She nodded.
“Through touch?” he asked.
“Yes. Normally. But I didn’t touch anything just then,” she argued, the panic crushing in on her. Even her wolf was unsettled. “I couldn’t see or hear beyond the noise. The room was moving.”
“What noise? What did you hear?” he asked.
“Voices. Sounds. A crowded room.” She gripped her head in her hands, pressing. “It hurt.”
“How does it normally work?” he asked.
“I touch them—read them, their thoughts and memories, experiences and conversations.” She looked at him, almost nervous. Only Cyrus knew. It was one of the reasons she was still alive. How would her revelation impact Hollis?
“People only?” he asked. “Never an object?”
She shook her head. “Objects, yes. Personal items—handmade or…or a journal. An object that has captured the essence of a person. A book. A knife. Important to a person or ritual. Magical items. I’ve dreamed of others. A necklace once. It was important to me.”
He sat back, still studying her. “The items in that room? They’re speaking to you.”
She stared at him, far too unsettled for her liking. “That’s never happened before. I have to touch and concentrate. This…this was too much.” Her stomach churned, a powerful thud setting in at the base of her skull. What would she find in that room? Did she want to know? “I…I want to leave.”
“You could help me understand things I’ve been researching for years,” he murmured. “Things beyond science. Things that could help the pack.”
“The pack? Or your cure?” She sat back in her chair, mimicking his posture.
He blew out a slow breath. “One doesn’t forgo the other.”
“I won’t help you eradicate what I am.” Exhaustion made arguing pointless. “I can’t go back in that room.”
“I could bring items to you—one at a time?” he asked. “You want to know what happened just now, what it means.”
“Do I?”
He nodded and pushed out of his chair. He returned seconds later, her water glass refilled. “Tell me about the necklace. Who did it belong to?”
She took a sip, her gaze falling from his. “My pack. The women of my pack. It was a record of our lineage, a badge of pride, really.” She smiled. “A bead for each child birthed. We were a mighty pack.” She ran her fingers along the invisible necklace, remembering the weight and texture of each stone. “Faces, names, fragments of time. Lost to me now.” Smiling children. Tiny babies. Her baby. Her heart twisted sharply. “The necklace—and the memories. So faint now.” She would never forget her daughter. Never.
“What happened to your pack?” he asked.
“That’s when this happened.” She pressed a hand against her scar. “I can’t know for sure, but Cyrus was there.” Her finger traced the rim of the cup. “He’s taken everything that mattered from me. Everything.” She welcomed the fury, preferring the familiar heat. Whatever was in that room was powerful, drowning her in unease. The glass in her hands trembled.
Hollis took the cup from her and placed it on the desk. He cradled her hands in his. Staring at them with such intensity, Ellen held her breath.
“I have questions I want to ask you,” he murmured. “So many things I want to know.” His green gaze met hers. “But I don’t want to cause you pain.”
She swallowed back the hostile retort that instantly sprang to her lips. It was a survival skill—deflect and minimize. But this was Hollis. His concern was sincere. And knowing that, seeing that, had a powerful effect on her. Her hands itched to touch him, to read his thoughts for more. He was so like her, so guarded and wary. Opening up wasn’t easy for either of them.
Still, she needed to try. Her wolf needed it. “I’m used to pain, Hollis. It’s kept me alive for so long I wouldn’t know how to exist without it.”
His brow furrowed. “That’s not living.” His hands tightened around hers. “You’ve seen things, know things, I never will. Dark things. Evil things.” He cleared his throat. “That is why I refuse to accept this world. Help me to understand why preserving this life is so important to you.” There was an edge to his words. Desperation. Anger. The promise of so much more.
The longer his green gaze locked with hers, the harder it was to breathe. “Why, Hollis? What difference does it make to you?”
Chapter Twelve
He forced the words out. “Maybe you’re right,” he ground out. “About a wolf.” He cleared his throat. “Having a wolf.” It was the only way to explain what was happening to him. Too many times his control had slipped away from him—with her. This was the only thing that made sense. That what was happening between them made sense. And it scared the shit out of him.
She searched his face. “And you want to unders