Touching Fire (Touch Saga)

by Airicka Phoenix

  “No!” he gasped, his voice unsteady. “Don’t stop.”

  “I’m hurting you.”

  He shook his head. “No. It feels incredible.”

  Carefully, I returned my hand to his skin and watched as he jerked and his eyes slammed shut. The same ripple of power surged off his skin, through my palm to anchor somewhere deep inside me.

  “What’s happening?” I half moaned, half shouted.

  Eyes still shut, Isaiah shook his head. “I don’t know.” His face came down until his forehead rested on my shoulder. “I can’t stop.” His lips turned to my neck and I swore as they burned into my skin. My fingers fisted around the ones laced through his. “I don’t want to stop.”

  His free hand jerked away the sheets separating us and went straight for the hem of my shirt. They slipped under without pause. I had no sense left in me to protest. I wouldn’t even if I had. My nails cut into the taut flesh of his neck as his fingers grazed my stomach. The muscles beneath his touch convulsed and I whimpered.

  Touch me! Touch me! The voice in my head chanted, desperate and starving for the full contact of his flesh against mine. But he was in no hurry as he traced the curves of my ribs and littered my entire body with goose bumps with just the tips of his fingers.

  His breath rushed hot over the hammering pulse at my throat. “God, I want you, Fallon.”

  My mouth opened to ask him what the hell was stopping him, when a soft, very discreet cough alerted us to the newcomer to our party.

  Isaiah jerked back and we turned to the figure darkening the doorway leading into what I slowly began to realize was my room. I was in bed, though I had no recollection of how I got there, or the events leading to the reason why. It was all a blur of colors and sounds, something vague and distant as though it were part of a movie I’d seen once but no longer remembered.

  Ashton moved deeper into the room, still clad in slacks and a white dress shirt. His hands remained tucked casually in his pocket as he moved to stand between the bed and the door.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Frustrated, I wanted to say. Annoyed. Restrained. Hot. So hot. But I couldn’t think about that. Focusing on it hit me with a powerful need that made me want to jump Isaiah. It wasn’t an unusual thing, my desire for him, only it had never been like this. It had never filled me with such a hunger that I felt half crazed with it. It was taking all my strength plus some to keep from pulling him down with me onto the bed.

  “Confused,” I said at last, not fully lying, but opting for only a partial truth. “What happened?” I looked to Isaiah for the answer.

  He was watching me with those darkened eyes. No. Not just watching. He was devouring me, stripping away fabric, flesh and bone to bore deep within my very soul with a scrutiny that seared in all the places it grazed. Every inch that he’d touched tingled under the phantom caress. I bit back the sound housed in my throat. I couldn’t be sure what it was. A moan maybe. But I couldn’t trust that I wouldn’t beg him to do something that Ashton would probably, mostly likely not approve of. I had to look away.

  Ashton was speaking, saying words that were moving his lips, but I couldn’t for the life of me make sense of. He looked so solemn. I tried to tune in.

  “Unexpected,” he was saying when his speech finally sunk home.

  “What was?” I asked.

  Ashton blinked. A flicker of something, maybe irritation passed over his face when he realized I hadn’t heard a thing.

  “I said that was interesting, if not highly unexpected.” He glanced from me to Isaiah. “Would either of you care to explain what happened?”

  Not really.

  Ashton turned his eyes on Isaiah when it became apparent that the only thing I wanted was for him to leave.

  “Isaiah?”

  Isaiah found a spot on the bedcovers and stared hard at it. My heart went out to him. How difficult it must have been for him to be torn between his loyalties for Ashton and whatever he felt for me. I couldn’t imagine. But I felt a surge of guilt for putting him in that position.

  Ashton sighed, realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere. “I want to help, but I can’t if you won’t talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I murmured, wishing he would just drop it.

  His eyes narrowed. “You attacked a member of this household, Fallon. You attacked Isaiah and he…” He shook his head, disbelief on his face. “He let you. I don’t understand how this is possible or—”

  My neck gave an audible pop when I snapped my head around to stare at Isaiah. Concern and rage curled inside me as I let my eyes touch him for signs of injuries. Not that there would be any.

  “I hurt you?” I demanded, my voice giving no room for bullshit. I needed to know. I had to know if I was a danger to him.

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

  It was only then that I noticed the large, dark stain running down the left side of Isaiah’s body. The black t-shirt appeared two-toned as though one side was damp and there was a faint blush on that particular side of his neck where the skin had smoothed over. But I knew there had once been twin gashes there where my fangs had torn into the beautiful flesh. Had he been any other person, a normal person, he would have been dead. Instead, his rapid regenerating abilities had saved him from the monster inside me. But that wasn’t what crippled me with horror.

  “Oh God, no!” My sweaty palms squished over my mouth, muffling the rest of my tearful moans. “Isaiah, you didn’t—”

  Isaiah’s fingers wrapped around my wrists, gently but firmly pulling them away. “You had to.”

  “No!” I threw him off me. “You know we can’t do that! You know what will happen if … why would you do that?”

  “Because I would rather see the entire world go up in flames than see you hurting!” he shot back. “You have no idea how it feels to know you’re suffering and still continue to refuse me. Damn you if you think I would ever just sit back and do nothing.”

