The Darkest Touch
Page 50
Torin’s image filled her mind, overshadowing the confines of the hated chamber...the hated memory. She saw his shoulder-length white hair. His catlike green eyes. The smoldering sexiness that always made her mouth water. Like now. Ugh! That was a lot of water. An embarrassing amount. Choking her... Can’t breathe, have to breathe...
“Swallow.”
Cool liquid washed down her raw, shredded throat and into her equally raw stomach.
“Good girl,” he said.
Something warm smoothed across her overheated brow, offering comfort. Not his hand. Surely not. He refused to touch her.
Touch her. The words resonated in her mind, prodding her. He hadn’t touched her, not at first, but she had touched him. Then he had grabbed her and given her the hottest kiss of her life. She’d become sick. Horribly sick. All because of his demon.
That’s right. The demon.
Hate that demon.
Anger burned through her, hot, so hot, and the cushion beneath her began to shake.
Will murder that demon.
“Not this again,” Torin muttered. A second later, she was floating—how? why?—but still the shaking continued.
The sound of clattering dishes registered. Thumping logs.
Oh, yes, she thought coldly. Disease will suffer for all he’s done....
Torin cursed, and she went tumbling. She...rolled down a hill? Grass and dirt filled her mouth. Dizziness struck her.
When she stilled, she struggled to pry open her eyes. Had mud been smeared across her eyes? She blinked, Torin coming into view. The real Torin, looming over her.
His smile was grim. “Welcome back, princess.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
TORIN REELED. Keeley had survived another illness, and as quickly as she’d sickened, she had recovered. Within an hour of destroying the cabin, in fact, she was steady on her feet, totally racer ready, with no lingering side effects.
The first time, he’d understood. Others had recovered, too, even if they’d become carriers. But this second time...
How had she survived? He’d asked for her opinion, and her answer had been the usual, “Hello. Red Queen. Super powerful.”
Maybe. Probably.
Would she survive a third? A fourth?
Considering the bargain they’d made, she might be willing to risk it. But he wasn’t. Not anymore.
Heard that before.
Yeah, but I mean it this time.
Motions clipped, he led her through the forest. He remained on the lookout for vengeful giants. Dust from the ruined cabin trailed them. Keeley stayed behind him, quiet, and the silence unnerved him.
“Do you hate me?” he asked.
“Hate you? Why would I hate you?”
“Do you seriously have to ask?”
“Obviously. Because I did.”
“The demon,” he said on a sigh. “The vomiting.”
“Um, perhaps you’re forgetting I touched you.”
No. He hadn’t forgotten—would never forget. Her touch had proven just how base his need for her could become, how consuming...how, when he finally got his hands on her, nothing mattered but pleasure.
“Let’s not talk about that.” He searched for someplace safe to make camp, and when he thought he picked up the sound of footsteps he backtracked, checking for prints he never found.
Desire must be rotting his brain.
And, damn, the hot and sticky air had to be baking his insides. The weather had gone from autumn, to winter, to just plain hell, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with Keeley. Her mood did not match the million-degree temperature.
“I’m eighty-sixing my shirt. Don’t come within ten feet of me until I put it back on.” He wrenched the material over his head, then draped it around his neck to catch the sweat trickling down his temples. “I mean it.”
Keeley raked her gaze over his naked torso, and damn if it didn’t feel like a caress. “You suck so bad,” she grumbled. Maybe her mood did match. “I’m overheated, too, you know. I think my internal organs have become some kind of stew.” She ripped the sleeves from her shirt and threw them at him.
Her sleeveless state made him think about the way she’d studied her arms and legs when she’d first woken up. Whatever she’d seen—or hadn’t seen—had relaxed her. When he’d asked her why she’d done it, she’d said, “Like I’m really going to give you any ideas.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Stupid double standards,” she said. “If I were to remove my top to cool off, I’d be a tease, just begging for ravishment.”
“Cool your jets, princess. I’d never make you beg.” But isn’t that exactly what I’ve done?
“Are you saying you’d just give it to me for free?” she asked.
“I’m not saying anything.” If this kept up, they would end up where they’d started. In trouble. “But why risk insect bites? Let’s find you a coat. Maybe a fur one.”
“As if any insect would dare come near me.”
“Still. Can’t hurt to be careful.” He dug inside the backpack. “I know we’ve got an extra top in here somewhere.”
“Try to make me wear it and I’ll tie you down, cut you open and let the animals use your organs as snack packs!”
