Page 46 of Burn

Thankfully, Lex helps by asking, “Where are the clothes you got me?”

I stand, spinning to face her, and I must move too quickly because she jumps back a little, clutching the skin-sack of cat tight to her body. I’ve done a fucking number on this girl. Instead of walking past her to the bedroom, I signal with my hands and say, “They’re in the bedroom. I can show you, if you’d like.”

She nods but looks nervous, so I keep my steps slow and give her the widest berth possible in the small apartment. The bedroom is nearly as bare as the rest of the apartment. There is one dresser, and the bed is on a simple frame. I move to the dresser first, opening the top two drawers I reserved for the items I picked up for her. She leans forward but keeps her distance, standing closer to the door. I then step to the closet, showing the few things I thought needed hanging. They look miniature next to my massive work uniforms and the singleblack suit I’ve had for about five years — a suit I’ve only worn once, on the second worst day of my life.

My pulse pounds painfully in my chest as I zone out, looking at the closet, forgetting she’s standing behind me. When she speaks again, my heart does the craziest loop-de-loop, “I’d really like to shower. Would that be okay?”

Would that be — ?

“Lex, I know this situation is beyond fucked, and something we probably need to,” I swallow thickly, fighting to say the words, “Discuss. Please, make yourself at home here.” She nods, but doesn’t look at me, so I add, “There are towels in the bathroom. Shampoo and conditioner. I just went with what the girl at the store said was good.”

Without a word, she releases the cat from her sweater and walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. There’s no mistaking the ‘click’ of the lock. When the shower turns on, I walk back to the couch, allowing myself to lie back, my body flushed by exhaustion. I tell myself I won’t fall asleep, breathing in the sweet smell of shampoo that crawls under the bathroom door. But the minute I sling my arm across my eyes, blocking out the light of day, it’s over, and sleep claims me in seconds.

The air is thick, humid, and muggy. I instantly know where I am, and that, without question, this is a dream I don’t want to have. I reach my hand to my opposite arm, attempting to pinch myself awake. It’s no use. I’m still on the couch. Well, I’m on a couch. This one is battered and worn. The seat cushions bow under my weight, creating a cocoon that’s tough to rise out of.

The smell of warm vanilla wafts by, like cookies, so I turn my head just as long, dark hair flits past the doorway. Nope. No way. She’s not here. I fight my way off the couch and walk toward the hall, my footsteps echoing through the room.

‘This is a dream,’ I remind myself.

But it feels so fucking real, and the fear of her being here pushes me further down the darkened hall. With each step, the walls shift, blurring from the bland beige the administration thinks keeps us calm and complacent, to a deep ruby red, almost black. It glistens and gleams, and eventually I reach out, running my fingers along the shiny surface. When I pull my hand away, my fingers drip with blood, and as the droplets fall away, they rain up to the sky, forming little rubies.

I watch them, following their path. There’s no ceiling, and the night sky greets me. The ruby drops take their place among the stars. As I lower my eyes, something enormous catches my attention. It takes a moment to realize the crow is perched on the edge of the wall, cocking its head back and forth, tracking my movements. Its beak opens wide as it crows, “You’re losing her.” When I don’t respond, it adds, “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You and me, both,” I sigh, pressing forward into the darkness.

By thetime the sounds reach me, I’m walking blind. It’s as if a bucket of black paint has been thrown onto the world, and I can’t see a thing, but I can hear it. At first, I hear the giggle, light and sweet, and I move faster, needing to know the source. At the far end of the darkness, I see a door swing open, light pouring out. Nash steps into the nothingness, arms folded across his chest, a smile plastered on his face, and says, “Hurry up, man. You’re missing the show.”

He moves back into the room, and I quicken my pace, jogging toward the door. The sharp contrast between the dark corridor and the bright light in the room temporarily blinds me. I blink and raise my hand to shield some of the light, but it takes a moment for the scene to come into focus. Even in this nightmare, my brain knows this isn’t right. In the center of the room, Lex is dancing, her body swaying seductively, her hands pushed into her long, dark hair. It would be a welcome sight if that’s all I could see, but it’s the rest that causes me to scream out, “No!”

Her body is covered in flames. They flick in greedy gusts toward the night sky. Her beautiful, tattooed skin bubbles and blisters. Pieces fall away, landing on the body lying twisted and prone under her feet. Nash’s body. He’s almost entirely still, with the occasional, shallow breath. His face is unrecognizable, but as always, the snake tattoos give away his identity. Guards surround them, observing the madness with satisfied, smug grins on their faces. With the exception of the swirling girl covered in fire, this is how I found him. I walked into the maintenance room, looking for a mop to clean up a mess, and stumbled onto the guards enjoying their handiwork.

My breathing comes in short gasps, catching the attention of Burgess, who turns to look at me, repeating the words he said that night, words that have haunted me ever since, “You can turn around, walk the fuck out of here, or join him. It’s your choice.” This time, he replaces ‘him’ with ‘them’, and panic explodes through me, and my heart pounds in my chest. It’s a dream, but I can’t fucking breathe. I shift my focus from him, back to her, and I’m paralyzed.

I watch her burn.

I hear her voice at the same time I feel her hand on my face, “Come back to me, Adrian.”

My eyes fly open, and I scramble up, sucking in lungfuls of air that feel too thin. My shirt is damp, my head spins, and it takes a few seconds for my brain to extinguish the fire on her skin. In my chest, my heart slams against my ribs, feeling bruised and broken.

I did nothing.

Her hand gently pulls my face back to look at her. Her eyes are full of concern, searching mine. My apartment comes back into focus, cold and empty, but there’s her. Her wet hair clings to her skin. A white towel is wrapped around her body. I know she must think I’m completely insane, but I reach out, grabbing her arms, and turning them over, searching for injuries. She gasps, surprised by my frantic movements, but doesn’t pull away. Her clean scent fills the room, chasing away the lingering, putrid smell of burning flesh. My heart slows, and I take my first full, deep inhale. The rush of oxygen makes my head swim, and without thinking, I pull her forward, wrapping my arms around her.

Her body is tense and trembles slightly, and I tighten my hold, needing to confirm she’s here, that she’s safe. The angle is all wrong, though. She’s twisted awkwardly, and I need her closer, so I reach down to grab her legs, shifting her to straddle me. Goosebumps flood her skin, and I rub the pad of my thumb across her thigh. In this position, I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, I can feel the way it quickens, the way her breathing changes. The need to see her is impossible to deny for one more fucking second, so I lean back slightly, and desire fires through me when I see the towel she’s wrapped in hasfallen open, revealing her smooth stomach, covered in flower tattoos, and her perfectpussy.

Fuck.

Equilibrium

Lex

I feel the moment it shifts — the energy between us, from the chaos of whatever haunts his dreams to the undeniable chemistry between us. One minute, he’s frantically searching my body, looking for God knows what. The next, his hold is more intentional, demanding. If I were a stronger woman, I’d stand up and walk away, but it’s impossible to ignore the way heat charges through me.

His hand moves to the small of my back. It’s so large that it nearly covers the entire area, fingers digging in as if to anchor me in this place. His other hand trails up my arm until it stills on my neck, ensuring I don’t turn away. Warm, dark eyes search mine, then drop to my mouth and his focus has me licking my lips, suddenly feeling starved.

I will walk away.

I allow my hands to fall from his face, placing them against his chest.

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