“We’re at the bottom of a ravine,” Keira reminded him, her mouth tingling with the desire to kiss him.
Walker reached out and traced the shape of her bottom lip with his thumb. The longing in his touch made Keira dizzy. “I know. But each time we cross over, we put a rip in the fabric of Darkside. The more times we cross in one place, the bigger the tear gets. The bigger the tear, the easier it is for the Reformers and their guards to trace, and—”
“The easier it is for them to find us,” Keira finished for him.
“Exactly.” He laughed.
“What?” Keira demanded. “I don’t think this is funny at all.”
“It’s not funny,” he agreed. “It’s horribly ironic. I’ve kissed a lot of girls I didn’t care about one bit, and now that I’ve found one I care about a great deal, I can barely touch her.”
His words were better than a kiss could have been, but that didn’t stop Keira from wanting it.
Walker stood up and paced the tiny room. “So, what do you want to do? Watch TV?” He yanked open the nightstand drawer and his eyes lit up. “Oh, look! Cards! I could teach you some tricks. . . . ”
The weight of the day came crashing down on Keira. She ached with fatigue, and her overwhelmed mind begged to shut down for a while.
“Actually, would you mind if I went to bed? You can watch TV or whatever. It won’t bother me. I need to crash. It’s been kind of an exhausting day.”
“Oh, sure. Of course,” Walker said. “It is pretty late.”
Keira waited.
He stared back at her, confused.
“I, um, need to take my towel off. I don’t think it’s going to work for sleeping.” The blood pounded against her cheeks.
“Oh. Right.” Walker turned around to face the curtains that covered the window, muttering something about chivalry being better off dead.
Keira slid off the makeshift skirt and tossed it on the end of the bed before sliding between the neatly made sheets. They were thin and worn, but they smelled reassuringly of bleach and she snuggled deeper into the pillow.
“Okay,” she said, her voice already heavy with sleep. “I’m decent.”
Walker spun and looked down at her. A slow grin spread across his face. Keira’s sleepiness evaporated, leaving a pounding desire in its wake. She was instantly and acutely aware that she was lying in a hotel bed, barely dressed, with Walker staring down at her like she looked delicious.
“You are completely indecent,” he said. “But since there’s nothing we can do about that, I’m going to go take a shower.”
He will be naked in the shower, a voice in her brain informed her. Like she needed reminding.
Keira was suddenly too hot beneath the covers, but she didn’t trust herself to move them. It might look like an invitation. It might be an invitation.
Walker’s face softened. The tenderness in his eyes turned her desire into something deeper—something more important. Something Keira couldn’t even bring herself to name, much less think about.
“Sleep well,” he said quietly.
“You too,” she managed to whisper. Then she shut her eyes on him, on the room, on the screwed-up double worlds—on everything. The shower hummed to life on the other side of the bathroom door.
Keira tossed and turned on the lumpy mattress. If she’d been at home, she would have padded out to the living room and played her piano until the music pushed her thoughts aside, leaving sleep a space to slip in. But there was no piano here. Frustrated, she flopped onto her back and squeezed her eyes shut against the view of the water-stained ceiling. Her piano sprang to life in her mind. She could see every key, the gleaming wood—even the single scratch from the time her metronome fell, glancing off the piano on its way down. Just looking at her piano, even if it was only in her memory, made her feel calmer.
Her fingers began to move against the scratchy sheets, but Keira could have sworn she felt the cool, smooth faces of the keys beneath her fingertips. She played. It didn’t matter that the music was only in her head. It didn’t matter that her piano was miles away. She could feel the notes, moving through her blood, relaxing her muscles. Her thoughts quieted.
Before she could even finish the first étude, Keira’s exhaustion claimed her. Her fingers slowed their drumming and finally, she slept.
Chapter Thirty-Two
KEIRA’S OWN SCREAM WOKE HER.
In the darkness, it seemed entirely possible that it was real—the hooded figures, the cylindrical stone they’d pressed her neck against, the graphite-colored scythe swinging above her.
Keira struggled against the tangled covers, kicking a leg free and sitting up with a choked cry. The freezing air cut through her T-shirt.
“Keira, shhh! You’re okay.” Walker sat up next to her.