Page 45 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
“You look pale,” I offer as an explanation.
“Uh, thanks?”
Taking a step back, I grab my bag from under the bed, and she sits up, wincing. Her hair is a matted mess, and the ends are crusted in blood.
“You need to change your shirt,” I say, tugging my own shirt over my head. Something brushes my side, and instinctively, I lash out, my hand going to her throat. I manage to stop myself before my fingers close around her windpipe.
She looks up with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says.
I release her. For the first time in my life, I’m ashamed of my reaction. “No. It’s…I’m…”
“It’s okay,” she says. Holding my gaze, she once again reaches out, slowly, bringing her fingers to my side, and I tense but don’t react. “You were burned.”
“It’s from training. Electric glove.” I tug a clean shirt over my head, and she retracts her hand. Ducking her chin, she hides her face from me.
Placing a finger beneath her chin, I lift her face, seeing a solitary tear clinging to her cheek.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she says.
“Why?”
She sniffs, shaking her head. “You don’t even see it, do you?” Her eyes lock with mine like she’s searching for something, unable to find it. “How wrong that is.”
“It made me strong.”
“If making someone strong means breaking them first, I’d rather be weak.”
I frown, unable to form a response. She looks at me like she would save me if she could, but I don’t need saving. She isn’t the hero in this story either.
She’s close, too close. I can feel the heat of her body, smell the lingering scent of her lemon shampoo mixed with the metallic hint of blood. Every cell in my body becomes aware of her all at once. It’s like…gravity.
Taking a concerted step away from her, I clear my throat. “I’m going to get food.”
She says nothing as I open the door and step outside into the narrow corridor. I relax as soon as the door closes behind me. I’d rather be weak. I am not broken; I’m strong. She’s just confusing my thoughts, making me doubt myself. Maybe she’s right. Perhaps I should leave her, for my own good.
I walk down the narrow corridor, heading towards the back of the train. The dining carriage is full of people, all starting their morning routine. I glance around, clocking and assessing each and every one of them. The one thing the Elite aren’t good at is blending in with ordinary people. We’re too rigid, too alert. It’s what always made Una so good. She came to training later, and she was able to tap into humanity more easily. She could blend in with the masses better than any of the other soldiers because she remembered what it was like to be one of them.
I see nothing out of the ordinary, though Enrique may very well have sent more than just the Elite after us. Everyone is a possible threat.
I grab a few croissant’s and two coffees from the food cart before making my way back to the room. I don’t want to leave Adelina for too long. She’s in a vulnerable state. Granted they couldn’t take her very far on a moving train, but I’m still not entirely sure that they don’t have the go-ahead to kill her if necessary.
When I get back to the room, Adelina is attempting to change. She stands facing away from the door, her bare back hunched over as she attempts to protect her shoulder.
“Just…give me a second,” she says on a strained breath.
I place the food and coffee down and step forward. “Stop.” I gently turn her to me.
Her cheeks flush a bright red, and she drops her gaze to the floor as she lets me help her. I make a concerted effort not to look at her chest. I manage to bend her elbow and stretch the material enough to get it on without moving her arm.
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
I take a croissant and a coffee, handing them to her. We both sit on our respective beds and eat in silence. I’m tense, uncomfortable, yet constantly aware of her. The space between the beds is so small that our knees almost touch. Something has changed, though I’m not sure how or why. I feel out of control, and it unsettles me.
“Why are we going to London?” she eventually asks.
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s kind of random. Taking a train across Europe… A flight would have been quicker.”
“Exactly. It’s random, no rationale to it.”
“Do you think there were more Elite at the station? They might have seen us get on this train.”
“I don’t think so. They seem to be spread thin.” I’m sure they knew we were in Rome, but not how we would leave. They probably scattered soldiers to every transport hub. I’ve yet to figure out why they’re going to such extremes for Adelina. Enrique Bianchi must be paying them a huge amount of money. And if they knew we were in Rome, he was likely there all along. “I think they were trying to flush us out.”
