Touching Smoke (28 page)

“He’s lying, Fallon.” Isaiah’s chair shrieked against marble as he climbed to his feet. The soft, steady clap of his feet as he moved towards me, made my heart flinch.

I hugged myself despite the warmth, warding off an inner chill. “Why would he?”

“Because he’s evil,” he said simply. “Because he likes knowing he’s hurt you.”

I didn’t pull away from his touch when he rested his hands on my shoulders, although I wanted to. The feel of him through the fabric of my shirt had my blood singing in a way that only then did I realize probably wasn’t natural. Nothing about us was natural. Nothing that would apply to a normal relationship, applied to us. It only just then made sense why I was so obsessed. Why his touch made me melt in my skin. Why being away from him was like being skinned and salted alive. Why I felt like my very breath depended on his existence. None of those things was normal; not to the intensity with which I felt them.

“When you touch me, do you feel it?” I asked, staring far into the horizon, at the spot where the world dipped and vanished from sight, kind of the way my sanity seemed to want to do at that moment. “Do you…” I trailed off, biting my lip, trapping the single word that could unleash all my insecurities. The magical L word all girls wanted to hear from the boy they were crazy about.

His nose grazed the side of my face as he leaned in to murmur into my ear. My eyes closed and I steeled myself against the shiver that rippled along my spine. “Yes.”

Yes.

He said yes and my chest heaved with the first of many heartbroken sobs because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real!

The thick slab of stone separating the abyss from the lavish manor cut through my palms like shards of ice as I leaned into it, using it to support my dead weight. I all but tore my heart out of my chest. I was only half-conscious of Isaiah holding me up, holding me back from falling over the lip, but his touch was unbearable. He may as well have wrapped me in barbwire and rolled me down a field of cactuses. I tried to break away, to push him back, but his arms only tightened, pulling me, enfolding me into the security of his chest. He didn’t say anything, which I was thankful for. I wasn’t sure I could stand any sort of openhearted confession, not when I was so close to losing my mind. The little he’d already told me sat like a cluster of nails in the pit of my stomach. Anything else and I may have jumped.

Garrison took that moment to reenter the terrace, idly fiddling with the cufflinks on his jacket, oblivious of the danger awaiting him. It was probably why he wasn’t prepared when Isaiah unlatched himself from around me and dove for him, tackling him to the ground with a vicious roar.

It all happened so fast. I went from crying into Isaiah’s chest to stumbling as my support seemingly disintegrated in my arms. The guard, much more vigilant, got to Isaiah before I could finish righting myself. I wasn’t nearly quick enough to warn Isaiah when the guard drew back a heavily booted leg and drove the steel toe straight into Isaiah’s ribs. The world seemed to blister red at the cry of pain that burst from Isaiah’s lips as his entire body arched off Garrison. The guard, triumphant now, pulled back for another blow.

“Don’t touch him!” I lunged, slamming my whole weight into the guard, sending us both crashing backwards into the glass doors. The tinkle of glass mangled with the roar in my ears. Everything from there, us landing in a mess just beneath the broken frame to my nails tearing into his face, gouging holes, twisted in a blur of motion lost to me. I heard him howl, his agony a symphony in my ears, his suffering pure bliss. Sticky warmth spattered my face and ran down my chest. Bitter copper tainted my tongue. I hissed my pleasure.

Vaguely, I was aware of raised voices somewhere in the distance. Something scuffled. Footsteps clapped all around me. Something clicked it was faintly familiar. Then there was a pop and a pinch in my side. Before the darkness swung up to claim me, I heard a snarl of mindless rage somewhere far away followed by two more pops. Then nothing.

I woke up with a mouth full of cotton. My head buzzed with the shrill of a blender. I opened my eyes and winced at the dappled rays of sunlight, peeking through the lace curtains, reflected off the shining surface of the hardwood floor and stabbed me straight in the brain like a knife. I groaned, twisting around on the mattress of feathers, pulling the silk sheets up to my ears, when I stopped.

There was someone else in bed with me.

My eyes flew open for a second time, round and wide as I blinked back crusty sleep and squinted at the face barely concealed by shadows.

Isaiah!

Memories backhanded me straight into the present. I sprung upright, wooziness forgotten, replaced by crippling fear as I took us in.

Someone had changed me.

No.

Someone had bathed and changed me. My hair was still damp around the ends. My skin smelt of jasmines, a soap I never used. My skin was scrubbed pink, and I was wearing a long, white nightgown. My stomach churned as I remembered a similar dress, flapping in the wind like a flag, as Amalie took her last stand on the terrace.

I hastily shoved aside the bile working its way up my throat, focusing my attention instead on the unmoving figure beside me.

So still, was my first terrified thought. Why was he so still? Why was he sleeping? He never slept! Panic wedged in my chest. What had they done to him? Had they hurt him because of me? No. There were no marks on his face. His hair was as damp as mine, and he no longer wore the same black t-shirt. This shirt was white, a color I hadn’t seen on him before.

I reached for him, my fingers trembling. “Isaiah?”

My fingers lightly skimmed the side of his face. Relieved by the warmth I felt there, I roamed down to the curve of his neck, seeking the pulse hidden there. The hard clamp of steel-like fingers around my wrist startled a squeak from me, then a yelp when I was forcibly shoved onto my back and pinned there by a rock-hard torso, my arms pinned above my head.

