Читать книгу The Darkest Touch - Gena Showalter - Страница 15

CHAPTER SIX

MY FAULT.

The words echoed in Torin’s mind as he built a fire, and it was like taking fists to the chest. Keeley sat on the ground, watching his every move. He knew, because he could feel the hot ping of her gaze drilling holes in his back. Since “the Incident,” she hadn’t attempted to fight him. She’d gone still, quiet.

Soon she would sicken. Just like all the others. And he would curse his very existence.

He sought a sense of numbness as he dug through the pack he’d hidden behind a tree, withdrawing every bit of leftover medicine. A few antibiotics, fewer antivirals. Cough suppressant, antihistamines, decongestants. Painkillers. Even vitamin strips that would dissolve on the tongue.

He tossed the antibiotics and strips at her, plus a canteen of water. “Take two of the pills. Suck on one of the strips. They’ll help stave off the infection.”

In a perfect world, that would be good enough. But their world wasn’t even close to perfect.

No response from her.

If he had to force her to—

He heard a rustle of clothing, a gulp of water being swallowed.

Good girl. He wasn’t sure how he would have reacted to forcing her...to putting his hands on her again. There is no woman softer.

Guilt pricked at him, as determined to ruin him as Disease. It was never far from the surface, always looking for a moment to spew its poison. Next would come sorrow...rage. At Keeley. At himself. Mostly himself. He’d wanted her touch more than he’d ever wanted anything.

While Disaster had screamed at him to get as far away from her as possible, he’d pretty much raced to the razor’s edge of temptation, telling himself Keeley was so powerful she would be immune. That he could finally have everything he’d ever secretly craved.

But it was a lie. It was always a lie.

Why had he encouraged a battle with her? Why had he sought to comfort her after her panic? The only possible outcome had happened. What a shocker.

Now Keeley would pay the ultimate price for his weakness, and he would be responsible for either killing one of the only remaining Curators or creating another carrier. And while in that perfect world he wished he lived in a female carrier would mean he’d finally have someone to touch and to hold and to kiss and to please, without any further consequences, that wasn’t how it worked. If Torin touched her a second time, he would pass on a different illness.

The demon didn’t just specialize in one ailment, but countless.

Disease often changed strains with the times. The black death of the thirteen hundreds had given way to the cholera pandemic of the eighteen hundreds. Made it harder for the world to combat the evil, he supposed. For Torin to combat it.

“Has anyone ever not gotten sick after tangling with you?” Keeley asked.

The hope in her voice...he crumbled, utterly agonized. “No.”

“But I’m, like, super powerful.”

She wasn’t just super powerful; she was the most powerful person he’d ever come across. “Sickness feeds on certain types of power. How else do you think it grows?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip, fiddled with the bottle of pills. “I feel fine.”

“That won’t last.”

Shoulders wilting, she said, “How long do your victims usually survive?”

“About a week. Rarely any longer.” He settled on the other side of the fire. Not sure I can hold myself together. “How did you get an actual human body without a human in it?” he asked, hoping for a distraction. “Curators were—are—spirits.”

A flare of ire in her expression, the world around them trembling. “Someone gave it to me. Why?”

He ignored her question. “Who gave it? And how?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Wistful, she added, “I used to be able to commune with animals, you know.”

Not actually surprising. So had every other fairy-tale princess. “I’m sure you and your animal friends had some real stimulating conversations.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “The body changed everything.”

“You can’t leave it behind?” Something that might have saved her.

“Hardly. I’m fused to it.” Her gaze sharpened on him. “Why are you still here? Why aren’t you abandoning me to my hideous fate?”

He chose levity over brevity. “There’s no way I’d abandon you when we’re about to play my favorite game. Incompetent Doctor and Uncooperative Patient.” But he failed to achieve the desired results.

She frowned at him. “So...you’re going to help me? Again?”

“I’m going to try.” But would it be enough? It hadn’t been with Mari.

He gnashed his molars. Human versus supervillain. Big difference. This was a whole new ball game.

Look at me. Hoping for the best-case scenario even though I know better.

