Avenged (Altered #2)(33)

Parker always spoke formally about people he didn’t know. Strange. “Yes. They will.”

“Then, we should pack.” He turned, leaving before they could say anything else.

Luke turned to Jack. He was staring at the door, confusion on his face as well. Then he shrugged.

Standing, Jack reached under his bed and pulled out the duffel bag he’d purchased before they came to Cancun. It had carried the few clothes and supplies they’d brought. They hadn’t known what would be readily available in Mexico so they’d brought the basics.

Now, he began to fold his few clothes and put them in the bag.

“What are you doing?”

“You heard him.” Jack continued folding without looking up. “He said it was time to go.”

“When I said we should go, you didn’t want to hear it. But you’re on board now?”

Jack shrugged again and didn’t answer, just continued to pack.

Luke watched, wondering how taken Jack was with Parker’s “We are the chosen people” propaganda. Considering Luke had rarely seen Jack agree to anything without a fight, he suspected the answer was…pretty taken.

It wouldn’t help him to argue. It was what he’d wanted, after all, so he shouldn’t complain. Only it didn’t feel right.

He should be happy about going back. It’s what he’d been hoping for over the past days, to get back into the thick of it. To help Kitty. Instead, he couldn’t help wondering if maybe this wasn’t the right decision after all.

…

Nick finally stopped vomiting.

She’d never seen someone throw up that much, heave and shake like that. Months ago, during her change, she’d probably looked similar, but she hadn’t exactly had a chance to look at herself in the mirror. Or even care what she looked like. She’d been too busy wishing she would die.

Well, Nick hadn’t had that luxury.

After he threw up the first time, she tapped into his misery as the drug swept through his body. She remembered the despair—the pain and discomfort—but hearing it from his perspective had been difficult. She’d listened to her parents muddle through the effects of the drug as well, but she’d been so sick herself, she hadn’t dwelled on it. Now, she only had Nick and his wretchedness in this cell.

As the illness progressed and the night lengthened, he stopped noticing she was there. His mind became less focused, tripping from memory to memory, thought to thought.

His parents were there. His mother, a vivacious brunette, and his father, a robust man who said little but had kind eyes.

His sisters. Five of them. They were beautiful, like him. Dark hair, dark eyes, honey skin. Their smiles were infectious, like their brother’s.

He thought about Seth and a handful of other soldiers she didn’t know. He thought of them as family.

And he thought about her.

Seeing those parts was difficult. If he’d been lucid, he wouldn’t have allowed her this much access to his thoughts. But she refused to back away from him, to leave him his privacy. If he needed her, if his thoughts turned dark, toward giving up, she needed to know.

So, she watched herself from his point of view.

The first thing she noticed was that she was prettier to him than she was to herself. Her eyes were softer, more understanding. Her skin was creamier than she knew it to be. Her limbs looked graceful, here in his mind, instead of lanky and awkward as she’d always expected.

It was hard, seeing herself this way.

While she’d believed he felt bad for her, she sensed none of that here with his guard down. Instead she got his lingering feeling that it was his fault she was here. That, and his uncertainty, his belief that he was messing everything up with her.

It was that uncertainty that made her pull him closer.

Now, though, he hadn’t thrown up in some time. He was even less focused than before.

That’s when she heard it.

Let this be over. Make this stop.

I’m going to die.

Icy fear sliced through her stomach. She shook him, her fingers digging into his jumpsuit. She was barely able to move his big body, but her fear gave her strength.

“Nick.” No response. She gripped his face, turning it toward her. He was dead weight. “Nick!” she said louder, trying to get through to him.

Nothing. And his mind was quiet, full of pale light streaked with darkness.

“No, no, no,” she muttered. She clutched him closer, touching her forehead to his. “You stop it. You stay with me.”

He couldn’t leave her. She refused to let him go.

She closed her eyes and allowed that thought to fill her mind. She sent it out to him.

Some people believed they could put an idea into the universe, that if they wished for something hard enough, they could make it so. Kitty didn’t know about controlling the universe, but she’d had some luck controlling one person at a time.

She thought out to him. If that made her manipulative, so be it.

You stay with me. You can’t die.

Stay with me. Stay with me.

He exhaled on a groan. He pulled away from the pastel haze, and it became spiked with dark colors again, with reds and blacks. She didn’t know if she was helping, but she kept it up.

Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me.

Nick’s head turned from side to side, and his eyes squeezed shut. Her face played through his thoughts, and he latched on to it.