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His Touch On My Skin
Ella Ryatt takes a single step into the room before his face flushes of color, and his eyes roll back in his head. Mom gasps and rushes forward just in time to break Ryatt’s fall. “Ryatt!” I screech, jumping in to help as he pitches forward. “Goddess above, Ella. How much does he weigh?” Mom grunts, her cheeks puffing with effort while we try to keep him upright. “Ryatt, come on,” I urge, helping Mom lower him to the ground. Some of the warriors he tore through in the wallway are back on their feet and limping toward the door. I pull my lip back in a snarl as a trio of them stumbles into the room. “GET OUT!” They back away, going pale. “Shut the door, please,” Mom huffs, forcing a kind smile, but her eyes are narrowed with determination and concern as she looks down at Ryatt.
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