“Why?” she asked. “I’ll only repay you with pain and agony, and eventually death.”

She’d stated the words so simply, as if they were merely discussing her toenails—which glinted like diamonds. He almost smiled. Almost.

“I understand your reasons for wanting to harm me. Your beef against me is legit, and you’ll do whatever is necessary to make things right. Well, as right as they can be, considering the depth of my crimes. But I’m not going to leave you out here to suffer—” to die “—alone.”

He experienced a keen sense of loss he didn’t quite understand. At the thought of her death? Why? He barely knew her. She wasn’t a friend. He should feel the guilt, yes, but nothing more.

“But why?” she insisted. “You warned me. I even chose to suffer this way. Remember?”

She claimed to value truth, so that’s what he gave her: the truth as he knew it. “I’m sorry Mari’s dead. I’m sorry I touched her. Sorry she sickened and died such a terrible death. I’m sorry you lost a dear friend. Sorry I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from her...or you.” The sting in his chest proved far more lethal than a blade or claws. “Especially when I knew nothing good would ever come of it. I’m so sorry for everything, and yet there’s nothing I can do to change anything. The past is the past. Over, done. Like you, I can only plow ahead and do my best to make things right.”

She turned her head away. To hide tears?

The sting inside him sharpened. But he welcomed the pain, deserved it. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.”

“Never!” she snarled, her hackles raised.

Better.

She inhaled with great force, then exhaled with greater force. “Perhaps I need to walk away from you and go after Cronus. I’ll have time to think.” She dragged her finger through the dirt, creating a symbol he didn’t recognize. “I heard him bargain with Mari. After he attempted to bargain with me. He knew she would die, and despite my protests and willingness to change places with her, he let her go to you anyway. He must be punished.”

“Cronus is dead.” And the world was far better for it. “He was decapitated.”

“Who would dare deny me my vengeance?” she gritted, her shock surprisingly adorable.

“It wasn’t intentional. My friend took him out on the field of battle. She’s now leading the Titans.”

Blink, blink. “A woman?”

He nodded. “The mate of a Lord of the Underworld.”

“And the Titans haven’t refused to serve her?”

“No. Why would they?”

Awe in her eyes. Envy. “Because...just because!”

There was a story there. Hell, there were probably a lot of stories, and he would have liked to hear each one. “What of your people?” he asked. “Any others out there?”

“As far as I know, I’m the only pure breed left, the remaining Curators having mated with fallen angels, thinking it would make them stronger. But all they managed to do was dilute their bloodline and die out.”

An honest answer, though it was offered with zero hint about her emotions. Did she miss the others? Mourn their loss?

And another question: Why did he wish he could hug her?

Dude. Hugging could lead to kissing and kissing to sex. Wasn’t like it was rocket science.

He wouldn’t be the oldest virgin in history anymore. Finally he would know the feel of a woman’s inner walls. The hot clench. The wet clasp he doubted his own hand had ever quite been able to replicate.

He gripped the tree root at his side in a bid to hold himself away from her—can’t do it, can’t take her. Even though he still tingled where she’d touched him...

Would giving in to his attraction to Keeley really be so terrible? Especially now? The worst of the damage was already done. She would die anyway, and—

Stop!

He couldn’t risk giving her two diseases at once. There’d be zero chance of survival. If there was any chance at all.

“Why didn’t you mate with a fallen angel?” he asked.

“I already had a fiancé, and by the time we split, the truth had been realized. The fallen angels were poison to the Curators, spreading their curse of darkness. Oh, and I was locked away.”

Something hot and dark shot through him. “You were engaged?”

That’s what I focus on?

“Yes,” she said. “Why?” She threw a twig at him. “Is it some big surprise that someone once found me so appealing he wanted to keep me forever?”

“Sheath the claws, wildcat. I meant no offense.” He couldn’t call that hot and dark thing burning inside him jealousy. There was no reason for him to be jealous. He’d call it...indigestion. Because that’s what it was.

What kind of man had won her heart? The kind who had fawned over her, surely. As soft and delicate as she appeared, Torin could well imagine her as some whipped sap’s favorite sexual trinket, to be taken out and played with whenever the mood struck. And it had probably struck often.

