Touching Fire (Touch Saga) (37 page)

He moved
to the motel door and stepped out. The door shut with a deafening click behind him. I threw back the stiff comforter and struggled to climb out, to go after him.

“Leave him.” Celia unfolded her willowy silhouette from her seat and rose as graceful
ly as a swan. “This is not easy for him. Being here takes a lot out of him.”

Without another word to me, she raised her chin and followed
Ashton from the room.

I looked to Archer when his chair creaked with the loss of his weight as he got to his feet. “What did I say?”

“You didn’t say anything,” he said simply. “Being topside is draining for Sires.”

“Kind of like how it
felt heavy for me in Luxuria?” Isaiah asked.

Archer nodded. “We aren’t meant to be here for great lengths of time.
It’s not so bad for me because I’m only an heir, but it’s excruciating for him, and he’s been here for three days.”

“But he lived here with my mother,” I pointed out.

“Only for short bursts of time,” Archer replied. “He would leave to return home, recharge and return.”

I shook my head. “That seems like a lot of work.”

“The crazy things one does in the name of love,” Archer said.

“I should see if he’s okay
,” I decided.

I struggled to throw back the sheets. The movement was slow when every movement felt like getting stabbed all over again. But I gritted my teeth and managed to free myself just enough to be able to swing my legs over the mattress. I used to nightstand to take my weight as I granny-shuffled to my feet.

“Let me help you.” Isaiah took me by the wrist and shoulder and let me lean on him as I straightened.

“Okay,
I think I can make it.”

“I would just let him have a minute,” Archer suggested as I hobbled to the door.

I twisted my head around, ready to ask why, when my knee bumped the chair some genius had placed next to the door. I stumbled over it, grabbing its armrests to steady myself, but the pain was astronomical.

“Fallon?” Isaiah grabbed me when I doubled over
, clutching the slow burn between my ribs.

I waved him away. “I’
m fine.”

“You should be in bed,” Isaiah said, his fingers tightening on my arm.

I was ready to agree with him, I even began to follow his lead towards the bed, when I felt the wet goo oozing from my body, dampening my t-shirt just above my wound.

“What…?” I
drew my hand away and turned them towards the lit lamp next to the bed. The slime was green, not like snot, but jello, and it was sticky. “What is this?”

I pushed past Isaiah and
shuffled into the bathroom, still demanding someone tell me what
this
was when I shut the door. I hiked up the shirt and twisted my body towards the mirror.

What should have been an ugly scar with crass stitches making small X’s holding
my flesh together was a thin, pink pucker about two inches long that looked weeks old. A pink flush colored the skin around it. Green goo crusted the shiny incision. It was leaking.

“God!” I gra
bbed a fistful of toilet paper and wet it under the faucet. I was dabbing at the slime when the door opened and Isaiah slipped inside. “What is this?” I asked him, twisting my torso so he could see. I didn’t even care I was standing there, shirt hiked up on one side, flashing him with my panties, which weren’t even flattering. But hell if that was important. I was oozing jello.

He hesitated
for a full heartbeat before mumbling, “Celia’s venom?”

My eyes widened. “You’re not sure?”

“No … I mean, yes, I’m sure.” He scratched his forehead. “She had to close the cut.”

“She couldn’t use stitches?
Or superglue? I’d even take duct tape over … wait.” I looked at him. “Did you say venom?”

He slipped his hands into the pocket of his cargo pants. “
She’s wrath,” he reminded me. “Do you remember when Archer’s dad injected me with that venom?” At my nod, he continued. “Well, apparently for another sin, it has the power to heal.”

Okay so that was kind of cool.

“How did she do it?”

I suddenly had this image of Celia’s tail poking out from the hem of her skirt, curled like a scorpions.

His face lit up like he’d been waiting for me to ask. “It’s in their blood,” he said excitedly. “During a fight, their nails elongate and the tips are poisonous. That’s how Quain took me down.” He taped the side of his neck. “His guards snuck up behind me and pricked me before I could sense them. But the venom that comes from their nails is a deadly dose, even for a sin. Celia had to cut herself. Her blood is green!” he said, eyes wide and shining. “And she used her fingers to force the venom into the cut. It was the only way it would heal.”

Suddenly
I
was green. The thought of someone pushing poisonous fingers inside my body made my stomach roil.

“That’s kind of gross,” I decided.

“We didn’t have a lot of choices,” He murmured. “You were bleeding too much…” he trailed off. His hand gave a tremor when he reached for the wet wad of toilet paper. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth. Long, dark lashes lowered over his stunning eyes as he pitched the wet ball into the toilet. It hit the water with a loud splash. “I tried giving you blood. I thought it might heal you, but you weren’t drinking and I’m sorry it’s not what you were hoping.”

I stared at him, trying to determine if he was a) being sarcastic, b) being serious, or c) being funny.

“You saved my life.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Yeah, it was gross, but I’m not angry, or anything.”

Eyes the vi
vid blue of electricity rose up, met mine, locked. Without ever breaking eye contact, he reached around me and snatched a facecloth off the rod behind me. He dampened it in the sink and moved towards me. His free hand went to my waist. I was maneuvered in front of the counter and pushed back into the ledge.

“
Good, because I would have let her pump concrete into you if it meant I wouldn’t lose you,” he said with an absolutely straight face. He touched the rag to my side. “She wasn’t going to. Ashton made her do it. She thought it was too late. But I knew…” He let the rag slide down my side and he stared at my injury. “It couldn’t be. I could still feel you. I knew you wouldn’t have given up that easily.” Those magnetic eyes lifted to mine. “You wouldn’t leave me.”

