She also knew it would never end. The Knowing rewrote her memory, and it was almost as if part of her mind opened, made room, and was stuffed with the complete history of the Preor in the tiny spaces of her brain.
The Knowing sickness had killed several in Preor’s history, but not many because the aliens understood the Knowing sickness so well. It had taken extreme catastrophe for the Preor to realize the deadly force of the Knowing sickness. And even though efforts were made to keep mates together, sometimes horrible accidents happened.
Sasha was amazed that in the thousands of years of Preor history, only a handful had died of Knowing sickness. Yet the Knowing did not lie—could not lie. Everything it told her was as real and solid as her bones. The illness she suffered would abate as soon as she and Whelon were together. Her disordered nervous system would pull itself back into working order as she responded to Whelon’s presence.
After she was claimed and mated, the deadly danger would pass. Mates could sicken if they were apart, yes, but it wasn’t deadly. The Knowing sickness was so dangerous because the mystical force that made up the Knowing needed both mates to rewrite their memories. They had to share the mental load of so much history of both races.
If they couldn’t be together when the Knowing worked, their bodies simply could not support the neural load.
A sharp hand invaded her world of painful, dark silence. She tried to struggle but her own hands merely flapped weekly.
“That looks fantastic!” her mother breathed. “Like someone who’s brain damaged. Can you do it again?”
Sasha whined, a sound of pleading that rose in her throat. She was ashamed of the utterance after she let it loose, and when she opened her eyes, she found her mother’s cross frown that always met her when she was weak.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” she murmured automatically and her mother’s frown deepened.
Jenna stood over Sasha with her hands on her hips while she looked over the bed. She reached over and ruffled Sasha’s hair, leaning back to view her handiwork from a distance before returning to mess the strands some more.
“Mother,” Sasha whispered weakly. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything,” her mother muttered with a frown. “Just lie there like a fucking invalid. I’ll take care of everything. You’re always letting me down with your weakness. You know that, right?”
Sasha blinked away the tears that threatened, her chest full and trembly. She wanted to cry but wasn’t sure if she had the strength.
“You’ve always been dramatic, Sasha.” Her mother went on in what might have been an attempt at a soothing tone.
It felt like daggers to the chest for Sasha.
“It was essential for your career that you be dramatic and I allowed it whenever you had these hysterical fits, but really… enough is enough!”
“I’m not faking, mother!” Sasha attempted to sit upright and then flopped back down again just as quickly as her stomach leapt into her throat. “I need Whelon.”
“You need what?”
“Whelon. He’s my mate.”
Her mother laughed and waved off Sasha’s words. “You can’t need another person. It’s just not possible. You’re under a spell or poisoned. One of the doctors even said so. You could shake it off if you weren’t so self-centered.”
No, one of the doctor’s said it was the Knowing sickness. But Sasha kept her mouth shut. Her mother wasn’t interested in listening now, if ever.
Jenna picked up a small camera, fiddling with the settings, and Sasha suddenly realized what her mother had planned. “Mother?”
“Shut up, Sasha. Just lie there and be sick. Look even sicker, if possible. Since that’s all you think you can do, just do it. I’ll save your career and finish your story. All I ever do is clean up your messes, Sasha. I swear.” Her mother’s voice was so hard, so uncaring and hateful, that tears finally ran down Sasha’s cheeks, stinging her eyes. Yet her mother didn’t seem to notice—or care.
Instead, Jenna positioned herself a short distance from where Sasha lay on the bed and began filming with the camera. “As you know, beloved big-time celebrity Sasha Dane was abducted by the Preor. The mate Choosing process is not voluntary for the women at all. They are exposed to some kind of poison in the air. Then they become convinced that the nearest Preor to them is their mate.”
That’s not correct, Sasha thought with exasperation.
“This is not a cognitive process!” her mother cried. “Look at my beautiful daughter. Look at what they’ve done to her! Only a day ago she was vibrant and full of life. This is what Preor poison does to women. No medical treatment can help her now. If we want help, we will have to go back to the Preor for answers. My Sasha didn’t choose this and now they force us to deal with only them!”
Sasha had to admit that her mother played up the role nicely. She was convinced of the truth of her words and Sasha knew that kind of certainty would attract other believers or those on the fence about the Preor.
Even though everything she said was wrong.
Sasha needed Whelon. Her body cried out for him. The only thought in her mind was the desire to press herself against him and feel his skin on her own. The imagined relief was nearly as good as the real thing, and tingles danced across her skin, causing her to moan softly.
She had to admit, her mother’s words frightened her. There may well have been a tiny nugget of truth in what she said. Sasha’s mind was no longer her own. Was she forever changed? She didn’t truly know. Her opinion on the Preor had been altering while she was at the Choosing, but she certainly hadn’t been ready to have their babies.
Dragonlets… the Knowing supplied. Cuter word, but she still wasn’t ready to pop out dragonlets.
Her eyelids flickered, open and shut, and the glow from the window began to sting her eyes. Yet her mother kept shooting, doing several takes from different angles. Sasha gasped in exasperation, the small sound all she could muster to illustrate her feelings. When she thought about Whelon, she couldn’t stop trembling.
Even though she was afraid her mind was not her own, she craved him, and she knew she had to get to him to save her life. She would find him, touch him, and all would be well. She couldn’t think her way out of this in her current state, but maybe, if she got to Whelon, she could work something out.
The only way to discover more about the Choosing process and the Knowing sickness was to ask the Preor. She considered it a small concession to getting well—to living.
Sasha grit her teeth and put all her effort into getting up, yet she didn’t even manage to raise her head. A horrible wave of nausea gripped her and she rolled to her side, leaning just over the edge of the bed.
“Wait!” her mother cried and grabbed the camera.
Sasha could hardly hear her mother as vomit bubbled up in her throat. She gagged and threw up all over the floor, idly wondering how she was supposed to eat to keep herself alive. She kept vomiting even when nothing was left in her stomach.
She clung to the bed, shivering and waiting for her stomach to decide if it was done.
“I didn’t catch that,” her mother snapped. “Can you do it again?”
Chapter Twelve