His indigestion grew teeth and gnawed at his organs. “Where’s the guy now?”

“Don’t know. Probably somewhere he can behead puppies and gut kittens without anyone complaining.”

The relationship had ended poorly. Got it.

“Look,” she said, and sighed. “I appreciate the conversation. I really do. I’m not ever going to be your biggest fan, but I’m willing to admit you’re not the hellhound I thought you were. Which is why I still think it’ll be better if we part ways and resume our war at a later date.”

“Stay. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m not sick.”

“We’ve covered this. You will be.”

“No. I’m telling you, I’m too powerful. You’ve never met anyone like me, so you can’t know how I’ll react to—” A gut-wrenching cough interrupted her denial. She hunched over, the force of it too great for her body, and covered her mouth.

Minutes passed before she quieted. She held out her trembling hands. Spots of crimson were smeared over her palms.

Snow began to fall once again, and this time, bright flashes of lightning accompanied it, streaking the sky. He’d realized the weather responded to her moods and figured this must be a sign of fear and pain.

She met his gaze, shook her head. “No. No.”

Yes. “You’re infected.”

* * *

IN LESS THAN an hour, she was hacking up rivers of blood.

In less than two, she was ravaged by fever.

She tried to tell him something, saying things like “rain,” “drown” and “minions,” but the meaning was lost on Torin. The only thing he understood was “don’t...kill.”

He’d told her he would kill her if she became a carrier. And he should; it would be best. For her, for the world.

Then why try to save her?

Because he couldn’t shake the urge to hug her. Because he owed her.

Because he couldn’t have her, ever, if she died.

He punched the ground, flinging dirt.They would deal with the carrier thing if and when it became necessary.

As gently as possible, he plied her with medicine. He used some of the canteen water to keep her brow cool and poured the rest down her throat. But by the middle of the next day, the water was gone and she needed more. Her cough worsened, and her fever intensified, growing dangerously high. The woman who’d been powerful enough to topple a prison for immortals weakened until she could no longer even writhe in pain, her chest barely rising and falling, her breaths wheezing...sometimes even rattling.

The death rattle. He knew it well.

But the most telling sign of impending doom? About twenty feet around her, the grass had withered. Nearby trees had slumped over and dried up, leaving nothing but brittle leaves and blackened bark.

At least the snow had stopped. Small consolation.

“Just hold on, princess,” he said, knowing she couldn’t hear him but compelled to speak anyway. He picked her up, careful to ensure their clothes remained a constant barrier.

But even without skin-to-skin contact, she managed to deluge him with endorphins, wave after wave of the most intense bliss he’d ever known saturating him. He hardened. He throbbed.

Need her hands on me again.

Enough! He carried her through the forest, heading for the clearing he’d shared with the Terrible Trio. They would fight him. They wouldn’t understand why he was helping a woman so determined to kill him. He barely understood it himself. But they weren’t there, and it looked as if they’d been gone for a while, saving him the hassle of combat.

Torin eased Keeley onto the ledge of the spring. He dipped a rag into the frigid water before draping the material over her sweat-beaded brow. Her teeth chattered, and every few seconds she convulsed, but the fever never abated.

He picked her up and eased her into the center of the pool, dress and all. The liquid rippled and lapped all the way to her chin...but the heat she projected actually warmed the water. Frustration and fear ate at him.

“Hades,” she mumbled, her voice little more than a broken rasp. “Mine...”

A terrible stillness came over him. Hades, the former ruler of the underworld? A male Torin wouldn’t trust with a stick of gum, much less a life? Pure evil? The father of William the Ever Randy and Lucifer, king of the demons?

Although, to be fair, Hades wasn’t William and Lucifer’s natural father. He’d claimed them through some sort of shady, supernatural adoption. But to be even fairer, that kind of made him worse.

Keeley called for that guy? Seriously?

“Don’t,” she begged. “Please, don’t do this.”

Hades had hurt her? No big surprise, and yet Torin cracked his knuckles. Whatever was done to her will be revisited on the male a hundredfold.