  “That wasn’t your choice!” I jerked back the covers and sat up on my knees. “You know what will happen if I keep…” I stopped abruptly, remembering at the very last second that we weren’t alone and this conversation was leading to a place I was trying to avoid around my father.

  Ashton wasn’t stupid, nor was he deaf. He honed in on everything we said and turned them on me.

  “What is happening here?” he demanded. “I don’t like secrets, especially one that could potentially hurt someone.”

  “You don’t like secrets?” I stared at him, appalled and angry. “All I’ve had my entire life was secrets. You promised me answers and I still have nothing. So if I’m keeping secrets, it’s because I leaned from the best.”

  “Fallon.” Isaiah touched my hand and it took all my will power not to snarl at him.

  “Don’t!” I jerked away. “This is your fault. I had it under control—”

  “You almost killed someone!” he snapped, my frustration mirroring on his face. “If I hadn’t been there, Delphi would be dead.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You lost control,” he said. “You attacked her. Ashton couldn’t get you off.”

  I looked towards Ashton, not for confirmation, but to search his face for signs of disgust. There was nothing though, only a quiet deliberation that made it seem all the worse because I had no recollection of the events. I barely remembered anything except leaving my room to search for Isaiah and coming across Odalyn.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Delphi is fine … shaken, but fine,” Ashton answered, nothing in his tone, posture or expression suggesting he was grossed out by the sight of me. “Isaiah arrived in the nick of time.”

  “I am so sorry!” I rasped, disgusted with myself. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” I looked to Isaiah. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

  Ashton shook his head. “That isn’t—”

  “You need to lock me up somewhere,” I decided firmly. “I’m not safe.”


  “No!” Isaiah tensed beside me, his hands twin fists of anger. “No one will be taking you anywhere. I won’t let that happen.”

  I looked to him, his beautiful features blurry behind my tears. “I almost killed someone. I would have if you hadn’t been there.”

  “But I was there!” he argued harshly. “I will always be there.”

  “For how long?” I cried, throwing myself off the mattress. “You’re not my shadow. I don’t want you giving everything up to follow me around.”

  His face could have been carved from raw stone, but his eyes … they sparked with a warning that should have frightened me. “What exactly do you think I would be giving up, when everything that means anything to me is standing right here?”

  Damn him. He was making it impossible not to throw myself into his arms, or smack him. The corner of his mouth quirked and I shot him a partially annoyed glower before turning to Ashton.

  “I’m sorry about Delphi.”

  He seemed to be considering my apology. Maybe because I wasn’t being very forthright with answers, he didn’t believe my sincerity, but I did mean it. Despite what Delphi had done to me, I would never retaliate. Truthfully, I wasn’t big on revenge. I’d avoid the person if I could, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to get even. No. That side of me was reserved only for when Isaiah was in danger. It was the only time I truly wanted to hurt someone and actually did. Of course there was no way Ashton would know that, because he didn’t know me. I was as much a stranger to him as he was to me and that made things complicated.

  “Are you well enough to talk?”

  Curious, I nodded. “Can I clean up first?” I asked.

  “Of course.” He gestured to the door across the room as though I didn’t know where the bathroom was in my own room.

  No one spoke as I ducked into the washroom and shut the door behind me. I considered taking a shower, but I didn’t feel comfortable taking a shower when there were people outside the door waiting for me. So I washed my face, brushed my teeth and hair, then stepped out to find no one had moved in my absence. Isaiah continued to stand by the bed, studying the floral pattern on the duvet and Ashton stood by the door, watching Isaiah. I had no idea what either was thinking, but the tension in the room was palpable.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, hoping to lighten some of the pressure.

  “The library,” Ashton replied evenly.

  “Am I in trouble?” I couldn’t help wondering just what my punishment would be for attacking someone, but it couldn’t be good.

  “We’ll discuss it.” He turned to the door, pausing with one foot over the threshold to glance back. “Isaiah, why don’t you remain here?”

  I shook my head. “He should come with us.”

  “It’s all right, Fallon,” Isaiah said, coming up behind me.

  He didn’t touch me and there was a little over a foot between us, yet I felt him along the length of my spine like he was pressed there. The bond between us pulsed white hot, an angry wound demanding comfort. But I couldn’t trust myself to touch him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to let go if I did.

  For most of my life, the pull between us had been a familiar thing. I had always known when he was near and had wanted him even then, even when I hadn’t even seen his face. But everything had changed the moment I drank his blood for the first time. The bond had strengthened. We were on drink number two and I was half mad with the need for him. It was a roaring buzz between my ears and an ache deep inside me that screamed at the very thought of not being near him.

  I didn’t like it. I wasn’t one of those girls. I wasn’t clingy or needy. I wasn’t the sort who needed to be around the guy she liked twenty-four hours of the day. Maybe that was why I didn’t push that Isaiah join us on our talk. Maybe it was because I needed that space, needed to know I could walk away, that I wouldn’t fall apart just because he wasn’t with me. And how I loathed it.

