Page 15

Sweat drenches his face, highlighting a fresh welt.

He mutters something unintelligible and slips from consciousness again.

I curse and slide off the bed. After grabbing a wet cloth from his bathroom, I balance beside him and brush it along his cheek.

He flinches from the contact, and blinks back slowly.

“I told you not to help me,” he mumbles, but is too weak to fight me. At least he remembers me again.

“And I told you I wouldn’t. In public.” I have to know what happened and take his hand, but the vision isn’t recent. “That woman with the dark hair is your mother?”

He pulls away, and when his eyes close, I wonder if I’m losing him again. “You’re making a big mistake.”

“Maybe, but it’s already been made. It was made the first time I saw the truth.”

I focus on working the cloth over his skin to avoid the effect of his gaze. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Are you thirsty?”

After a pause, he nods. Relieved to offer meaningful assistance for once, I retrieve a cup from the bathroom and go for a second when he drains it.

“I don’t have food, but I’ll get you some.”

“I’m fine.” He seems to be waking from the stupor and shifts into a more elevated position on the pillows. He stiffens when I try to help him, and I retreat back to my place on the edge.

“The drugs they give you, do you know what they are?”

He shakes his head, swallowing another heavy gulp of water.

“They make me thirsty and feel like I got hit over the head with a brick. It takes at least an hour before I can interact with anyone. I can’t feel my left hand right now.

” He stares at the foreign object on his wrist, flexing his fingers slowly.

“You already seem better than when I came in, although your speech is still slow.”

Closing his eyes, he leans against the headboard. “I’ll reach a state of functionality soon. The drugs are meant to dull my abilities, not wipe me out. That would make it hard to cover up.”

“Right. They want to make sure you look like a drug addict, not a coma patient?”

His eyes flicker to mine before he settles back into the pillow. “Basically.”

“Does it help with the rest of the pain?”

He looks at me again, and I match his intensity.

Yes, I know about that too.

“Some of it.”

“Why don’t you run away?”

“Why aren’t you with the rest of the good little girls and boys?”

“I hate Ben.”

He studies me and his expression darkens. “He got impatient waiting for you.”

I hate the sudden knot constricting inside me and search for a distraction. “I’ll get you more water.” I grab the cup before he can stop me.

“That fucking bastard,” he spits out, slamming his fist on the bed.

His righteous anger tugs at me. “Nothing really happened. It was in a hallway.”

“It doesn’t matter where it was or how far it went. He’s a fucking predator and shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. But he walks on water here and knows it. Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

The risk no longer outweighs the need to be close, and I take his hand. This time, I get the answer I want. The room. The screams. God, it’s agony to watch, but I struggle to absorb every detail. He tries to pull away, and I grasp tighter, using my other hand to gain the advantage.

“Stop, Rebecca. Stop!” He yanks again, finally freeing himself. His glare speaks volumes as I fight to subdue my trembling.

“What was that?” I whisper in horror.

His gaze is hot as he shakes his head. “You can’t do that. I don’t want you looking in my head anymore.”

“I want to see the truth.”

“I already told you, that can’t happen.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What were they doing to you?”

“Help me up. I need to take a shower.”

“Daniel!”

He pushes me out of the way and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Please talk to me.”

“I don’t have to explain things you shouldn’t even know.”

He steadies himself for a moment before staggering toward the bathroom. I grab his arm to help, but the gesture throws him off balance instead. He crashes into the doorframe of the bathroom with a wince.

“I’m so sorry!” I rush out. “I just…”

He doesn’t look at me as he pulls himself up, jaw clenched. “You should know something. What you did just now? Stealing from my head? That’s not so different from what Ben did to you.”

My stomach drops, and I go cold. Dozens of angry retorts collect in my head.

Dozens of defenses. But none seem to fit the longer I wait.

The longer I consider the patient, wounded way he stares back at me.

All I can muster is a stammered apology that he accepts with a weak nod before closing the bathroom door.

After a few moments of silence, the thunder of water pounds the other side of the wall.

