Immortal Dreams (73 page)

Kry follows us with a few more glasses and a glass bowl full of ice.  It rattles around as he carries it toward the living area, and the sound of it seems so much louder than it should.  I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the echo the rattling has left behind in my sensitive ears.

Devin plops down on the couch, but he doesn't let go of my hand as he drags me with him.  His eyes continue to study his phone, and I'm about ready to break the stupid thing.  He'd just pull out another one from a box full of them though, so it wouldn't do much good.

He puts the stupid thing away finally and drops my hand before he leans up to pour a glass of scotch.

"How long?" Ther asks.

"Any minute now," Devin murmurs as the cryptic conversations continue.

He guzzles his scotch down quickly before relaxing again, cupping the glass with both hands as his thumb strides across the rim of the glass.

"I need to go to the bathroom and clean up some of these cuts," I mumble.

"I'll come with you," Devin says while standing.

"I know where the bathroom is, and I can clean up by myself."

"You don't know where all my supplies are.  I'll come with you and help you locate everything."

I don't even resist.  I can hear that annoying ice clanking in the glasses as Ther and Kry pour themselves a glass of scotch.

I need a drink too.  But not scotch.  Gross.  That's what my granddad drank.

The bathroom lights nearly blind me as we walk in.  The massive room seems so much colder than it once did.

Devin rests his glass on the bathroom counter as he opens up the cabinets and pulls out gauze, Band-Aids, and peroxide.  I start to open the bottle of peroxide, but he picks me up and puts me on the counter before I can.

"Just let me do it," I mumble like a grouch.

"No.  Some of these need more attention than you can give them," he says softly, his eyes studying my various scrapes.

I huff as he starts patting a spot on my cheek with the peroxide drenched gauze.  He moves to another spot on my forehead, and I wince slightly when he applies too much pressure.

"Sorry," he says with a grimace.

"Stop saying that," I gripe.

"I was apologizing for using too much pressure," he says with a cocked grin.

Oh.  Crap. 
I hate that look because I love it.

He picks up a Band-Aid and presses it over the wound, his eyes locking with mine as he does so.  I break the eye contact quickly to avoid the fever that always follows his gaze.

He cleans a spot on my collarbone and adds a bandage to it as well.  He carefully cleans the cut on my lip with water, and our eyes lock again.

His breath is too close to me, and the warmth of it is enough to bring my blood back to its delicious boil.

He leans in closer to me before speaking.

"After my mother finishes, you won't feel anything at all for me.  Do you think I could get a goodbye kiss?" he asks softly.

"I think we already shared a post-breakup kiss that could be classified as a
goodbye kiss
," I grumble while breaking eye contact again and staring at the ground.

He tilts my chin up and forces my eyes to reconnect with his.

"That wasn't a goodbye kiss.  That was an I-can't-control-myself-around-you kiss.  Please.  It's the last thing I'll ever ask for."

I shiver slightly as my eyes give him the permission my lips cannot.  He pulls me gently into the clutches of his perfect lips, and more passion explodes in my mouth than I was expecting.

My submission has opened the floodgates for desire, and it's one crashing wave after another.  My legs wrap around him, and he jerks me tighter to his hips.  I moan lightly into his mouth as the last bit of sanity flees from me.  His hand wraps around the back of my neck, pulling my face closer, and suddenly I'm a ball of fire burning from the inside out.

The bottle of peroxide begins fizzing loudly beside us and then explodes across the room, but neither of us even acknowledges the crazy anomaly.  The kiss only deepens, and I pull his shirt over his head to reveal his divinity.

He jerks my pants down and throws them to the floor before jerking me back to his incredible center - my panties being all that shields me from the earth-shattering sex I know he's capable of.

My hands scour his firm, sleek body, and he bends me backwards as his lips trail down my neck.

His pants unzip, and I tremble as I get ready to feel his body connecting with mine.

Suddenly, all the bulbs lining the top of the mirror burst in unison.

I scream as he shields me from the falling debris dropping all around us.  The bathroom door swings open as Ther and Kry run in.