  Every step I took was like having another dagger thrust deep into my gut and twisted. I wasn’t even at the door and the weak part of me was already begging for me to stop. It was with no permission from me that my head turned in his direction, perhaps to see if he was suffering as much as I was.

  My first mistake.

  Seeing him standing there, in the center of my spacious room, watching me with the look of someone whose best friend just died before his eyes, was nearly the final straw. I nearly folded. I nearly turned and ran back to him. How I wanted to. Then I reminded myself that this wasn’t me. It was the blood. It was the generated chemicals tainting us. It was Garrison. This was what he’d meant when he told us that the more I drank, the more addicted I would become to Isaiah. This was how he would turn us, force us to become monsters.

  Well F him. I mentally flipped him off. I wasn’t going to let that lunatic dictate my life. Pain or no pain, I would prove to him and myself that I was the only one in control of my body. If I wanted to stay with Isaiah, I would because I wanted to, not because I was being forced.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I told Isaiah, keeping my voice firm.

  He gave me a half smile. “I’ll be here.”

  I nodded. “Be careful.”

  “You too.”

  With nothing left to say, I followed Ashton from the room.

  One step.

  Two steps.

  Three steps.

  By the sixth step, I had to stop. I couldn’t do it. My limbs were trembling. My gut had been torn from my body and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. And all that was nothing compared to the feeling of being skinned alive. I had to look down to make sure I wasn’t a walking sack of meat. I touched my arm. Still there. But it was numb. My skin was numb. It was like touching someone else. No sensation at all. I swore under my breath.

  Ashton stopped and turned to me. “Is something wrong?”

  I started to shake my head, only to have the corridor swing wildly with me.

  “Fine,” I croaked, squishing my eyes closed. I forced myself to straighten and take a deep breath.

  For a moment, it worked and I was elated. Maybe there was a way I could beat this. Maybe I just needed to focus and breathe, because the more air I dragged into my lungs, the calmer I felt. Then I glanced back to find Isaiah walking towards me, his face a mask of raw agony and I swallowed audibly.

  We were so screwed.

  "Isaiah?" Ashton frowned at him, clearly not amused by the perpetual delay.

  Isaiah dampened his lips. "Just going to walk you to the stairs."

  Ashton's glower deepened. But he thankfully didn't protest as he turned and started away.

  "This is so not good," I muttered, following at a much slower pace.

  Isaiah exhaled. "I know."

  "What now?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know."

  "There is no way Ashton won't think something’s up if you're following us around."

  "We need to tell him."

  I stared at him. "Are you crazy?"

  "You don't think he'll believe us?"

  I took his arm to stop him.

  My second mistake.

  Touching him was how I always imagined a crack addict would feel during that first hit after a long, agonizing break. I moaned. My eyes closed. My insides seized like I’d been pitched off a roof. I forgot everything except how warm his skin was, how the veins roped beneath the taut flesh and how his scent was this rich, alluring musk that clawed into me. I was imprisoned in him.

  I must have swayed. I found myself caught in his chest, trapped by the familiar enclosure of his arms, my face squished into the soft fabric of his shirt. My fingers were still locked around his wrist, our skins fused together. Sewn. I couldn't let go.

  “Fallon.” Low and laced with a pain-ridden plea, his quiet murmur raked across my cheek. The heat of it had the skin tingling and my heart racing. His lips skimmed the corner of mine. “Let go.”

  Didn’t he think I was trying? Did he think I somehow liked being frozen to him? Okay, maybe I
did, but not like this.

  “I can’t,” I rasped into his collarbone.

  The hand pressed into the small of my back fisted into my shirt. “We need to tell him,” he growled. “He needs to know.”

  “I’m afraid,” I confessed weakly.

  “I’ll be there,” he promised into the top of my head. “You won’t be alone.”

  What choice did I have? Sooner or later, Ashton would begin to wonder why I couldn’t let Isaiah go. Sooner or later, he would ask why I ripped into his throat and drank his blood. What if later turned out to be too late? What if too soon meant our deaths?

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Isaiah said as though reading my thoughts, which he probably was. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

  Gingerly, I peeled myself out of his arms and stood with an inch between us. My hand continued to remain clasped around his wrist. I couldn’t change that. My fingers were locked at the knuckles.

  “Together.”

  Ashton was confused. It was clear to see on his face as he watched us walk towards him. His gaze drifted from our grim expressions to the tight grip I had on Isaiah’s wrist and narrowed. I didn’t know what to say once we stood before him. Thankfully, Isaiah didn’t seem to have that problem.

  “There’s something we need to tell you.”

  Chapter 13

  Aside from Isaiah, I had never seen anyone move as fast as Ashton did at that moment. He flew at Isaiah before either of us could even blink. Isaiah was torn from me and the pair slammed into the wall, knocking over an enormous vase sitting on a spindly table. The piece of expensive looking pottery shattered across the floor with a deafening crash that did nothing to hinder the murderous rage behind Ashton’s snarl.

  “What have you done?” he roared.

  I raced to them and grabbed Ashton’s arm. “Let him go!”

  “What did you do?” Ashton said again, holding Isaiah to the wall by his throat.

  “He hasn’t done anything!” I cried.