Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5) (31 page)

“Let me!” Isaiah closed the remaining few steps until he practically stood between the needle and her.

Garrison paused, visibly considering, then shook his head. “You might not know how. I better do it.”

“I can,” Isaiah said. “They taught us at the Academy how to administer injections during medical training.”

Garrison hesitated, but with a resigned nod, he passed the syringe to Isaiah and took several steps back.

Isaiah turned to Amalie. His gaze met hers.

“I won’t hurt you,” he murmured, reaching for her arm.

Out of reflex, Amalie flinched. His touch became gentle. He stroked her forearm lightly with his fingertips, releasing a series of goose bumps across her flesh.

“Don’t move, okay?”

She could only nod, watching paralyzed as he shifted his body closer, blocking her arm from Garrison who watched from a few feet away. With his gaze still locked with hers, he raised the syringe. Amalie tensed. She squeezed her eyes shut and twisted her face away.

Seconds passed, each drumming as loud as her heartbeat as she waited to feel the sting, to feel the liquid rush through her veins. But when nothing happened, she opened her eyes, turned her head just in time to see Isaiah pull the needle from his own arm. Her eyes widened. Horror rushed through her. Her hands lifted, reaching. He stepped back, giving his head a slight shake.

His face was flushed and he was breathing hard.

“Woozy,” he mouthed, indicating with his eyes that she should pretend to be.

He turned away just as Garrison stepped up to see.

“How do you feel?” he asked Amalie.

Trying not to look at Isaiah as he stumbled to the door, Amalie swallowed hard. “Woozy,” the single word came out broken, like she was about to be sick, which she felt like she would be, not knowing what would happen to Isaiah, if he would be all right.

Garrison nodded slowly, taking a step forward, hands outstretched towards her face, to check her pupils. He never got there when across the room Isaiah bent over and threw up.

“Isaiah!” Amalie was up before she could remember she was supposed to act disorientated and dizzy. Thankfully, Garrison was already crossing to him and didn’t notice.

“I’m okay!” Isaiah panted, still doubled over. “I never liked needles.”

Garrison chuckled, smacking Isaiah in the back. “I was the same way when I started. The idea of poking people with it…” He gave a shudder. “But you did wonderfully for your first time.”

Isaiah straightened, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “Thank you, sir.”

Still beaming proudly, Garrison reached around Isaiah for the doorknob. He wrenched it open and glanced at the man standing on the other side.

“Derek, can you help Amalie back to her room? I’ll be by to check her progress.”

Derek stepped into the room, careful to avoid the puddle of vomit as he advanced on her. His shrewd gaze took her in carefully, but he didn’t comment, nor did he touch her as she slipped off the table herself.

Amalie stared at Isaiah, her heart in her throat in fear.

“Derek, you will inform me of any changes you see in her,” Garrison said as they shuffled out of the room. “The dosage was very minimal, but I will check on her in the morning.”

Derek inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

As soon as the door closed between them, Amalie ran to Isaiah just as he sagged against the wall, half slumped to the ground. His entire body convulsed as though a thousand watts of electricity coursed through his veins. His knees shuddered, nearly folding beneath him.

Her fingers closed around his shirt front as if she could somehow singlehandedly keep him upright. “Isaiah! Look at me!” Her breath lodged in her throat when he tried and failed to lift his head. “Isaiah, look at me!”

“A…Am…” His voice rasped, broke.

A sob caught in her throat. “Why? Why did you do it?”

He raised his head, his face glistening with sweat. His eyeballs rolled and he had to blink to focus them. His head fell forward again and he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Because I love you, Ams.”

Amalie

Amalie refused to let Isaiah return to his own room. She refused to leave him alone, even when he staggered into the bathroom and closed the door between them. She sat outside the door and whispered what she hoped was soothing nonsense from the other side.

“Do you remember the time you had the flu and thought you caught my…my crazy?” She sniffled in between the chuckle that slipped out. “And I hit you? I felt so bad afterwards.”

On the other side of the door, Isaiah retched. She wasn’t sure if her rambling was helping him at all, but it was all she could do

“You were my best friend, too.” A sob caught in her throat. “You were the only thing that kept me going, kept me sane. I could handle anything my father did so long as I knew you were going to come back. You…” She trailed off, biting her bottom lip when it trembled. “Don’t you dare die on me, Isaiah.”

Silence met her. She pressed her ear against the door, listening for the rustle of clothes, the scuffle of feet, vomiting, breathing…anything!

“Isaiah?” She was scrambling up to her knees. Her hand closed around the doorknob and she wrenched it open.

The pungent stench inside slammed into her like a physical force. She recoiled, feeling her own stomach roil and her eyes water. Her hand instinctively flew to her face, covering her mouth and nose simultaneously.

“Isaiah?” She crept inside, still on her knees.

He sat next to the toilet, back against the wall, head back, eyes closed. His face was white and pasty. There were dark, red circles beneath his eyes and around his nose. His hair was matted to his skull and he was trembling uncontrollably.

Still alive! He’s still alive!

“Isaiah!” She went to him. Her hands rested on his shuddering chest, curled into his damp shirt.

