The Darkest Touch
Page 68

We’re never doing that again.
The words haunted him.
He applied the herbal salves Lucien brought to Keeley’s raw, oozing skin and poured medicine down her throat, then made sure she soaked in oatmeal baths. She remained in a constant state of delirium. Today he’d entered a new level of hell when she had begun thrashing atop the bed, leaving smears of blood on the sheets.
“Help me understand,” Lucien said, pacing on the other side of the room. “You’ve touched her before? And then, after she healed, you touched her again, willingly, knowing this would happen? That her life would be forever ruined?”
Disease laughed inside his head.
Nothing but a rabid dog, remember? His time is coming.
But the guilt took Torin deeper and deeper down the pit of despair. “She isn’t a carrier. She suffers, and she heals. But she isn’t a carrier.”
“Torin—”
“I love you, my man, but my relationship with Keeley is not your business.”
“It is,” Lucien insisted. “I know you. Have known you for centuries. Have watched you spiral every time you’ve touched someone and had to watch them—and others—die.”
“She’s not going to die!” He slammed his fist into the mattress.
It bounced, and Keeley moaned.
“Sorry, princess.” He smoothed a gloved hand through her hair, careful not to snag on the tangles. “I’m so sorry.”
Her lids parted, revealing eyes dull and feverish, staring blindly. “When will they grow back? I need them to grow back.”
“What, princess? What do you need to grow back?” It shredded him, seeing her like this. In the past, she had refused to sleep in his presence because it would have made her vulnerable. Now? She was as vulnerable as a newborn babe.
Because of me.
He would never forgive himself.
“My hands. I need my hands.” Tears cascaded down her cheeks.
I made her cry.
“You’ve got your hands, princess. I promise.”
“Have to remove my feet next. Have to escape the shackles. My hands,” she ended, curling onto her side and sobbing.
His gaze jerked up to Lucien, but he quickly looked away; didn’t want to see the reflection of horror in his friend’s eyes. Keeley had been bound inside that prison and had somehow found the strength to remove her hands, and then her feet, to free herself.
But she’d still been trapped.
The heart he’d regrown wept inside his chest. Sickness churned in his stomach. He had to let her go, didn’t he. No more staying with her, “protecting” her. No more playing with temptation—playing with her.
Lives were at stake, yes. Cameo’s. Viola’s. Baden’s. Everyone he loved, really. But on the other side of the coin, Keeley’s life was at stake.
If he had to flip that coin, she would win. No question. No fifty-fifty odds.
It was a huge revelation, but one he couldn’t allow himself to probe too deeply. Or why even the thought of losing her made him feel as though he were sinking deeper into an ocean of acid and the only thing waiting at the bottom was death. Because honestly? His feelings didn’t matter. He had to do what was best for her. For once. Her past was filled with pain and regret. He couldn’t fill her future with the same.
He pressed against the coolness of the wall, his knees threatening to buckle. Gaze burning, he focused on Lucien. “Go home. Call me every day. I’ll let you know when she’s well. Then...I’ll leave her here.” He’d more than proven he couldn’t be trusted around her. She looked at him and he wanted her. She asked for his touch...his kiss...and he gave it to her. Hell, she didn’t even have to ask—if she neared him, he was going to reach for her.
He forgot the consequences. Or they ceased to matter. Or both. It was selfish of him, and it was cruel.
No more.
He would be cold, and he would be methodical. But he would end things. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t follow me.”
There had always been a countdown for his relationship with Keeley. It had finally zeroed out. He just had to deal.
Lucien frowned at him. “We need her. Cameo—”
“I don’t care!” he snarled. He’d made the mistake of explaining the extent of Keeley’s power, and his friend was hell-bent on using her. “We’ll find another way.”
Silence.
Torin slid down the wall. He would never again witness her change colors. Never again watch her morph from Sugar Plum Fairy to Summer Fling Barbie. Never again talk to her or laugh with her. Never again hold her.
I want to hold her.
What if they found the Morning Star the very day she healed? What if they failed to find it? What if they found it in twenty years?
What if he could find it on his own and then return to her as a healthy, whole man?
No more what-ifs. Their association had to end. Today.
He looked at this decision from every angle, found no flaws. Her life was more important than his happiness, and that’s all there was to it.
One day she might even thank him for this.
“Torin,” Lucien said, his gentleness far more than Torin deserved.
He held up his hand. “Don’t. Just...call. I’ll see you when she’s healed.”
At first, Lucien gave no reaction. Then, he nodded reluctantly. “Until then.”
* * *
KEELEY SENSED THE tension in the room before she ever opened her eyes. She jolted upright, ready to do battle. The fact that no one loomed over her, about to attack her, astonished her.