I let the sound wash over me, trying to imagine how I’d feel if Ben grabbed my hand to steal memories and refused to let go while I fought against him. Somehow it doesn’t seem the same as what he’d actually done, but the thought is more disturbing than I like.

Daniel’s silent suffering makes no sense to me, but his struggle to hide the truth should be enough of a signal.

Instead, I refuse to take his lead, negating his massive effort with one touch.

Then another. I steal visions I don’t understand and demand explanations I have no right to hear.

Explanations that only lead to more traumatic questions.

No, someone stealing from my head is not the same because I don’t have real secrets to take.

He’s right. What I’d done was a violation.

Still, no amount of regret for my act can erase the reality of what I saw.

I shudder at the memory, wondering how I can possibly honor my newfound remorse after this.

I was right to suspect his lie in that dark room, but I don’t blame him for hiding the truth.

Had I known what he obviously knew, I never would’ve left him.

I would’ve dug in like a fool and taken my chances fighting off the unknown enemy.

Daniel must’ve sensed it and refused to give me the option.

The crashing water quiets to a trickle, and a nervous flutter launches in my stomach.

Will he be pleased or annoyed to find me lingering here?

I don’t know, but I also can’t risk another indefinite separation without clearing the air.

The door creaks open, and he glances at me briefly before entering the room. My mouth goes dry.

The towel hangs low on his hips, exposing a body sculpted even more perfectly than I’d expected.

Does he spend every spare minute in the fitness room?

Beads of water drip from his hair and follow the paths of defined muscle carved over his skin.

The few simple tattoos on his back and chest suit him nicely, especially when he leans back in cocky amusement.

It’s like he’s holding that towel in exactly the right position to send inexperienced girls like me reeling.

My gaze devours him, soaking in every detail until…

I catch my breath at the ugly bruises.

He lifts a brow. “Are you going to watch me get dressed too?” His tone is lighter than before, and I burn hot. I should have left while I could. My brain doesn’t stand a chance against this. Not with the fire raging through places it shouldn’t be.

“No?” My response squeaks out as a question, and his rare grin melts me into a useless puddle. A You’re So Screwed anthem blazes through my body with reckless abandon.

He clears his throat, and heat floods my face as I turn toward the other wall. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

I hear movement as he sifts through the piles on the floor. “I don’t know why I bother putting the stuff back after they search my room. I might as well just leave this shit here.”

“This happens a lot?”

“At least weekly.”

“Did you ever get your necklace back?” My thoughts are nowhere near stolen artifacts, but I need anything to keep them away from the disaster they want. Want. Want. Want. So desperately want.

“Not yet. They’re holding it hostage. That’s why I went to group this morning and tried to attend morning activities. Not that either worked out well.”

“So you probably haven’t heard about afternoon group yet.”

“Heard what? You can turn around now.”

I do, and nearly trip at the sight. Faded jeans, still unbuttoned, have replaced the towel as he pores through his belongings, presumably in search of a shirt. Yep, the V is still on display. The tempting angles. The glistening tattoos wet with...

My heart hammers when he looks over and catches me gawking. A smirk slips onto his lips as he straightens to give me another full view. Jerk.

“That better?” he asks.

I roll my eyes, even crossing my arms for effect. “Are you saying you wouldn’t stare at me if I were standing half-naked a few feet away?”

His perfectly toned shoulder lifts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I’m willing to test it.”

I raise my chin in challenge and grip the edge of my shirt.

“I was kidding,” he laughs, grabbing my wrist to stop me.

The vision this time is neutral, breakfast at a restaurant.

Dry, mundane—perfect for ignoring. He doesn’t let go, and I accept it as a license to explore.

My fingers trace one of the oddly precise marks on his ribs, skimming gently at first. He flinches when I get too close, but allows my touch.

Leans into it, even, his muscles tensing in silent betrayal of how much he wants my hands on him.

As much as my need to touch? My eyes lift to his, begging the question my lips refuse to ask.

The blistering heat is painful now, pulsing in dizzying waves through my belly and beyond.

It wants more than a kiss. No restraints this time.

No forbidden room or pressure of clocks. It craves reciprocal hunger.

My blood pounds as he touches my face and searches my eyes.

