She doubted she would ever see him again.
Even so, Sara had the crawling sensation that infectious bugs were burrowing all over her. She wished she could stop reaching for the power every time she sensed danger. She was grimly sure that her father had a lot to answer for.
Her frown deepened as she looked up at Nox. She realized, suddenly, that she wasn’t frightened of Nox. The kiss on her cheek he gave was melt-in-your-mouth and oh-so-delicious.
She was quite aware she was in all kinds of danger around two male channelers, but the fear refused to come. If anything, her pulse rate had dropped, and a terrible clarity settled upon her. She tried to remember the last time she’d felt real fear. Father had stolen that from her. Terror had been such a permanent fixture, around her at every moment, that the fear response had simply burnt out. So had everything else: desire, appetite, basic human traits like feelings. All she’d been left with was the simple, pure will to live. Were they also hardened by experience?
She hadn’t caught much of Nox’s whispered exchange, but she knew something spiky had just gone down. “Why take it? Pan won’t like you.” She pretended to search her dress pockets. “I don’t know. Should I shut up? But I can’t find my smokes.”
Sara