Lori Handeland - Marked by the Moon

He didn’t appear happy to let her go, but he nodded. “I’ll drag him back here; then you’ll feel fine.”

Alex didn’t think she’d ever feel fine again, but she did her best to smile before she went inside.

She barely made it to the bathroom before she tossed her cookies again. Too bad she didn’t have any cookies to toss. She’d never been a big fan of the dry heaves.

Ella came in behind her, leaning over and pulling Alex’s hair up and out of the way. Then she turned on the water in the sink. An instant later a cold cloth pressed onto the back of Alex’s neck. Nothing had ever felt so good.

“What’s going on?” Ella asked.

Alex flushed the toilet, stepped past Ella, who shuffled into the hall to give her room, then washed her face and rinsed with mouthwash. When her gaze met Ella’s in the mirror, the Frenchwoman arched a brow, and Alex told her everything.

“Mates,” Ella murmured. “Hmm.”

“That’s all you can say? I’m stuck here forever, unless I want to throw up until my insides are on my outside. Talk about a curse and a prison.”

“Calm yourself, mon amie. Is it so bad to have a man like Julian as your mate?”

In truth, Alex wasn’t that upset. She wondered if being sick until she had no sick left to be had put her in a state of shock—or perhaps just the news had.

“A love like that is not something that comes along every day.”

“It isn’t love,” Alex said, although what love was she couldn’t quite say.

“Are you sure?” Ella asked. “Didn’t you find it odd that you felt ill every time he went too far away? Considering that we don’t get ill?”

“I didn’t,” Alex said. “Until today.”

“Not even when he left you the first time, after he made you?”

It appeared that Ella not only knew the truth about Alex, but the truth about every damn thing.

“He left you when we are like babies, and we should never be left.” From Ella’s expression she wished Julian were there right now so she could kick him. Alex wished he were there right now so she could see it.

“I was busy shape-shifting,” Alex said. “I felt like my skin was going to explode.”

“Then it did,” Ella murmured.

“My stomach was the least of my worries.”

“Come.” Ella beckoned. “You need to lie down.”

Since Alex did need to, she followed the Frenchwoman into the bedroom where she tossed her clothes and crawled beneath the quilt.

“You should sleep now.” Ella sat on the side of the bed and brushed Alex’s hair away from her face with a cool, gentle hand, and Alex felt a flicker of memory. Someone sitting on her bed, touching her face—a cool hand against her fevered brow.

Mama?

The childish voice—hers—made Alex blink. She had few memories of her mother. She’d been so young when Janet died; then Charlie had packed Alex up and taken her away, leaving every memento behind. Once in a while, she got flashes—like now—but in truth they were becoming more rare as time went on. She wondered if the same thing would happen to her memories of Charlie. God, she hoped not. If she lost those, she’d be completely alone.

“You feel any better?” Ella asked.

Alex nodded. Maybe Barlow was back.

And the rush of warmth that followed that thought made her dizzy again. She closed her eyes as Ella slipped out.

She hated this. Alex had rarely been sick in her life, and she wasn’t supposed to be sick at all while a werewolf.

“Call it a perk,” she murmured.

What was she going to do about this bizarre development? How could she ever leave Barlowsville if leaving made her so sick she couldn’t move?

Although…If she could make it to Edward and partake of the Jäger-Sucher cure, wouldn’t that make this all go away?

Or she could man up, stick to her original plan, and kill him, though that option was becoming less and less appealing.

How did you put a bullet into the brain of someone you’d slept with? It couldn’t be that easy.

Hell, it shouldn’t be that easy.

Despite her roiling mind and equally roiling stomach, Alex fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The last time she’d slept like that, she’d been in Julian’s arms.

Eventually, the nagging thought that there was something she needed to do, somewhere she needed to be, someone she needed to see, penetrated, and Alex fought her way to the surface. She’d never been so bone-deep tired.

Ebony velvet darkness floated around her. She had no idea what time it was, even what day it was. Her mind was fuzzy; her mouth tasted like dirt, and her stomach was so damn empty. She lifted her head, and the darkness spun.

“Bad idea,” she said, reaching out to touch the bedside lamp.

Light flooded the room, revealing a sliver of gray at the edge of the curtains, which, around here in the land of eternal twilight, did nothing to help her figure out how long she’d been asleep.

She caught the scent of salt and flour, and her stomach rumbled. When she turned her head, she discovered that someone—Ella—had left her a package of saltines and a note.

Eat these BEFORE you get out of bed.

Considering the state of her belly, who was she to argue? Alex devoured the entire package without dropping a single crumb. Amazingly, when she lifted her head this time, the world stayed right where it belonged.

“Ella, you’re a genius,” she muttered, dragging herself to the shower.

Twenty minutes and a cup of tea—the idea of coffee brought the nausea back—later, Alex was dressed and out the door. She’d stop by Julian’s house, see if he was there. Though if he was, would she have awoken so dizzy?

“I’m fine now,” she said. If talking to herself was fine.

The clock in Ella’s kitchen had read just after noon, which meant Alex had slept for two hours. Unless she’d slept for twenty-six.

The sky was cloudy. Since the sun made an appearance only a few hours each day, cloudy just wasn’t fair. But the moon would rise in another few, and perhaps by then the clouds would be gone. The thought that she and Julian might run together beneath those silver rays brought a lightness to her heart that Alex didn’t want to examine. She had enough to worry about.

Alex knocked on Barlow’s door. Several minutes later she knocked again. She was deliberating moving on to Cade’s place—maybe his brother had found him and taken him there instead—when she lifted her nose and sniffed.

Snow and trees, his distinctive scent, and it was coming from inside. Too strong to be anything but Barlow. Without a second thought, Alex turned the knob and went in.

She searched the entire house without finding him. But every time she walked past the living room, the smell became sharper. Finally, she just followed her nose.

The scent intensified near the large leather chair. Right next to it stood a squat, glass-topped end table, in the center a picture frame that hadn’t been there before. Alex didn’t need to turn on the lamp to see that the picture in the frame was of Alana. She turned the lamp on anyway. All the gloom was starting to get to her.

“I know you’re here,” she said to the empty room.

The room stayed empty.

“I’ll stay until you have a brain aneurysm from the anger it takes to keep that invisibility bubble up and running.” Nothing. “Come on, Julian,” she said softly. “Talk to me.”

Slowly he materialized. First a mere shadow—there, gone, there again—then more and more solid until he was so close she could reach out and touch. But she didn’t.

His back to her, his gaze remained on Alana’s face. “I didn’t know she left,” he said. “If I’d gone after her right away, I could have stopped her.”