Tobias #2
“It’s easier than it sounds,” Quinn replied, her amber eyes lighting up in a way that made my heart pound.
It was impossible not to get swept up in her excitement.
“A lot of simple, everyday magic in this realm is imbued, like a hairdryer using air magic. The imbued power basically creates a magical battery. Most medicine used in this realm or ‘cures’ are essentially antivirals anyway—they work indirectly by strengthening the body’s immune response to fight off the virus. ”
“I don’t understand why the magic alone isn’t enough,” I said before quickly backtracking. “Not that I don’t think that your magic, what you’re doing isn’t…”
Quinn laughed as my words tripped over each other. “I know what you mean. I wish it were as easy as knitting together a wound, or willing it to stop attacking her. But this virus was purposely created to block healing magic from working—so we have to attack it from the inside out.”
The last few words were said mid-yawn, and I found it was contagious as I covered my own.
“I was hoping the fever was a sign of the magic of the land burning the virus away for us,” I admitted, thinking back to the blur of terror after realizing Eva’s newfound magic wouldn’t be able to save her. “It makes sense that with the magic-blocking element, you need to fight the virus directly.”
Quinn nodded sleepily. “Heat can kill viruses. That’s exactly why the body’s natural response is to raise its temperature.
But the effectiveness depends on the virus, the duration, and how hot you can get without killing the host along with it.
In this case, for it to succeed, the temperature needed would also boil Eva’s blood. ”
I winced. “How lucky we have options then.”
My eyelids were getting heavy, but I fought to keep my eyes open so that I could memorize this moment—the way her curls fell perfectly around her heart-shaped face, the glow of her light brown skin in the low light, the soft, open look in her eyes. She yawned again, and again I echoed it.
If she wasn’t going to mention the late hour or the need to return to her own bed, I wasn’t going to say anything that might scare her away. Though the sweet torture of my sheets smelling like her when she left might be the death of me.
“So, this magical antiviral…” I prodded, eager to keep her here. “I assume you’ll need to test it?”
“Mmhmm,” Quinn murmured. “We’ll run initial trials on Eva’s blood, but before I give it to her, I want to be sure it won’t have any adverse reactions…”
My eyes closed, just for a moment, as I let her voice wash over me. Her exhaustion seeped into every elongated vowel as I blinked again, slower this time.
The soft smile on her face was the last thing I saw before I succumbed to sleep.
?
The morning light always felt like a breath of relief. It meant I had survived the night.
I blinked blearily, feeling strangely peaceful. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept until sunrise…let alone the last time I hadn’t jerked awake from a nightmare. Yet for some reason, I had managed to do both last night.
The warm weight on top of me let out a soft sigh.
I went still as the sudden realization swept over me—of where I was, and more importantly, who was still with me.
Not only had I fallen asleep with Quinn in my bed, but she had stayed—and was now sprawled across me.
Her face pressed against my chest, her breath warm against my bare skin.
That green robe had fallen down her arms in the night, her shoulders now bare except for two thin straps.
One leg draped across my hips, her thigh dangerously close to the rigid part of me that had obviously noticed her nearness before I did. My arms were securely wrapped around her, holding her against me like I was guarding something sacred.
I needed to try to extricate myself before she woke. Instead, I found myself unable to do anything but breathe her in. The bright, floral scent of her made every cell in my body relax into a sense of calm I barely recognized. No wonder I had been able to sleep for once.
The gentle cadence of her breathing matched my own. For one achingly perfect minute, I let myself treasure this stolen moment, my fingers gently flexing against her skin to make sure this wasn’t a dream.
Gods, I wanted her.
Just once, I allowed myself to admit it.
I wanted her so desperately I wondered how it was possible she couldn’t see it in my eyes—couldn’t feel it radiating out of my soul.
But no matter how natural this felt, how instinctively my heart reached for her, the person that might have been worthy of her died in that cell.
It didn’t matter what I wanted. What mattered was what she needed—and it could never be me.
Gathering my composure, I loosened my hold just slightly, shifting so her leg slipped down my thigh—
“Tobias?”
Quinn’s voice was groggy, and more than a little confused. I stifled a groan as she stretched, her hips swiveling against my side.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” I said quickly. “I just closed my eyes for a second…”
Quinn laughed under her breath. “I mean, I’m the one who’s on you.”
The sound of her laugh left me winded. I was almost jealous of how nonchalant she was; her complete lack of awkwardness that we had accidentally spent the night together.
For an endless heartbeat we stayed as we were—with her smiling up at me as I held her in my arms. Then I let my hands fall down to the bed. Quinn pulled away a second later.
I hated the way her expression turned troubled, like she was worried she was the one who crossed a line. That my abruptness had chased away that smile and turned it into hesitancy.
With a sigh, I pushed myself upright, leaning against the headboard like it might steady me. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, then paused, looking back at me over her shoulder. The sunlight framed her curls so angelically she didn’t seem real.
She was art, each strand of her hair outlined by brushstrokes in gold leaf as soft sunlight leaked past the blinds. Her lips alone were a masterpiece, her eyes a study in amber no painter could ever hope to replicate.
It took me a moment to realize that her mouth was moving.
“—so we’d better hurry up and get to the lab,” she was saying. “I can’t remember the last time I slept that well.”
“I can’t remember the last time I slept,” I muttered, too caught off guard to think through what I was saying.
Quinn cocked her head at me appraisingly. “Me neither.”
Her eyes were soft as she gave me one last lingering look. My mouth went dry, my throat closing. Before I could think of what to say, she had already disappeared through the door.
I ran my hand across the bedding where she had been, like a dream dissipating into the daylight. Her warmth faded away, leaving me with a profound sense of loss—though I knew it was the absence of something that had never been mine to lose.