Page 6 of Omega Sanctuary

"Certainly. She doesn't come often," I warned. I should tell him no and remain aloof.

"Of course, of course." He nodded again and turned on his heel. "I will check in from time to time."

He said the last absently, his attention back on Marella.

I gathered up my last remaining wit and went into the kitchen.

Missy was waiting for me with wide eyes. "Well? Did you talk to him?"

I dropped the metal tray on the table harder than necessary. "Yes."

"Did you tell him you'll make him whatever he wants?" Missy grinned. Her brown hair was in a messy bun, but even covered in flour like she was, the butcher's boy flirted with her every chance he got.

"He tried to charm me into giving him a heads up when the Priestess returned."

"Can't he visit the Temple whenever he wants? He's an alpha."

"He can." I let out a slow breath, but there was nothing I could do to stop the shimmering warmth inside me. "But it would get him more attention to "accidentally" see Priestess Sabine. Less formal."

"Politics." Missy wrinkled her nose. There was a reason why we liked Missy enough to let her work with us.

"Yes," I said, making my own face.

My body didn't care about politics. Awareness of Jaiyen's energy stayed with me, marked me. Instead of feeling outside of my body, now I was too aware. The brush of hair on the nape of my neck distracted me, the touch of fabric on my skin torture.

"You're scenting too softly for him to tell," a voice said. It was masculine, the same voice I'd heard last night.

I turned around quickly, like I could surprise the fireflies into holding still long enough for me to get a good look.

But there was nothing but the baking. Missy gave me a curious look, but she was measuring flour.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was hearing things.

Even the imaginary voices didn't think I had a chance with Jaiyen.

It was a stupid, foolish crush. I couldn't shake it, even knowing for sure he had no idea who I was. It didn't matter I knew how his hair looked in bright sunlight as well as lamplight. I loved how his brown eyes lit up when he talked about protecting the province.

This was the only knowledge about him I would ever have, and it would have to be enough.

My strange illness grew worse.

I spent the next few weeks trying—and failing miserably—to ignore the weirdness. My hands swelled for days, any motion pure agony, and then over night it went away. Exhaustion plagued me, and I slept long hours, only to spend the next week dancing, singing, and baking until we ran out of most ingredients and I had to pick up more. Some days I cried at the drop of a hat, and other days I wanted to scream at every person I saw.

Nan was worried. She made me see every healer and wise woman within a day's travel, and when that didn't help, she called in favors and made them travel to us.

None of it helped. I drank more tea, potions, and concoctions than I could name, and none of it touched the odd feeling that my body was changing.

Into what, I didn't know. I dreamed of flying, of swimming through vast oceans I'd only seen in paintings, and more often, of hot sweaty nights, men touching me, grasping me, filling me.

I dreamed of walking through the bakery, searching and searching for someone I saw out of the corner of my eye, but I always woke up before I could reach him.

The fireflies appeared and disappeared with such regularity that I stopped noticing them. It was almost a comfort when I was in the kitchen alone watching little yellow mice floating around the cheese. Sometimes they gestured with their paws, and I thought they were trying to tell me something.

I couldn't hide the physical symptoms from Nan, but neither could I bring myself to tell her about what I was seeing. I was hallucinating, on a daily basis. When no one came out with ergot poisoning, I assumed it was just me.

I didn't hear the man's voice again. Part of me was disappointed. If I was going to hear voices, why not a sexy man's voice?

The Lunar Festival was fast approaching, so I focused on baking. Baking didn't always help, but I felt more like myself when I was measuring flour and weighing ingredients.

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