He’s waiting for something, a noble hesitance that further enflames smoldering embers.

It’s too much, and I pull his head down, igniting an explosive kiss that knocks the air from my lungs.

Grabbing his jeans, I wrench him closer, intoxicated by the smell of bodywash and mint.

He’s just as desperate, though I have no way of knowing if he’s guided by the same addiction.

At the moment, I don’t care. I just want everything.

The heat and chills, the feel of hard flesh.

I take as much as I can in that brief contact, struck by an odd fear that we could never be close enough.

It’s a strange feeling. Wonderful. Terrifying.

But for once, there’s no doubt in my mind.

This moment is right, and I’ve just committed to letting go when he jerks away as fiercely as we’d come together.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

I’m devastated when he retreats several steps.

“Nothing. It’s…” He closes his eyes and shoves his fingers in his damp hair, furious for some reason.

“It’s okay. I want this.” I close the distance and reach for his fist.

He ducks away and stalks to a pile to grab a shirt.

“Daniel! I said, I want this.”

“So what? I want it too, but it doesn’t matter what we want.” I catch a hint of frustration and self-loathing in his heated glance before he directs it to the floor.

“Don’t do this. Don’t keep pushing me away. Please!”

My pleas clearly hurt him, but I don’t care. I need him. He’s the one who doesn’t understand.

He shakes his head, fists pressed to his temples. “Stop thinking that, Rebecca. You don’t need me. You’re just caught up in the emotional swing of what’s happening. We both are. We’ve only known each other for a few hours.”

I freeze. Stare at him in shock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand over his face.

“You can read minds,” I whisper. “That’s your gift?”

“I have to go.”

Not a chance.

I take up my new favorite place: stationed before his door. He stops in front of me but won’t look at me.

“Why are you so concerned? That’s amazing and, quite frankly, not so unusual.”

“Yes, I read minds, but that’s the tip of the iceberg.” It’s an apology, not an explanation.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t just read minds.” His eyes meet mine again. Fear. Regret. So many stories I’m afraid I’ll never know. “I could be you if I wanted to, Rebecca. Thoughts, memories, emotions, personality, everything. I can take your whole existence inside me.”

“But you don’t have to, right? You can control it?”

“Not without the drugs I can’t.”

And there it is. We stare at each other in the loaded silence.

After a long pause, he backs down and leans against the post at the end of his bed.

“The truth is I don’t mind the drugs. I’ve come to need it.

I can’t handle the constant bombardment.

It’s like this ocean of sensations and information crashing down on me all at once.

I drown in it. It drives me to blackouts and worse.

” Worse? I shudder as he blinks back an emotion I can’t read.

“I don’t want to know things. I certainly don’t want to know everything. ”

“What does that have to do with us being together? You were practically unconscious from the dose they gave you when I arrived.”

His jaw sets in a hard line, and I know I’ve lost. “The drugs only dull it, they don’t eradicate it, and when we’re close, in that way…

” He presses his palms to his eyes. “It’s like the drugs are powerless.

I see everything, feel everything. With other girls I don’t care.

I know it doesn’t mean anything and soon it won’t matter.

But it’s not like that with you. How can I do that after criticizing you for taking a single memory from me? ”

“But I don’t mind. I have nothing to hide from you.”

“I do. I don’t want this, Rebecca. I don’t want to know things anymore.” The pain in his voice tears at me, that broken rasp. It must be killing him to confess all of this. Gosh, how much is he hiding? “You should go before the others get back.”

I take his arm, hoping he has enough of his abilities to sense the compassion in my heart.

Part of me is frightened that we’ve grown so close in such a short time, but our last twenty-four hours was hardly a typical introduction.

Because of his abilities, he knows me better than I know myself, and I…

I still don’t know. What’s clear is that he’s right to stop this, even if it’s for entirely different reasons.

Feeling so strongly about anyone after any amount of time can’t be healthy.

“I don’t know if I’m a good enough actor to pull this off,” I say finally.

He glances over, and there’s nothing I like about his expression. “I am. And don’t worry. I’m good enough that you won’t have to be.”