"What the hell was that noise?"

Devin stares at the empty sockets where the light bulbs once were and shakes his head before turning his gaze to the men with gaping mouths.  Their eyes are glued to me in my underwear.

Oh no.  My underwear!

"I don't know," Devin says in a low tone, not acknowledging their scandalous thoughts.

"I know what it was.  It was more crazy shit happening all around me," I gripe while hopping down and jerking my pants up as my cheeks become overrun with the red stain of embarrassment mixed with fury... and now sexual frustration.

Ther and Kry laugh a little as they walk back out.  Devin's arms wrap around me, the seduction of his touch burning against my already pulsing body.

Our eyes lock, and he leans down to lightly finish the interrupted goodbye kiss - which was more like a goodbye-grinding that brushed the median of turning into goodbye-sex.

He pulls back and strokes my lip with his thumb.

I don't want to give him up.

The elevator dings, warning us someone has joined our crazy assembly, and he pulls his shirt back on.

"My mother is here.  I'll miss you," he murmurs pitifully.

"I don't think this is really going to work, but if it does, I'll miss you, too," I whimper.

His lips attack mine this time without asking for permission.  I hear a woman's voice calling from the living area to interrupt the passion I want to feel.

"Devin.  Come on, son.  Let's not prolong the inevitable."

"Be right there," he says lowly through our parted lips.

"Just hurry it up.  I have other places to be today.  I love you, honey, but you can't make a mess like this ever again," she murmurs lightly, but I can hear it.

"A mess like what?" I ask.

I hear her gasp when I ask the question.

"Just keep quiet.  I'll be there in a minute," he says lowly, as if she's standing in the room with us.  "Sorry," he mumbles to me.

I kiss him again as tears fill up in my eyes, and I finally give him a taste of the pain I've been feeling when the salt from my tears invades our kiss.

I whisper lightly between his lips, "I'm not."

Chapter 7

The Truth about the Lies

Devin holds my hand almost too tightly while leading me to the living area.  His stride resembles an inmate's stroll down death row.  I know this isn't going to work, but he's apparently convinced it will.  Is she versed in hypnotherapy or something?

A lean woman stands next to the bar while talking to a tall, broad, and muscled man.  They look young, not our age, but young.

Her short black hair is cut in a chic bob that rises higher in the back.  She looks like a model.  There's not a hair out of place, a wrinkle on the pricy attire she's wearing, or an aged place on her face.

Her long, black pencil skirt has a tiny spit in the back to offer her legs more mobility.  Her white blouse is perfectly tucked into the broad waistband of the skirt, and her dangling earrings are studded with real, glistening diamonds.

I'm so out of place right now.  There's no way she's his mother.

"Devin," she says affectionately as she walks over to hug him.

He lightly embraces her, and she stares at me over his shoulder.  She pulls back and swallows hard as she sizes me up.

"She's a pretty girl.  I can see why you were derailed," she says in a snobby tone that burns through me with condescension.

Derailed?  Really?

"Play nice or I'll find someone else to do this," he cautions, his eyes admonishing her for her curt remark.

She tightens her lips while nodding to acknowledge his warning.

"I'm sorry.  I just hate to see you hurting like this, son.  I've been there.  It's not pleasant," she says with more compassion.

Okay.  So, the crazy versus normal scale has just tipped over after it got so one-sided.  These people are absolute lunatics.  They keep referring to me as if I'm the plague or something.

She walks over and takes my hand.  I can see more pain flooding through Devin as she drags me away.

What is going on?

"So, Adisia, is it?" she asks with her condescending sweetness.

"Yeah," I murmur quietly while staring into her odd, dark blue eyes - nothing like the swirling beauties of Devin.

"We're going to have you home and feeling better in no time," she says with a doctor's tone.

She starts rubbing my hand with her fingers and studying my eyes.  Her lips purse as she concentrates, though I'm not sure what she's trying to do, other than give me a hand massage.  I don't feel any different in the least, just like I knew I wouldn't.