“Isaiah!” I gasped, staring wide-eyed up into his thunderous face looming over mine.

He blinked, the savage gleam in his eyes instantly vanishing into one of instant concern. “Are you hurt?” His hold released and he shifted up onto his elbow to peer down at me.

I shook my head, trying not to rub my wrists. “Are you?” I reached for his face instead, touching his cheek.

He combed his fingers through his hair. “No.”

My tongue roamed over my dry lips. “What happened?”

The sheets rustled as he sat up. “I think we were tranquilized.”

“And cleaned,” I said, picking at the front of the dress with just the tips of my fingers as if it were moldy garbage sitting out in the hot July sun.

Isaiah peered down at himself, raised the corner of the sheets and peeked under. I caught a glimpse of white boxers before he quickly pulled the sheets back down over his lap.

“I hate white,” he muttered.

Despite the circumstances, I giggled at the disgust curling his lips.

He glanced over at me, a grin touching his lips. It was such a beautiful smile, so warm and sweet. It was golden and pure like being touched by sunrays on a winter morning. I wanted to stay and bask in it forever when, too quickly, it melted away and his brows drew together. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

I stared. “Giggled?”

He shook his head. “Jump on that guy.”

I struggled to an upright position. “He hurt you!” I protested.

“He could have hurt
you!
He could have
shot
you,” he said, his voice tense.

“Then you shouldn’t have jumped on Garrison,” I said. “He could have shot you, too!”

Isaiah looked at me, really looked at me like I was the only thing in the whole world. “I wanted to kill him.”

My heart stuttered in my chest at the ferocity vibrating in each word. “Isaiah…”

His nostrils flared with every panted breath. “I wanted to rip him to pieces for what he said to you, for the way he hurt you…” he trailed off, stuffing both hands through his hair. “For the way he made you…” A muscle twitched in his jaw as he looked away.

“What?” I whispered, fisting my itching fingers into the sheets to keep from touching him, not trusting myself if I did.

His eyes met mine, bright with unbridled fire. “For the way he made you doubt me.”

My breath caught in my throat. I did reach for him then, resting my hand on his forearm. “I don’t doubt you, Isaiah. I just don’t know what to think right now. This is all too much for me.”

He settled his hand over mine, covering my fingers entirely. “You know there’s a chance we might not get out of here, don’t you?”

I swallowed the prickle of fear and nodded. “I know.” My next words lodged in my windpipe, refusing to be released. It took several minutes of convincing myself before I could blurt them out. “I couldn’t stop myself,” I said, meeting Isaiah’s gaze hesitantly.

“What?”

I looked away to our joined hands. “That guy. I couldn’t stop myself. I saw him kick you and… It was like I lost control. I wanted to tear his throat out for touching you,” I looked down at my free hand, stared beneath my nails, my stomach protesting the sickening memory of flesh squishing beneath them. “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t help it.”

“I don’t think we
can
help it,” he murmured. My lashes dropped at the tender glide of his knuckle along the side of my face. “It’s like Garrison said, protecting each other is what we do.”

“I didn’t do a very good job protecting you back at the diner when we were attacked by Maia and Yuri. I was pathetically human then. I didn’t feel human at all this time.”

His knuckle tucked beneath my chin and lifted, forcing me to fall into his eyes. “You weren’t drugged this time,” I hadn’t thought of that. “I wasn’t very good at protecting you that day either.”

Giving in to that moment, into the summersault of emotions, to the soul-deep longing consuming me whole, I leaned into him, slipping my forehead into the curve between his shoulder and neck, and closing my eyes. It was almost easy to ignore the little voice reminding me, persistently, that this wasn’t real. That what we felt wasn’t real. This moment wasn’t real. That I should pull away, make space and fight the pit pulling me steadily under. But I didn’t want to. I was already fighting so much, the whole world it seemed, I didn’t want to fight the only good thing left in that world. So, when Isaiah pulled me back down onto the mattress, molding me into him and drawing the sheets around us, I didn’t protest.

“Isaiah,” I murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Do you believe he really has your memories?”

His shoulder jerked. “I don’t know.”

I tilted my head back to peer up into his face. “Are you going to do it? Are you going to ask him to return them?”

Several emotions danced across his eyes. The one that really gripped my heart and spurred me with further loathing for Garrison was longing. “I don’t know.”

I leaned in and brushed a kiss to his chin. “I’m with you, whatever you decide. You know that, don’t you?”

His response was the flex of his arms, crushing me harder into him. I nuzzled the hollow of his throat, pressed another kiss to his Adam’s apple, and let his steady breathing lull me back to sleep.

Garrison was waiting for us on the terrace again the following morning. He wore a pearl-gray suit with a light purple shirt underneath, looking ever the businessman. He didn’t greet us with the same enthusiasm as last time, but he seemed more alert, though I wasn’t sure why — there were no less than four guards stationed around us, standing far back enough to pretend not to be threatening while close enough to tranquilize us again if necessary.

Garrison flicked a glance over us, taking in the simple, cotton black dress I wore and the black slacks and white shirt Isaiah wore — outfits that were left for us in the place of our regular clothes, things we had yet to see again. There was a sort of smug satisfaction in the single once-over, like he’d won some war.

“Breakfast?” he said, buttering himself a piece of toast.

We both shook our heads, but a part of me I wondered just how much longer Isaiah could go without food. My concerns were interrupted by the clang of steel against china as Garrison set the butter knife down.