The Forsaken Saga Complete Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Sophia Sharp

  We both wait a few seconds for her reply. When it doesn’t come, Spencer shoves me aside. “Stand back.”

  I yelp and jump back as he slams his shoulder into the door. The old wood bends but doesn’t break. Spencer curses, backs up, and tries again.

  He runs into the door with enormous force. The wood doesn’t give, but the lock snaps. The door swings open, and Spencer staggers inside, propelled by his momentum.

  I run in behind him and gasp.

  Katy’s lying in the bathtub, out cold. Part of the shower curtain is draped over her body, ripped from the rungs when she fell. Water rushes from the nozzle onto her unconscious form.

  Spencer acts right away. He dives in and pulls Katy from the tub, getting his jacket soaked as he does it. He grabs a towel and wraps it around her body, then sets her down against his leg. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to burst free and fly from my chest.

  “She’s still breathing,” Spencer rasps. “But her body is so hot. What the fuck happened here, Paige?”

  “I… I don’t know,” I stutter. “She started acting weird when we got home an hour ago. Said she was really hot.”

  “Did she take anything?” Spencer presses. “Drugs? Pills? Anything like that? I knew her last year. She never shied away from party drugs.”

  I shake my head vehemently. “I don’t know! I didn’t see anything!” I’m closing in on full-blown panic. “What’s wrong with her, Spencer?”

  He lifts one of her eyelids and looks into her eye. “Her pupils are fine,” he says. “Fuck! I’ve never seen anything like this. Call an ambulance. RUN!”

  I nod and rush to my phone. My fingers fumble for the keys. The operator picks up. I don’t remember what I say to her. When I come back, Spencer has put another towel under Katy and propped her up against a wall so she’s in a sitting position.

  “They’re coming,” I tell him. “Just another few minutes.” I take Katy’s hand. “Hold on, baby. Just hold on.”

  “Do you swear you didn’t see her take anything?” Spencer grills me. His eyes are dark and intense. “Don’t lie to me, Paige! It could be the difference between life and death!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip, thinking hard. I’d spent pretty much all day with Katy. I never saw her take anything. Except…

  “Wait!” I exclaim, scrambling up. “A package arrived for her this morning. She said it wasn’t hers but then I found it in our room. Maybe there’s something inside.”

  “Don’t just stand there, woman! Run! Get it!”

  I bolt out of the bathroom and slide to my knees before the bed. I dig around for Katy’s bag. My fingers wrap around the cardboard package, and I rush back to Spencer.

  “Here,” I say, breathless. “This is it.”

  Spencer takes the package from me. It’s already open. He reaches in and takes out a white plastic bottle. When he shakes it, I hear pills rattling around inside.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Spencer turns the bottle over in his hands. His face goes pale when he sees the label.

  He shows it to me in a kind of daze. “DNP.”

  I blink, shaking my head. “What is that? Some kind of party drug? I’ve never heard of it.”

  Spencer unscrews the top and sticks a finger in. When he brings it out, it’s stained a vibrant yellow.

  “Worse,” he says, shoving the bottle back into the brown package. “It’s a weight-loss drug. Except, it’s so dangerous it was banned at the start of the 1900s. It’s what dynamite is made from. Body builders use it to lean out for a show. But it builds up in your system over time. You don’t see the effects right away. A single extra pill can be enough to overdose. It boosts your metabolism like crazy. Your body produces enormous amounts of extra heat, and if you’re not careful, it literally burns you up from the inside.”

  “That’s what she took?” I exclaim, aghast. I had no idea Kate had body image problems. She ate normally, never giving a hint of having trouble.

  “It makes sense based on what you said. Her complaining about heat. Passing out in the shower. Even now—look! You put your hands over her and she’s like a damn furnace.

  “What do we do?”

  Spencer shakes his head. “Hope that she didn’t take enough of it to kill herself, and wait for the paramedics to arrive. Even when they get here, there’s no way to get the drug out of her system.” He looks down at Katy’s limp body. “It’s all up to her, now.”

  “That can’t be it,” I protest, despite. “Please, we have to help her!”

  Spencer gives a curt nod. “You’re right. We have to make sure she doesn’t overheat. Get a wet towel. Actually, make it two. Fast!”

  I jump to do as I’m told as he continues speaking.

  “We’ll wrap them around her body,” he says. “The water will evaporate and take some heat from her skin. We’ll keep her wrapped up until the paramedics arrive.”

  ***

  Everything goes by in a blur. The paramedics come and take Katy away. They say we did the smartest thing we could wrapping her in cold towels. I give Spencer all the credit for that. I wouldn’t have thought of it. I would have given in to panic.

  Spencer, on the other hand, stayed level-headed and took control of the situation.

  He and I ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance. Once we’re there, we show the DNP to the doctors. They count the pills. There are ninety left in the bottle. The label says it contained a hundred. Spencer tells me that even four is an extremely high, extremely dangerous dose for professional body builders—the guys who weigh over three hundred pounds.

  Katy weighs a third of that.

  All we can do is hope and pray. Spencer stays with me in the waiting room. We don’t speak. In the silence, I start to blame myself. If only I’d have paid more attention, maybe I would have noticed something amiss with her. If only I hadn’t shut myself in for three weeks, maybe I would have noticed Katy was having problems. But, she was always so cheerful and happy…

  “Hey.” Spencer nudges me gently with his elbow. “It’s getting late. They’re going to ask us to leave soon.”