Damn it. How was I supposed to stay
focused when he was that close, staring that intensely into my eyes and slipping the fingers of his free hand along my side to cup my waist? I had no idea when he’d moved. His front was pressed right up against mine and I was breathing nothing but him. Not that I was complaining. If I had a choice between suffocating on air or the rich scent of him … who needed air? Clearly rationality was not at the top of my list. How could it be when his blood was a warm pulse beating against me? I could feel it in the thin bit of space between us. I could taste it when I slipped my tongue out and ran it over my lips. It was smooth and warm and sweet and I wanted it.

The rag in his hand was tossed aside, and in the same movement, before the rag even hit the inside of the sink, he had his top removed and I had all that
beautiful, golden skin pushed into my waiting hands. My nails anchored into the taut flesh of his broad back, a cat holding a mouse hostage and I jerked him harder against me as I pushed myself up to get a better line on the vein in his throat. It hammered fast and strong. My insides trembled, reminding me just how much blood I had lost.

He arched his head to the side, an open invitation to me. His hands closed around the back of my thighs and I was lifted and seated on the ledge of the counter. My kn
ees were drawn apart and his hips were filling the space in between as his hands moved up, took my hips and drew me forward.

This is wrong!
But even the voice in my head didn’t sound convinced. Not one inch of me really cared that we were in a motel bathroom, or that my father and stepmother were somewhere outside the door, or that I felt no need to stop. I knew I should. I knew I had to. This would be drink three. It would be my second drink from him in a matter of days. The intake was too close together. Too frequent. It was dangerous. I had to stop.

“Don’t stop.” His voice was low and husky and a whispered plea directly into my ear. “
Don’t.” He pushed me back until I was half slumped against the mirror. His lips grazed my throat. His hot breath washed over the skin, making it burn. Making me burn. “I need to feel you. Please.”

It was strange how quickly everything else seemed to melt away. I suddenly had
no worries. I didn’t care about anything but that moment and the man molding me between his body and the counter. My hands closed in the rich locks of hair tumbling free of their restraint and I dragged his hungry mouth away from my neck. I framed his face in my hands and peered into liquid ink spills spreading across the entire shape of his eyes, filling them until there was no color but black. His nostrils flared above curled lips.

I tightened my hold on him.
“Kiss me.”

With a vicious snarl that clawed down the length of my spine, he crashed his mouth to mine.
His hands curled into my shirt. Fabric tore. Cool air kissed exposed flesh a second before his hands were there, flattening against my back and lifting me to him. I slid further down the counter until I was nearly half off. My legs wound about his hips, the ankles anchored around his ribs.

“Fallon…” Desperation, pain and the same ravenous need
that whipped through me laced his plea. “Do it.” One hand fisted into my hair. My face was pushed into the curve of his neck. “Bite me.”

He didn’t even need to ask. I could feel my incisors pricking my bottom lip. I could feel the maddening need cutting a hole into my gut.
There was no turning back.

Warm, smooth skin broke beneath my attack. Delirium swarmed me
in a velvet cocoon of pure rapture. My body rose in a high that no drug in the world could ever provide. It burned and I burned. The world burned. Everything was fire, bright and brilliant.

In my arms, Isaiah
groaned my name. The sound was guttural and delicious. His powerful body shuddered and I was struck by how much I loved that, loved knowing I could make him, someone so big and strong, tremble. I loved knowing I was his weakness as he was mine. And when he whispered he loved me, I smiled as I ran the flat of my tongue over his marks, catching the last drops before the punctures vanished. But I continued, tracing the line all the way up his throat to his lips with the tip of my tongue. I nipped lightly on his bottom lip as I watched euphoria play across his face. His eyes were shut, his head thrown back. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

Heavy lashes swept up and I was
struck by the change in his eyes. The blue had returned, chasing away the consuming black. His chest rose and fell rapidly against mine. I could feel his heart drumming wildly.

“
Okay?”

I felt myself grin. “Don’t I look okay?”

His gaze darkened, the pupils pulsed. “No.” He lowered his head so his lips hovered inches from mine. “You look very distracting.”

I tipped my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “
And you look very—”

“Fallon?” A discreet, but very firm knock broke our moment.
I cringed as I recognized Ashton’s voice.

Isaiah drew back and gently lowered me onto my feet.
His arms remained securely fastened around me as I gained my footing, which I didn’t mind. Any day in his embrace was a good day. I would have closed my eyes and leaned into him if we had the time. Instead, I had just enough time to run quick hands through my hair, adjust my wrinkled, stained and slightly torn top and clean most of the blood off my face before Ashton got weary of waiting and let himself in.

His hazel eyes went from me to Isaiah and I busied my eyes and hands folding and unfolding the rag Isaiah had used to clean my side.

“If you are finished, we should discuss what to do next.”

I nodded. “We’re finished.”

Ashton ducked out and Isaiah, after scooping his top up off the ground, followed him. I took a moment longer to study my rumpled reflection in the mirror before joining them.

The group was back together. Archer sat at the table. Celia stood at the foot of the bed next to Ashton and Isaiah was standing next to the bed.

I exhaled.
This wasn’t awkward at all.
Boy did I miss my days alone with Isaiah. What happened in the bathroom would probably have been followed by us curling up in bed to watch TV, not getting scowled at as though we were children.

Looking at no one, I moved to the bed and sat.
I dragged the sheets up over my bare legs.

“
I think we can all agree that any plans we may have had regarding your escape are now null and void,” Ashton began, eyes on me. “This matter requires a more thorough investigation. In the meantime, it would be best if you were taken to a secure location.”