Devin walks around the other side of the couch so he can see me better as his mother continues on with her tickling massage.  I actually giggle slightly.

Devin frowns at the same time she does.  My shoulders hunch as I cower slightly when I feel like I've done something wrong.

"What's wrong?" he asks her.

Nothing.  You're all just a bunch of crazy freaks
.

"I don't know.  It's not withdrawing like it should.  I actually can't find it at all.  Are you sure it's there?" she asks curiously.

"I'm positive.  You haven't seen the way she's suffered.  The tears have been continuous, and she barely leaves her apartment.  The obsession is still there, even now.  Look at her eyes," he whispers.

I scowl a little as I rip my hand free.

"I'm right here.  I'm not obsessed.  I like you.  That's it.  Apparently I'm some sort of freak for giving a damn about you, but that's all it is.  If you think giving me a hand massage is going to keep me from liking you, then I'll save you some trouble.  I'll get over you on my own like a normal human being."

I stand up, but his mother catches my hand in hers.

"I feel something, but it's different, unique - I'm not sure what it is."

"Look, I'm sorry I cried over your son, but I really don't give a rat's ass if you think I'm such a speck that I don't even deserve to grieve over losing him.  The entire town has been crying.  Why don't you go massage their hands and cure them of their woes?  I have better things to do," I scold.

I sprint toward the elevator, and she quickly questions me.

"You said your whole town is crying?  What do you mean?" she asks curiously.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory," I grumble while pressing the button in frantic repetition.

Devin walks over and steps in front of me, and I meet his soft eyes with my threatening ones.

"Move.  I'm done with this psycho charade.  I don't know why you're so insistent on me being over you, but I swear I'll work desperately hard to make your dreams come true."

Finally, I sound sane again.
No longer are my hormones controlling me.

The door dings, and I barge by him on my way in.

"You can't leave until I fix this," he murmurs softly while following me in.

"Watch me," I mumble.

He scoops me up, and I start screaming at the top of my lungs.  His mother rolls her eyes before she glares at him.

"Put that girl down.  There's no need in keeping her here.  She's not infected.  You were wrong son,” she says in a muted, almost inaudible tone.

"You're right.  I'm not fucking infected.  You all are.  You're all a bunch of infected psychopaths,” I scream.

Her eyes widen in complete shock.

"She heard that."

"Yeah.  She can hear us when we speak in
our
whispers.  She couldn't two days ago, but she can today.  She got sick for the first time in her life while I was with her.  She got sick for the second time in her life while I was with her.  Water boiled in her shower.  She sobs inconsolably day and night.  She doesn't come out of the apartment.  She destroyed half the shit in her home.  She told her boss she could fire her if she wanted to.  She can't stop herself from being with me, and I can't stop myself from being with her.  How many more signs do you need?  I've got more if necessary."

"Son, enhanced hearing is not a symptom.  She shouldn't ever be able to hear
our
whispers.  This is something else entirely.  Are you sure her family's not-"

She stops mid-sentence and her eyes seem to have a silent conversation with his.

"Positive.  She was adopted - legally - and they are all completely-"

He stops before finishing his sentence, and his eyes speak to her.

This is infuriating.

"Well.  A legal adoption does snuff out that hypothesis.  I don't know what to tell you.  It's possible I've missed something.  Give me a minute to regroup, and I'll get back with you."

Devin releases me completely and walks to his bedroom while smearing around the exasperation cloaking his face.  Ther and the man I'm assuming is Devin's father walk down the long hallway.  His mother goes into the guest bathroom, leaving Kry alone with me.

"Hey.  Is there anything to drink besides scotch?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah, I think so.  He has an excellent selection of wine in the back."

I smile appreciatively while feigning the damsel in distress act.

"Wine would be great," I say softly.

"I'll get you some."

He jumps up, and as soon as he disappears around the corner, I walk in complete silence to the elevator.  I know I have to get the doors shut quickly after it dings.  They'll hear it.

I don't know who or what they are, but I'm sick of the guessing game.  I'm not going to continue being anyone's captive.