Wildfire

Chapter 38

38. Live

I spent the night dreaming of sentient clocks, the slow tick-tick-tick sound stalking me down alleyways and into dark buildings. I would stumble down corridors, searching for an exit or even a light switch, but as soon as I reached a door, it would open and Adalia would be standing there, her head tilted unnaturally to the side. Her head had been re-attached to her body with crude surgical staples but she was still very much dead, her silvered-eyes staring blankly at me.

My own eyes flew open, a scream exploding from my lungs before I could stop it. Panic surged through my veins and I blinked into the near-darkness, trying to make sense of the shadows. Less than a second later, the door to Diego's bedroom burst open and light from the hallway spilled inside.

Diego's silhouette moved inside the room, his actions quick and precise as he determined that there was no intruder in the room with me. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, scraping my slightly-damp hair back from my face. I felt like I was drenched in cold sweat, the image of Adalia burned into my retinas. Every time I blinked, she was staring back at me, mouth wide and gaping.

My arms started to shake and I rubbed them gently, trying to will some sort of heat into them. I was freezing — Diego's apartment was pretty warm, but it was like my body just wasn't reacting to any of it.

"Paige." Diego approached the bed cautiously, like he thought I was going to start screaming again. He lowered himself onto the bed next to me but when it looked like he might touch me, he hesitated. "You had a nightmare?"

I nodded emphatically, my teeth chattering a little. Our conversation earlier in the night tumbled through my head and I felt a lump swell in my throat, like a physical manifestation of my confusion, anger and misery. He watched me warily, the gold flecks in his eyes less pronounced. In the darkness, my mind started to imagine silver rings staining his irises. His skin greyed, his cheeks sunken —

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the image, and a sob escaped my mouth. He was there in an instant, his fingers closing around my shoulders. He rubbed my arms gently, like he was half-afraid of hurting me, while a flicker of panic crossed his face.

"Paige, you're freezing," he murmured, his voice tinged with alarm.

"In the end, we all win..."

My mind was heavy with sleepy misery. In the semi-darkness, it was easy to slip into that half-awake state, where my head was several paces behind the rest of my body, for my thoughts to be completely reliant on what I was feeling — and what I was feeling was miserable.

Memories rose in the back of my mind, hazy images of his face, and the slide of the shot glass as he pushed the vodka in my direction. "It'll calm your nerves." The strange, warm sensation that settled in the bottom of my stomach when I realized he was taking care of me.

The way he was taking care of me now.

I stared at him through watery eyes, feeling the warmth of his hands penetrate my skin. I didn't know what I was doing, not really, but somehow I found myself leaning forward, my back straining slightly as I covered the distance between us.

When my lips touched his, I felt him stiffen, his hands slowing to halt at the crook of my elbows.

Then, so slowly I almost missed the movement — before I could have second thoughts — I felt him kiss me back. His mouth pouted gently, his lips shaping themselves around mine hesitantly, as though he was afraid any sudden movements would send me running.

I felt a spasm of panic squeeze my chest as my mind started to process what was happening, but it was swiftly overridden by the sharp-tipped edge of desperation. I really, really didn't know what I was doing. My body had completely taken over, instinct landing in the driver's seat.