“My eyes?”
“I know when you’re communicating because your eyes turn black. Your irises. Your sclera. All pitch black.”
My breathing shallowed. “That sounds…bad.”
He shook his head. “It’s good, Evie. You share the genetic properties of the coccinellidae, the ladybird. You exhibit their strengths and their weaknesses. Yet, you’re still human.” His pupils dilated. “An enhanced human adapted to kill aphids.”
Tremors infiltrated my body. I handed him the mirror. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
He turned his back and filled the tub. Still didn’t trust me?
“I can bathe myself.”
“Your wounds need cleaning and stitches. I’m still your doctor.”
A crimson slash puckered my arm. Where did that come from? I extended my jaw and thousands of needles invaded my head. The ooze from the gash inside my cheek left a rancid taste in my mouth.
He’d bathed me dozens of times, but this time felt different. I flushed the toilet and curiosity sent me climbing into the tub.
He bent over the edge and submersed a sponge. “We have one week. We’re not waiting for your guardians.”
My guardians?
He cleansed my injured arm and laid it on the ledge. “Let this dry.”
As he focused on the cuts on my face, I realized this bath was different for him too. Beneath his clinical movements was a stirring of something intrinsic to a man in the presence of a naked woman. The bead of sweat on his brow. The shift of his eyes. The tremor in his fingers. I found a strange comfort knowing he was as affected by me as I was by him. It felt human.
He made gentle dabs around my mouth. “You can control the army. We just need to hone your command. You have to block Aiman’s link to his guards. And blind him. Then we have a chance.”
We? My belly fluttered. “Command them how? I get deafening headaches. Nose bleeds. I pass out after mere minutes.”
“Yang.” His voice was soft.
“Yang.”
He lifted his bag onto the toilet and dug through it until a sealed package of needles and thread appeared in his hand. “I can’t explain the pigment changes in your skin and eyes without more testing. I’ve tried to attribute it to bruising, acute shock, blood loss, the spider bites. There’s no medical explanation.” He prodded the gash on my arm. “I’m stitching this first. Ready?”
At my nod, the needle poked my skin. The tugging was uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the pain when I stitched myself in Roark’s bathroom.
He clipped the thread, reading my face. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you while you ogle my tits.”
“I’m not—” His gaze flicked to my chest where my nipples poked above the suds. A blush swept over his golden skin and he steadied the needle next to my smile.
“We know the—” He cleared his rough voice. “Relax your mouth, Evie.”
My smile widened. Had he always been that easy to unsettle? After a few attempts, I loosened the muscles in my cheeks.
“We know the ladybird is the aphid’s predator. Seeing its physical traits morphing on you…maybe it is mimicry. A form of adaptation assisting you in survival. Or maybe it is teleologic evolution.” He glanced at my face. “A derivative of Aristotle’s four causes where adaptation occurs for a purpose, an end goal.” He pierced another hole. “What we do know is your adaptations are not chance and are undeniable functions of your defenses.”
I chewed on his speculation. “So those are your theories on how I’m…evolving. Why do I go into shock?”
“Flip around so I can do that eye.”
He stared at his lap as I turned. “Are you familiar with Yin and Yang and its relationship to the body?”
“No clue.”
“Yang represents the masculine virtues of nature. The bright burst of a solar flare. The tough shell of a penguin egg. Clay, hardened and fired by the sun. This is balanced with Yin, its feminine polarity. A velvet petal opening under a midnight sky. The roll of a worm pushing soil. A gurgle in an ice water spring.” A pause. “Do you feel cold or slowed down when the vibrations hit you?”
I thought about it. “Yeah, but only once did I let the symptoms go too far. That’s when I passed out.”
His forearms rested on the ledge, drawing his face close to mine. “And that’s when I touched your head in the hall. You were summoning the aphids away from your priest. When I touched you, they stopped.”
“Okay.” I tumbled into his jet eyes, trusting him.
“It was Yang.” He stabbed wet fingers in his hair, making the ends stand in chaotic sexy spikes. “Yin and Yang are always vying for balance. The Yang of day turns toward the Yin of night. Without harmony between the two, the body and mind aren’t healthy.”
“Not sure I’m following.”
“Man or woman, all bodies contain Yin and Yang. Yet you’re only able to tap into the dark, feminine Yin as your fuel, which is why you needed my touch—Yang—to complete the symmetry. Yang is outward Chi flow. Once depleted, your Yin surges to compensate.” He muttered to himself, “Which is why your body goes into shock as you continue to draw from your energy.”