Page 7 of Tiger's Voyage

“So what did you want to talk about?”

He sat down on the edge of my bed. “I … I’m not sure exactly. How’s your hand?”

“It stings. How’s yours?”

“Mine’s healed up already.” He held up his hand for inspection.

I took his hand in mine and studied it. I couldn’t even tell anything was under his skin. He wrapped his fingers around mine briefly. I blushed, and he brushed the backs of his fingers lightly against my warm cheek, which caused my skin to burn even hotter.

“You’re blushing.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s … quite becoming.”

I sat very still and watched his expression as he concentrated on my face. He lifted his hand and touched a strand of my hair. He trailed his fingers down the length of it. I sucked in a breath, and he did too— but for a different reason. A bead of sweat trailed from his forehead down his temple when he pulled back.

“Are you alright?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s worse when I touch you.”

“Then don’t touch me.”

“I need to get past this. Give me your hand.”

I placed my right hand in his, and he covered it with his left. He closed his eyes and held my hand for a full minute. I felt a light tremor in his arm as he cupped my hand gently between his. Finally, he let go.

“Is it time for you to change back to a tiger?”

“No, I have time left. I can remain in human form for twelve hours now.”

“Then what is it? Why are you shaking?”

“I don’t know. It feels like something’s burning me when I touch you. My stomach cramps, my vision blurs, and my head throbs.”

“Try sitting over there.” I pointed to the couch.

He stubbornly sat on the floor with his back to the bed and brought up a knee to rest his elbow on.

“Is that better?” I asked.

“Yes. The burning is gone but the blurry vision, headache, and stomach heaving is still there.”

“Do you feel pain when you’re in another part of the house?”

“No, only touching you causes the blistering pain. Seeing you or hearing you brings on the other symptoms in varying degrees. If you’re sitting far enough away, it’s barely a twinge. It’s merely uncomfortable, and I have to fight the urge to get away. Holding your hand or touching your face is like handling red hot coals.”

“When you first came back and we talked, you put my foot in your lap. Didn’t that hurt?”

“Your foot was on a pillow. I touched it for only a few seconds, and I was in so much pain at the time anyway that I barely noticed more.”

“Let’s test it. Stand over there by the bathroom door, and I’ll go to the other side of the room.”

He moved.

“So right now, how do you feel?”

“I feel like I need to get out of here. The discomfort has lessened, but the longer I stay, the worse it will get.”