Marcus lay on the sofa, breathing heavily. The seizure had passed, leaving him exhausted and drenched in sweat.
Maya sat on the floor beside him, holding his hand. She hadn't let go for three hours. Not even to drink water.
"Is he back?" I whispered to Caleb, who was standing by the window, his arms crossed.
"I don't know," Caleb replied grimly. "The seizure was intense. It might have reset his brain... or it might have fried it completely."
Suddenly, Marcus gasped.
His eyes flew open.
We all froze. Maya squeezed his hand. "Marcus?"
He blinked rapidly. He looked at the ceiling. Then he looked at the fireplace. Finally, his gaze landed on Maya.
The black, dilated pupils were gone. His eyes were a warm, familiar honey-brown.
"Maya?"
It wasn't a growl. It wasn't a question