“Everyone’s got to eat.” He pulled his empty hands out of the pack. “Unfortunately, we’re out of clean clothes.”
“Why don’t I peel the skin from your body? You can be my coat.”
“Swallow.”
Cool liquid washed down her raw, shredded throat and into her equally raw stomach.
“Good girl,” he said.
Something warm smoothed across her overheated brow, offering comfort. Not his hand. Surely not. He refused to touch her.
Touch her. The words resonated in her mind, prodding her. He hadn’t touched her, not at first, but she had touched him. Then he had grabbed her and given her the hottest kiss of her life. She’d become sick. Horribly sick. All because of his demon.
That’s right. The demon.
Hate that demon.
Anger burned through her, hot, so hot, and the cushion beneath her began to shake.
Will murder that demon.
“Not this again,” Torin muttered. A second later, she was floating—how? why?—but still the shaking continued.
The sound of clattering dishes registered. Thumping logs.
Oh, yes, she thought coldly. Disease will suffer for all he’s done....
Torin cursed, and she went tumbling. She...rolled down a hill? Grass and dirt filled her mouth. Dizziness struck her.
When she stilled, she struggled to pry open her eyes. Had mud been smeared across her eyes? She blinked, Torin coming into view. The real Torin, looming over her.
His smile was grim. “Welcome back, princess.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
TORIN REELED. Keeley had survived another illness, and as quickly as she’d sickened, she had recovered. Within an hour of destroying the cabin, in fact, she was steady on her feet, totally racer ready, with no lingering side effects.
The first time, he’d understood. Others had recovered, too, even if they’d become carriers. But this second time...
How had she survived? He’d asked for her opinion, and her answer had been the usual, “Hello. Red Queen. Super powerful.”
Maybe. Probably.
Would she survive a third? A fourth?
Considering the bargain they’d made, she might be willing to risk it. But he wasn’t. Not anymore.
Heard that before.
Yeah, but I mean it this time.
Motions clipped, he led her through the forest. He remained on the lookout for vengeful giants. Dust from the ruined cabin trailed them. Keeley stayed behind him, quiet, and the silence unnerved him.
“Do you hate me?” he asked.
“Hate you? Why would I hate you?”
“Do you seriously have to ask?”
“Obviously. Because I did.”
“The demon,” he said on a sigh. “The vomiting.”
“Um, perhaps you’re forgetting I touched you.”
No. He hadn’t forgotten—would never forget. Her touch had proven just how base his need for her could become, how consuming...how, when he finally got his hands on her, nothing mattered but pleasure.
“Let’s not talk about that.” He searched for someplace safe to make camp, and when he thought he picked up the sound of footsteps he backtracked, checking for prints he never found.
Desire must be rotting his brain.
And, damn, the hot and sticky air had to be baking his insides. The weather had gone from autumn, to winter, to just plain hell, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with Keeley. Her mood did not match the million-degree temperature.
“I’m eighty-sixing my shirt. Don’t come within ten feet of me until I put it back on.” He wrenched the material over his head, then draped it around his neck to catch the sweat trickling down his temples. “I mean it.”
Keeley raked her gaze over his naked torso, and damn if it didn’t feel like a caress. “You suck so bad,” she grumbled. Maybe her mood did match. “I’m overheated, too, you know. I think my internal organs have become some kind of stew.” She ripped the sleeves from her shirt and threw them at him.
Her sleeveless state made him think about the way she’d studied her arms and legs when she’d first woken up. Whatever she’d seen—or hadn’t seen—had relaxed her. When he’d asked her why she’d done it, she’d said, “Like I’m really going to give you any ideas.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Stupid double standards,” she said. “If I were to remove my top to cool off, I’d be a tease, just begging for ravishment.”
“Cool your jets, princess. I’d never make you beg.” But isn’t that exactly what I’ve done?
“Are you saying you’d just give it to me for free?” she asked.
“I’m not saying anything.” If this kept up, they would end up where they’d started. In trouble. “But why risk insect bites? Let’s find you a coat. Maybe a fur one.”
“As if any insect would dare come near me.”
“Still. Can’t hurt to be careful.” He dug inside the backpack. “I know we’ve got an extra top in here somewhere.”
“Try to make me wear it and I’ll tie you down, cut you open and let the animals use your organs as snack packs!”
“Everyone’s got to eat.” He pulled his empty hands out of the pack. “Unfortunately, we’re out of clean clothes.”
“Why don’t I peel the skin from your body? You can be my coat.”