“Shh.” In an effort to calm her, Torin smoothed a gloved hand along the curve of her jaw. This isn’t for me—it’s for her.

Lying to myself now?

He marveled at the delicacy of her bones and had to fight against a thousand more waves of bliss, each headier than the last. “I’m here. Torin’s here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, princess. I won’t let it.”

“I love you. You love me. Our wedding...please.”

He stiffened, several facts becoming crystal clear. Hades was the fiancé she’d mentioned. She’d actually planned a future with the guy. Had begged for it.

Jealousy. Yes, he felt it. Jealousy, and not indigestion. He could deny the truth no longer. However, he would not tolerate such an emotion. Keeley wasn’t his. She didn’t belong to him, and never would. Because even if they worked out their problems—not likely—he would never be able to satisfy her. What he had to offer would never be enough.

He’d learned that the hard way.

To watch discontent settle in her eyes? He would rather die.

Experienced enough humiliation on that front.

“Helpless,” she whispered. “So helpless. Trapped.”

“Shh,” he said again. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Torin?” Her head tipped toward him. Her arms floated along the surface of the water, brushing against the curling ends of her hair. Wet, the strands appeared honey-brown rather than blue.

Will look so pretty wrapped around my fist. I’ll angle her just right, take her mouth with a skill she’s never before encountered and—

Nothing.

He pushed out a ragged breath, only then realizing the water had cooled significantly.

Had her fever broken at last?

He lifted her out of the spring and eased her onto a patch of grass, tense with dread as he waited for the blades to wither. When one minute ticked into another and they remained lush and green, he relaxed.

His gaze slid over her. The color of her skin had vastly improved, the fever flush of red gone. But her dress was plastered to her skin, outlining every magnificent curve.

Tensing all over again...have to look away. But no matter how diligently he tried, his gaze remained glued to her. Her breasts were luscious, in need of kneading. Her nipples were beaded, practically begging to be sucked. Her stomach was concave, allowing water to settle inside her navel.

Water he could lick away.

Stop this. Wrong on every level.

Her legs were long and lithe, the perfect length to wrap around his waist. Or his shoulders. She had no scars or tattoos, her skin like mile after mile of cobalt silk.

The promise of sex seethed from her.

His already frayed control threatened to snap.

No! He scrubbed a hand down his face, at last breaking the spell she’d somehow woven. Yeah. Blame her. Idiot! What the hell was wrong with him? She was sick, possibly dying, and he was scheming on her?

I suck.

Get her well. Then get rid of her. Afterward he could continue his search to find Cameo and Viola with a clear conscience.

Like the Terrible Trio, Viola had been incarcerated in Tartarus at the wrong time and had received one of the leftover demons. He shuddered. She’d gotten Narcissism. The worst of the worst. Viola was a flat-out nightmare to be around, but she was also part of his family.

A man protected his family.

Mari had been Keeley’s only family, he thought. And I took her away.

He owed the Curator more than vengeance. He owed her another family. But there was no way he could introduce a carrier to innocents. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel with a rocket-propelled grenade.

His friends, on the other hand... They knew how to deal with carriers. They’d been dealing with Torin for centuries, and not one of them had ever gotten sick. They were experts at evading him. Maybe they could be Keeley’s family—he wouldn’t have to kill her.

The idea...did not repel him.

She threatened their safety.

Yes, but Torin knew she wouldn’t hurt them. He’d seen the core of honor underneath her rage.

She might even find a measure of happiness with the group. Two of his friends were dating Harpies, a race of females known for causing massive bloodshed...and for making grown men pee their pants in fear. That had to be dream best-friend material for Keys. And, not that it mattered, none of the males would make a play for her; everyone was taken.

Well, except for William the Ever Randy, who lived with them, but the guy had been watching his ward, Gilly, a lot more intently lately. Girl was a human and due to turn eighteen very, very soon.

Torin wasn’t sure what would happen between the two the day of her birthday—he just knew something would happen.

Not important. Keeley would probably protest the move to Budapest. Probably? Ha! But he would have to find a way to convince her to do it. Because there was no better solution...and no other way he could keep her.