The fire was finally blazing and the warmth was sailing up to me enough to start chasing away the numbness in my skin.
I realised my cheeks were wet and I jerked backwards out of sight, wiping my eyes and swearing under my breath. The last thing I needed was to expose more of my weaknesses to Kyan.
“It kills me that I can’t come up there and wrap you in my arms,” his voice carried to me.
“I don’t need to be taken care of,” I said, adding extra bite to my voice to counter the fact that he’d probably seen me crying. But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. I quietly wanted to be taken care of today. Just this once. But I’d never admit it.
“I know,” he growled. “But I wanna do it because you’re mine and I look after my things.”
My heart quickened at his words. There was something achingly sweet about them, yet entirely possessive and obnoxious too. “I’m not yours.”
“I disagree,” he said, deadly seriously.
I opened my mouth to retort, heat seeping through my flesh-
“Barbie,” Saint’s voice snapped through the air as sharp as a knife.
I leaned forwards and found him looking up at me in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants. “Are you dizzy?” he asked and I shook my head, a frown pinching my brow. “Nauseous?”
“No.”
“Blurry vision?”
“No.”
“Any ringing in your ears?” he asked and I shook my head.
He nodded satisfactorily. “Then you’re not concussed. Go to bed.”
“I don’t think I can-”
“Go to bed,” he commanded. “It’s not a request.”
I sighed, rising to my feet and moving over to his bed before falling down onto it with the comforter over me. I was surrounded by the scent of fresh laundry detergent. The smell was almost homely, inviting and I crawled further up the bed, nestling into his pillows, finding everything about it impossibly comfortable. He must have paid a fortune for this bed, it felt like an actual cloud hugging my body. And somehow, despite all the worry and fear that had hounded me since the moment we’d returned here last night, the darkness took me away and the blissful lull of sleep claimed me.
***
I woke to a repetitive shhhhck shhhck shhhck noise and folded the comforter back, yawning as I gazed across at the huge stained glass window on the opposite side of The Temple. Rain was cascading against the roof, the sound pulling at the chords of memories in my chest. Me and my dad camping in Virgina. The restroom was legit a hole in the ground in an outhouse thirty feet from the small campsite. It had rained one night and I’d run to it with my hood pulled up then listened to the rain tinkling on the tin roof while I peed. It was a stupid, weird kind of memory. And yet it was real and brought warmth to my bones. It reminded me of Dad and those days when I’d had someone to rely on constantly. I’d never realised that wouldn’t last.
I headed across the room to the balcony railing, my eyes falling on Kyan below who’d passed out on the couch, his arm slung over his eyes and the Xbox control balancing on his stomach.
Saint was on his knees, scrubbing the floor of the kitchenette, a bucket beside him as he laboured to clean every inch of it, his back muscles flexing with every push and pull of his arms. I’d never seen him so focused, his gaze fixed on his work, he almost looked like he was in a trance.
“Put that pizza back where you found it or I’ll beat your head in with a jar of marmalade,” Kyan slurred in his sleep and I released a breath of laughter.
“Does it please you to see me on my knees, Barbie?” Saint looked up with his features cast in shadow and my heart ticked faster.
“A little,” I admitted. “Though it looks like you’re enjoying it.”
“I take pleasure in jobs done thoroughly,” he said, getting to his feet and dropping the brush into the bucket. He rinsed his hands in the sink then set to work emptying out the bucket and cleaning that too.
The scent of bleach hit the back of my throat and a cough erupted from me. Saint fell statue still as he gazed up at me and I held my throat, sure it had just been the bleach. At least, I was fairly sure. I wasn’t overheated. Or was I?
I pressed a hand to my forehead, my breathing coming raggedly as I tried to work it out.
Stay calm. Deep breaths. Think this through logically.
Saint strode purposefully across the room to a low cupboard beneath a window. He crouched down and yanked it open, thumbing methodically through the contents before producing something from within it. Then he moved to the bottom of the steps and tossed it up to me. A thermometer skittered across the floor and I picked it up with my heart thundering in my ears.
“Hold it under your tongue for one minute,” he instructed.
I didn’t know if the tension in his voice was anger or concern. But it simply had to be the former. Saint didn’t get concerned about anyone or anything. He probably wanted to figure out if I was infected so he could plot his next move. Maybe I’d be the next body that ended up burned and buried in this school. Or whatever the hell they’d done with it. I hadn’t asked, but I’d smelled the smoke on them. Part of me didn’t want to know the gritty details. Because then it was real and I’d have to accept that they’d reduced that man to a pile of ash like he never even existed. And somehow that was worse than
