Free The Heir of Death - The Final Formula 3.5 by Becca Andre Page A

brow. “Never mind.”
    “I get what you’re saying,” Doug said to James. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better about what I did.”
    “But you didn’t do it,” Elysia said.
    Doug studied his hands. A moment of silence, then he looked up at James. “How do you live like this?”
    “Live?” James lips twisted into a wry smile that wasn’t a smile at all.
    “You know what I mean.” Exasperation entered Doug’s tone. He was starting to sound like himself. “How can you stand it, knowing that someone can take your will at any time and make it their own.”
    “No one takes my will. That is one thing that is always my own. When I am taken, I become an object, a tool. That isn’t me. The real me is inside watching, waiting, and when I get the opportunity, I make them pay.”
    James held Doug’s gaze, and though the glow was absent, the predator was on full display. Doug felt it, too. Elysia could tell by the way he kept shifting his position. Though to Doug’s credit, he didn’t look away.
    “Okay,” Doug said. “How do we make him pay?”
    This time, James’s smile was genuine and maybe a touch blood thirsty.
    Elysia sighed. “How about we focus on doing what we came here to do?”
    “You mean—” James began.
    “Shh.” She lifted her right hand, intending to press a finger to his lips, but quickly lowered her hand. “Doug and I are compromised.”
    “He can’t hear or see through you unless he’s actively controlling you,” Doug said. “I asked Father about it once.”
    James gave him a frown before turning back to Elysia. “You were supposed to be immune.”
    “I guess we were wrong.”
    “What about the solvent Addie gave you?”
    “Neil confiscated that.”
    James ran a hand through his dark hair. “Addie can fix it later, but it will make the current situation more difficult.”
    “Well, you are an alchemist in training, so impossible should be in your repertoire.”
    “Hey, I’ve got to work up to impossible. I’m still at the grunt work stage.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he continued. “I smell fresh blood. Show me your hand.”
    “It’s still bleeding?” Doug asked. “Let me see. I don’t have anything to work with here, but as you told our sadistic ancestor, I did go to medical school.”
    “Were you going to be a doctor?” James asked.
    “No, it was part of my training to become a forensic pathologist.”
    “Intense.”
    “Yes.” Doug slipped his hand beneath her forearm. “Relax,” he whispered to her.
    It didn’t faze her to help Grams embalm bodies at the funeral home, but this was different. This was her. She didn’t want to look.
    “What did you major in?” Doug asked James.
    Elysia couldn’t imagine that he was all that interested. She suspected he kept the conversation going to distract her.
    “Chemistry. And it’s present tense,” James said. “I started my first semester in January.”
    Doug began unwrapping the strip of fabric he—or rather Alexander—had cut from his robe earlier and used as a makeshift bandage. “How old are you?” he asked James.
    “Nineteen.”
    Doug glanced up for a moment before turning his attention to her hand. “For some reason, I assumed you were older.”
    Elysia didn’t say anything, but she knew it wasn’t his looks, but the way James acted. He was much more mature than most nineteen-year-olds.
    The last of the bandage fell away, and she heard Doug take a quick breath. But she wasn’t watching him. It was James’s eyes she sought. It was stupid, but she feared she would see disgust on his features. His lips lifted away from his teeth, but it wasn’t disgust, it was fury.
    “Here, let me,” James said, reaching for her arm.
    “What are you going to do?” Doug asked.
    “Heal her.”
    “What?”
    “Will it still work in that collar?” she asked.
    “It should.”
    “This is more than a scratch,” she whispered.
    “We’re out nothing for trying.”
    She held his gaze a moment, then