His lashes fluttered opened. The pupils swallowed all of the blue so it looked like black pools peering back at her from a landscape of snow. Her heart convulsed.

“Isaiah?” She touched his face, wincing at the heat radiating off his skin.

At her touch, he shivered. His eyes closed. “So…soft!” he breathed, turning his face into her palm. He inhaled. “Sweet.” His face turned towards her, the look in them hungry. His fingers closed around her waist and she was dragged forward to straddle his lap. Her squeak of protest melted into a gasp of surprise and pleasure when his face found the underside of her jaw. “So pretty,” he groaned into her skin.

Against her will, her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her head dropped back, giving him free reign to melt the column of her throat with his lips. It was only when she inhaled deeply that reality punched her in the nose.

“Isaiah, it stinks in here!” she choked, stuffing her nose and mouth behind her hand again.

He nipped at her chin with his teeth. His hands wandered all over her, rubbing and stroking and pushing away pieces of fabric to find skin. He groaned almost deliriously when his palm touched her bare thigh.

“Feel so good!”

“Still stinks!” she said, struggling to get away from his tempting hands. “And so does your breath!”

With a single, unsteady movement, he somehow got to his feet with her still wrapped around his middle. He held her there despite her protest and stalked out of the bathroom.

“Isaiah, wait!” But it was too late. He dumped her on the bed and made quick work climbing over her. Panic swelled up inside her, replacing the single moment of normalcy. “Wait! Stop!”

He recoiled, jerking back in surprise when she shoved against him, twisting her body simultaneously. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Derek snap out of his chair, but she was more concerned about the weight crushing her into the mattress, the body burning her with its heat. Too many unwanted memories of being restrained, hurt coiled through her until she was sure she’d be sick.

“Get off!” she pleaded, using the comforter to try and drag herself free.

Isaiah scrambled off, lost his balance was tumbled off the edge of the bed. The crashing thud of his body propelled her upright. She hurriedly sat up and peered over the edge to find him just lying there, staring up at the ceiling.

“Isaiah!” She hurried down beside him, grabbed his shirt front and tried to drag him up. “Are you okay?”

Isaiah looked down at Amalie, his eyes a little too bright. “You are so beautiful.” His fingers traced her eyebrows, her cheek, the line of her nose, her lips. “I’ve seen hundreds of girls, but not one was ever as beautiful as you.”

Amalie arched a brow. “Hundreds, eh?”

She managed to heft him up onto the bed once more, panting at the effort.

“Hundreds,” he confirmed, rolling onto his side.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” she muttered.

But he wasn’t listening. He was busy molesting her bedspread. She was all but forgotten as he crawled up her bed and flopped face down on the mattress, nuzzling her comforter.

Amalie watched him with concern from a distance. He didn’t seem sick anymore. If anything, he seemed fine, except for the behavior.

“What did he take?”

She almost jumped, startled by Derek’s forgotten presence. She turned to him, her fingers anxiously knotting together. “I don’t know. It was meant for me, but he…”

“Do you remember the name?” Derek asked, still watching Isaiah.

Amalie shook her head. “It was mentioned, but it was so long. I’d never heard it before.”

Carefully, Derek rose out of his chair and crossed to the bed where Isaiah was making face down snow angels on top of her sheets. He bent down and grabbed Isaiah’s face, holding him still as he peered into his eye.

“You have soft, girly hands for a dude,” Isaiah said, smirking.

Derek jerked back, a frown darkening his face. “I think he’ll be fine.”

Amalie wished she was as confident. “I think it started with an L,” she said, worried eyes never leaving Isaiah. “Isaiah knew what it was when my father mentioned it. He didn’t seem pleased.”

A frown turned Derek’s eyebrows downward. “Mr. Garrison gave it to Isaiah?”

Amalie shook her head. “No, he…” she trailed off, wondering if she was saying too much. Derek still worked for her father and if word got back that Isaiah took the shot meant for her…her father would be so furious. “I don’t know what happened.”

Derek sighed. He opened his mouth, prepared to say something, but seemed to think better of it and snapped his mouth shut and turned away.

Relieved that he hadn’t pushed, Amalie went and perched on the edge of the bed. She didn’t touch Isaiah, but watched him as he explored all the different textures surrounding him. He seemed so enthralled. She wondered if it would have been the same for her. Would she have been so completely out of her mind? Guilt wrenched inside her at the knowledge that Isaiah was suffering because of her. A small part of her pointed out that he didn’t look like he was in pain, but she wasn’t sure she believed that. How could he not be when he’d lost control of his own body? Isaiah wasn’t like this. Whatever was in that syringe had taken away his will to act like himself and that was probably worse than being sick in her opinion.

“Isaiah?” she whispered, lightly touching the back of the leg closest to her.

He jerked, rolling onto his back. He lay sprawled, arms and legs strewn wide apart, staring at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” she asked tentatively.

“Everything is so…shiny!” he murmured, awed. “I think the walls are breathing.”

Amalie swallowed hard. “They’re not. You’re just not feeling well.”

He shook his head. “I feel incredible!” He must have meant it because the next second, he’d grabbed her and dragged her onto the bed with him. He positioned her stiff body so she was on top and had all the power of escaping if she wanted. “I feel so alive!”