“How are you feeling?”
Annabel sat cross-legged on the floor next to the sleeping bag somebody had brought for her, watching him. They had been staring at each other ever since he walked in, and it took him a few minutes to muster the courage to speak.
She had changed from her torn clothes and hood to jeans and a T-shirt, but for some reason, she looked uncomfortable in them. Her messy hair was tied out of her face and her usually warm chocolate eyes now stared at him with a cold, mistrustful glint.
She said nothing. Her body remained tense, but she didn’t reach for her powers. He could feel no murderous intent coming from her either—she just looked like she really didn’t want to speak with him.
William nodded as if she had answered his question, then looked down at the floor. He want
