A Touch Morbid (21 page)

Blackness.

T
he leather of the couch creaked under Kristen as she shifted and opened her eyes. She felt strange, alert, and clearheaded. The typical moment of confusion between sleep and consciousness, when she realized she wasn’t in her own bed, never came. She knew exactly where she was. Truth be told, she felt better rested than she had in a month. Perhaps because every second was no longer a battle to hold herself together, to pretend she was all right. She stretched, swallowing. Her throat felt raw and dry.

She could see her phone on the coffee table, on silent but the screen aglow with missed messages. Reaching out, she snapped it up as quietly as she could. Her heart sank. Fifteen texts from Sebastian.

“Damn it,” she whispered. Her anxiety flared back full force. She held the phone in her hand, her fingers paused above the keys. What to say? My apologies for worrying you. I felt it best to take a few days by myself. Please attend to everyone as you see fit.

She hit Send, wondering how he’d react. It was the first time she’d done anything like this, taken off and left him in complete control. What if he thought she was in danger, came looking for her? Shame rolled through her.

“I had no choice,” she murmured.

“You keep saying that.” She startled. Luke stood behind her. “Last night, you were talking in your sleep. Begging for forgiveness.” He ran a hand through his curls, rubbed an eye sleepily. “It was rather pathetic, to be honest.”

“Almost as pathetic as you creeping close enough to hear me.” She threw the blanket off and then paused. When she’d fallen asleep, there’d been nothing over her.

Luke ran a hand on the back of his neck. “You were screaming, Kristen. I barely slept.”

“I’m sure I wasn’t screaming,” she snapped, but the hoarseness of her throat betrayed her. Her voice softened with embarrassment. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Luke strolled into the kitchen. “Now how much sense would it make to shut you up when you were spilling so many lovely secrets?”

Kristen’s heart stalled. “Such as?”

He glanced over the island counter and caught sight of her face. “Gibberish, mostly. Apparently you keep your secrets even in your sleep.” He grabbed a Tupperware container full of cereal down from the cabinet. “I know you don’t have to eat, but would you join me for breakfast?”

She wanted to tell him no, to stride out the door and never see him again. For the first time she wondered if Luke had planned all along to give her the information she needed to find Gabriel. Because after seeing him on the train, the cruelty in his eyes, she knew there was nothing she could do for him. That at least for the time being, Luke was the only one she could turn to.

“That would be fine.” Leaning against a wall in the kitchen, she rubbed her arms. She shivered without the warmth of the comforter. “Is it always so cold in here?” she asked.

He glanced around the room, surprised, and then shrugged. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I guess it’s not cold to me. We can turn up the heat if you’d like, but I doubt it’ll do much good.”

The wording gave Kristen pause. “Why wouldn’t it do any good?”

“It’s an older building. The penthouse has a wonderful view of the city, but it’s drafty.” Luke took two bowls from the cabinet, spoons from a drawer. “I’d say I’m surprised you didn’t notice the other times you were here but things were a bit … hotter … then.”

He winked before going back to pouring the cereal into bowls.

“Is that Lucky Charms?” Kristen didn’t hide her amusement.

He rolled his eyes. “My one weakness, aside from you.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, no?” She grabbed one bowl and poured in milk while shaking her head. “Big, bad Lucifer eating marshmallow cereal. That just makes my morning.”

He spooned a mouthful, chewing thoughtfully. “If it really takes so little to make you happy, my surprise will short-circuit you.”

Kristen’s spoon froze midway to her mouth, her hackles raising. “What do you mean? What surprise?”

Luke looked pleased with himself as he dug into the bowl again. “It’s in my room.”

“Do girls fall for that?” Kristen asked, unamused.

He met her eyes with a knowing grin that made her despise herself for asking. “You did once,” he reminded her. He laughed when she huffed. “Oh, relax. I said it’s in the room, not under the covers.”

She abandoned her bowl on the counter. Halfway down the hall, she glanced back at Luke, but he only shooed her forward. The door was open, the room beyond it immaculately clean. Luke kept the room stripped of everything but the essentials, and looking like it’d been taken directly from an edgy decorating magazine. Maroon walls, white accents, the bed with its elegantly spindled headboard and black sheets. She didn’t want to think of the other girls he’d no doubt brought there.

“I don’t see anything,” Kristen said.

She walked all the way into the room. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirrored double doors of the closet. The wild eyes that always greeted her in the mirror at home were not the ones looking back at her from Luke’s mirrors. These eyes were focused and a bit amused. The smile faded from Kristen’s face and the reflection stared back, solemn. Her dress was wrinkled, but for being slept in, wasn’t bad. Her hair was still the typical unruly mess.

“‘While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies,’” Kristen murmured to herself. She finger combed it into submission.

“‘My happiness,’” Luke said from behind her, coming closer, “‘bites the plum of your mouth.’”

