Our Fatal Failings (Twisted book two)

Chapter Twenty-One

My world spins. I lose track of all time as I spin further and further out of control. My thoughts are all fuzzy and most of my words, incoherent. It’s not like I speak much anyway, my voice is too hoarse, painfully hoarse.

When I open my eyes, my bleary, grimy eyes and sit up, I’m sore all over. My legs ache, my neck pinches with each direction I move as little bite marks are tugged open.

I smell food and turn towards the source. I find him waiting to feed me from his hand. Too tired to object, I let him drop fresh grapes into my mouth and spoon-feed me soup. I sigh and turn onto my side. “How long has it been?”

“I don’t know,” he says, pulling me closer. He doesn’t seem exhausted, I don’t know how. I’m tired to the bone and though my pulse still beats in an exhalitarting hum and my fever has not abetted, I’m willing to ignore it all and fall asleep. 

“Does it still hurt?” He asks into my hair.

 I curl my toes against his warm feet. “No.” His presence surrounds me like a weighted blanket. 

Imani. Imani, something isn’t right. 

It speaks in the back of my mind. I swat it away. 

He lies his head on my chest. I let my fingers roam through his hair. Butterflies swirl in my stomach. 

“You’re not tired?”

“Of you?” He moves his mouth over mine.  “No, never.”

I don’t know how it happens again. But soon we’re gripped into that tight lock again, skin on skin, silk on silk, and I’m clinging onto him like he is my salvation. 

The emotion is raw on his face. “Love you...love you...love you.” 

And the world fades back to what it was. A cycle of wearing ourselves to exhaustion before sleeping it off, waking up and eating the food left at the bedside. Who even brought that in and when? 

His hands roam, making themselves known on every piece of skin on my body. And the places left alone burn until his hands return. 

I’m only humming now. I’m tired, tired, tired. But he’s so close it’s like I’ve pulled him into my soul. And it feels like I’ve touched his soul. It’s explosive. Yes I am, tired, tired, tired. But the sleep will have to wait. 

“Perfect.” The word rolls off his lip. “You’re perfect. Do you know that?”

They float past me. I only smile and nod and close my eyes again. He grabs my face and angles it towards him. “Look at me.”

I can’t stand it. Looking him straight in the eye while I touch his soul this way is too personal. That voice in my head tells me not to. Because then this is too intimate. Not just...not just…

I open my eyes and face him as his pink lips capture my mouth. 

I’m weak all over.

“You’re perfect,” he says again. 

An explosion rocks the room. He lifts his head and for the first time in a long time, they’re blue. Slowly, he unfolds himself from me and I’m hollow. I grab for him. “Where are you going?”

He pushes me back, eyes yellow again. “Stay here. Wait for me.”

Another explosion rocks us again. It’s close, it’s coming from downstairs. “You’re going to leave just in the middle? You’re not going to finish? Or let me finish!”

He runs his hands through his hair, looking conflicted. “Just wait. I’ll be back.” He rolls off the bed and pulls up his pants. “Wait right there for me. Don’t move, don’t even leave that bed. Keep it nice and warm for me.”