From the crowds emerged a woman, her eyes dancing around as she looked for someone. In that moment, my heart danced in my chest at the sight of her. But it wasn’t my heart that raced. It was Damien’s.
She was dressed in the most intricate gown, different from the rest. Layers of flowing, dusty blue fabric pooled at her feet, and her bustier shined and glistened with gemstones and sequins. It split above her breast, stretching out into long draping sleeves before meeting again around her neck. Her delicate hands lifted the front of her gown as she ran toward me.
Her eyes were like pale aquamarine gemstones, skin like marble and just as smooth. Sections of her silvery-blonde hair were pulled back into complex braids, draping over the rest of the curls that reached past her hips. I knew her face immediately as she grew closer.
It was me… Or… it was me in a past life.
She smiled up at me, and she positively glowed. “Come on, Damien. You’ll not get out of gracing me with at least one dance this night.”
I heard Damien’s voice as we were dragged forward, a hint of humor on his tongue. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink, Princess.”
“Nonsense, you’ve had too little,” she chuckled, dragging him into the crowd.
I wanted to stay, wanted to see more, but I closed my eyes, satisfaction filling me as I released myself from Damien’s thoughts. To have been able to successfully navigate a memory; was all I’d wanted.
I opened my eyes to find myself sitting in the chair before Damien. The nausea had subsided. I was still breathing a little heavy, but aside from that, I felt fine.
“Were you successful?” Damien’s eyes danced between mine, nervous. “What did you see?”
“You were at some party. I saw… me, I think. I wanted a dance—” An almost electric jolt shot through me. I gripped onto his hand, my chest feeling tight, like my ribcage was caving in.
“Cassie?” Damien jumped to his feet, hands on me as he steadied me before I could fall from the chair.
I lurched over, my body convulsing as I coughed into my hand. The taste of metal filled my mouth as I coughed again. The warm liquid coated my hand, dripping down to the floor. Blood. I was coughing up blood.
“Fuck! You went too far!” He lifted me off the chair and ducked into the shadows of the room.
We appeared in the medical bay of The Complex. Johnson stood at his desk, writing notes.
Damien rushed me over to the bed. “Johnson! She’s coughing up blood! I think she suffered a recoil. I need you over here, now!” Johnson didn’t hesitate and was at my bedside with haste.
“I’m okay, Damien.” I winced, the coughing easing as he laid me down onto the bed. I sat up the second he set me down, trying to calm him.
“No, you’re not. I knew I should have stopped you.”
I wanted to fight him on it. “I was successful though. I’ll stop now. I just wanted—”
“From now on, we stop when I say so.”
I halted the words on my tongue and nodded, my eyes falling to the floor.
“I want her checked out. Make sure she’s okay,” Damien ordered, the doctor nodded and began looking me over. Damien hovered nearby; knuckles pressed to his lips as he did when he was upset. He watched Johnson intently.
Johnson handed me a damp cloth to wash my face and a cup of water. He pressed his stethoscope to my back. “Take a deep breath for me.”
I did, inhaling deeply, fighting the urge to wince at the familiar pain in my chest. It passed and I eased as I exhaled. He moved the stethoscope to my chest, listening. He stopped short, his eyes lifting to me, and the moment our eyes met, I knew his thoughts.
He knew…
I stared back at him. He was going to tell Damien. Please, anything but that.
Don’t say anything, please…
Johnson’s eyes went distant a moment, as if hearing my thoughts. He blinked, his brows knitting as if he’d awoken from some daydream.
“What did you find?” Damien asked.
Johnson lifted the stethoscope over his head to drape it across the back of his neck. “She sounds good, Lord Damien, and the bleeding seems to have stopped. I believe she may have popped a blood vessel pushing herself.”
