Shadow Touched (Editing)

32. NAIMA

My brain fills with white noise. When Grey turned yesterday, it was so sudden that I barely had time to register the change. I was also stupidly enraptured—just in awe of him, his presence, his nearness.

This time, as he spoke, as he told me about his illness, I was able to see the subtle changes. The way his hands went from their casual hold to a confident clasp. How his words became more clipped. His shoulders broadened. His body, his very being, began to take up more space.

By the end of his story, he'd lost the earnestness in his voice. His words were a performance. He was performing Grey. Because Grey was no longer in charge. The shadows in his veins had fully taken over. His beautiful blue eyes, the colour of the sea, filled with inky black smoke. They locked on me in the way men do when they think they own a woman.

He stalked towards me as if I was prey, and when he reached for me—the moment was so fast, I was amazed I could flick my sword at him in time. I'm glad I kept my cuff on. I suppose buried somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew I needed a fail-safe.

Now, he looks down at my urimu, the cold metal wrapped firmly around his wrist. He smiles at it and then lets out a gentle laugh full of astonishment and delight.

"When did you have time to get out your sword?"

"I never took off my cuff."

"Hmm, yes. We were in a hurry, weren't we?" He gently tugs, and I pull my wrist back, allowing the steel to bite into his wrists. He doesn't react.

"All those beautiful words of love—yet where is the trust Naima?" He asks the question so softly, yet it feels like it echoes around the room.

"Give me back Grey."

"I am Grey."

He smiles at me. It's Grey's smile, all coy sweetness mixed with just the right amount of bad. His eyes, however, are so smoke-filled that it's hard to imagine the beautiful blue eyes that usually sit on that handsome face.

"Who are you?" My question comes out forceful. It's a ploy, though. My meagre attempt to sound tougher than I feel.

"I am Grey."

It is Grey's voice. But those eyes. They sweep across my body, reminding me that I am still very naked. The way they move across my form feels obscene.

He steps toward me. The movement is full of swagger that borders on arrogance. He's aware that his form is not only physically pleasing to look at but is perfectly capable of physically pleasing me. Yet, there's a danger in his demeanour I've never felt from Grey before. It's not the unintentional feeling of menace that sometimes roils off Finch. It's a dark threat. And wholly un-Grey-like.

I scramble out of the bed.

I really wish I was wearing clothes.

I allow my urimu to unfold further. The thin blade goes slack as I release it, but the tines remain embedded in Grey's wrist. I take another step back. And then another. And another.

He smirks at me. He knows there's only so far I can go without jumping off the balcony naked. Besides, we're so high up that to do so would only court death. My weapon goes taut. I've reached the end of the line. Literally.

"Grey!" I call to him, even though his body stands before me. "I know you're in there. If you can hear me, please, please, my love, fight this. You are stronger than this."

"Naima. I am Grey."

I roll my eyes at him. I'm so confused. The Blight is a scourge; those who are Shadow-Touched are mindless drones. Grey is so composed. He's all sophistication and unnervingly sexy smirks.