Kristen raised an eyebrow. “You know Neruda?”

Instead of answering, he let his fingers slip across her collarbones, through the shallow cleft between them, down, lingering. Luke met her eyes in the mirror. “‘I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.’”

She groaned as a blush broke across her face. “What, pollinate them?”

“No,” Luke said, and tripped the switch that slid the mirror to the side and opened the walk-in closet. “Drape them in beauty.”

Her breath caught. Gowns, sundresses, cocktail dresses, velvets and lace, some flowing, some tight, every color of the rainbow. She ran her fingers over dress after dress, astounded. With effort, she forced the wonder from her voice. “You think I can be bought with pretty things?”

Luke chuffed in disbelief before she turned her attention back to the dresses. “You’re a black hole of a girl, Kristen,” he snapped.

“And to think,” she said. “Most guys would have kept on with the poetry.”

“Most guys aren’t worthy of you. I am. And you are worthy of me. You see my gifts for what they are. You’re a challenge.” He twisted her to face him. “I won’t insult you with bribery again.”

Her exasperated sigh brimmed with enough sarcasm to be sure he caught it. “I’m keeping the dresses,” she said, and a laugh burst out of him.

One of his hands slid from her shoulder, down her waist to her hip. He curled it around her back and dipped her as if they were slow dancing. She fell back, trusting his strong grip to hold her without thinking. When he tightened his arm to bring her up again, she found herself pressed against him, staring into his eyes.

His tongue slid slowly across his lips. “My little black hole,” he said, leaning his head nearer to her. “Pulling me in.”

E
den bolted up, a scream halfway up her throat before she cut it off. Someone grabbed her hand. She yanked away, couldn’t see anything in the dark, frantically fumbling on the nightstand trying to find the lamp.

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s me!” Az said as she clicked on the light. He yanked her thick drapes open, letting in the morning light.

She sucked air in, trying to catch her breath, get her bearings. Having Az beside her was enough to slow her heart, take the edge off her panic.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and fell back, raising the covers up and curling into a ball.

“Nightmare?” he asked. She didn’t answer. “It sounded like a bad one. I heard you from the couch.”

He dropped his hand onto her shoulder. The blanket shifted as she unwrapped herself, reaching behind her for his hand. “Don’t leave, okay? Please?”

She pulled his arm around her. His fingers twisted around hers as he curled close.

“What was it about?” he asked. She pulled his hand to her stomach.

“I thought it was snowing.” She tried to lick her lips, but her tongue still felt dry and gritty, like it’d been in the dream. “We were on the roof again and… I thought it was snowing, but it was ashes. Everywhere. And then they had you.” Her breath hitched, and she felt his lips press against her shoulder. “The Fallen. The Bound. Both of them. They were fighting over you.” She squeezed his hand.
He’s here
, she thought.
He’s okay
. The unease clung to her anyway. “And you were… God, I don’t think I’ll ever get the sound out of my head.” She couldn’t say it.

“What sound, Eden?”

She fought to keep the tears from spilling over. “The way you screamed when they ripped you apart. And I tried to scream, too, but nothing came out. Only ashes.”

Goose bumps raised on his arm and she felt guilty for telling him at all. He said her name softly, the tone full of trepidation.

“It was a stupid dream. Probably because of the packages.” There’d been another at their door yesterday. She’d thrown it away without opening it.

“When are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

She stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re—”

Az jerked his arm away from her. “Stop fucking around, Eden.” He dropped back onto the pillows. “Quit pretending we’re both oblivious and talk to me about this.”

She startled at his anger. He’d clearly been bottling it up.
For how long?
she wondered. She’d tried so hard to hide everything, to not worry him. “Az, I—”

“Are you sick?” he cut in, frustration in his voice. She heard the click of his throat as he swallowed. “Or is it worse?”

She opened her mouth to set him at ease, but no sound would come.

“I didn’t think you could get sick,” he said quietly. Az was worried, and for the first time she admitted to herself how terrified she’d become.

Something was very, very wrong.

On the nightstand her cell phone alarm went off. For a long moment neither of them moved to shut it off.

“You don’t sleep. Sometimes you seem like you’re hurt.” Finally, Az handed her the phone to silence. “What’s going on?”

She gave him the only answer she could. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

He hadn’t mentioned the smears on her cheeks, her hands. She didn’t want to admit to herself what they were.

She lifted an arm over her head, adjusting on the pillows so she could see him better. “It could be anything, Az. I’m not like the other Siders, because of Gabe. For all I know, a few cramps are normal when I stop carrying so much Touch. You weren’t around after the rave, but I didn’t feel right until I’d balanced out.”

She tried to smile.

He moved slowly closer, lying beside her on the pillow. She faced him, didn’t dare shy away from the intensity in his stare, his desire to believe her.
This isn’t lying
, she promised herself.
I don’t know
what
the pain means, let alone the ashes
.