  “What? They expect us to just… to just… abandon her?”

  “We’re not family, so we can’t stay in the ICU,” Spencer says. “I’ve been here before. They don’t like visitors in this hospital overnight.”

  “She doesn’t have anyone else!”

  “I know. But we don’t have to go far. My place is only a few block away, and—”

  “You expect me to stay with you?” I exclaim.

  “If you’re as worried about Katy as I think you are, yes. But I promise, no games tonight. Our friend’s life is on the line.”

  ***

  We walk out the front doors of the hospital. It’s gotten colder since I was last outside. At least the rain has stopped.

  Spencer notices me hugging my arms around my body. He takes off his jacket and places it over my shoulders.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, wrapping the leather garment around myself. It smells like him: A mixture of cologne, aftershave, and just a musky hint of his own personal aroma.

  My mind flashes back to the night after the frat party. To the kiss we shared in the corner of my room. To the sinful way he made me feel.

  I push those thoughts down with a shudder. I’m looking for comfort in the face of a bad situation. Memories of Spencer are not what I should be turning to. Not with him right beside me.

  We walk the first block in heavy silence. I glance at Spencer out of the corner of my eye. His hands are stiff in his jean pockets. He’s looking straight ahead. His features are carved with hard lines. I can see the tension in his neck, the repeated flexion of his jaw.

  He’s worried.

  Spencer’s heavy jacket feels like a barrier between me and the world. Somehow, hidden beneath the thick leather, I feel protected. It gives me the strength needed to verbalize the thoughts running through my mind.

  “Spencer?” I say softl
y.

  He takes a few seconds to break out of his reverie. He looks over at me. “Yeah?”

  “I’m… sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. What you did tonight, for Katy, showed me that you’re actually a pretty good guy.”

  He grunts and gives a half-nod, then turns his attention forward and keeps walking.

  “The doctors said that without the wet towels, Katy might have died before we got to the hospital. That was all you, Spencer. You saved her life.”

  He grunts again, but doesn’t respond. I keep trying.

  “It’s just,” I continue, “my life hasn’t exactly given me the greatest amount of experience in the intentions of men. I know I probably seem cold to you most of the time. I…” I take a deep breath. This is harder than I thought it would be. “…I’m not really like that. I like to think that I’m a nice person. Most people see that in me, once they get to know me. But I haven’t even given you a chance. For that, I am sorry.”

  Spencer stops and turns to regard me. His eyes are hidden in the shadows of his face. I can’t imagine what they look like. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

  I roll my shoulders uncomfortably. “What?”

  “I think,” he says slowly, “that that little speech might just be the most genuine string of words you’ve ever directed at me.”

  I laugh a little and shake my head. “I think you’re probably right.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Spencer opens the door to his apartment and motions me in. I step over the threshold. I can’t see much in the dark, but that changes when Spencer closes the door and flicks on the light.

  I’m greeted by an unexpectedly normal décor. There’s a black futon situated against the far brick wall. A small coffee table sits in front of it with a smattering of books on top.

  I pick out the title of the thickest one. Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace. I walk over and hold it up.

  “I didn’t take you for much of a reader,” I note.

  Spencer chuckles. “I imagine most girls wouldn’t.”

  “David Foster Wallace, huh? Isn’t he that genius writer who killed himself a while back?”

  This time, Spencer’s eyebrows go up in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d have heard of him. He writes pretty complicated stuff.”

  I shoot him a look. “Maybe I’m a complicated girl.”

  “I think we’ve both got that figured out by now.” He nods at the book still in my hands. “So. Have you read that, then?”

  I shake my head. “No. But I’ve been meaning to. I’ve read some of his essays in Consider the Lobster.”

  “Pretty brilliant, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I nod and put the book down. I don’t want things to be awkward between us. “So. Are you going to give me the grand tour, or should I just crash on the couch?”

  Spencer’s eyes narrow. “Hell no. You’re sleeping on my bed.”

  I exhale and start to walk out. “Spencer, I thought we went over this. You promised—”

  “No games,” he finishes. “And I meant that. You sleep on my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “Oh.” I frown. “You don’t strike me as the chivalrous type.”

  Spencer smiles. “Most girls don’t.” He points down the hall. “The shower’s that way. You probably want to clean up before going to bed.”

  “A hot shower sounds like a great idea, thank you.” I hand his jacket to him as I pass. Our fingers brush for a second, and that damnable spark of electricity shoots up my arm.

  I’m five steps away before either of us can do anything stupid about it.

  “In here?” I call out as I turn toward a closed door.

  “Yeah,” Spencer answers.

  I nod and open the door. I hear his voice ring down the hall as I turn the light on. “Paige? Don’t forget to lock the door. I don’t want to be tempted.”

  I smile to myself, shake my head, and press in the lock. Spencer really can be a good guy when he tries.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom. My skin’s a healthy pink from the treatment of hot water and vigorous scrubbing I’ve given it. I’m caught by surprise when I find an Iron Maiden t-shirt and black boxers on the floor.

  Spencer must have heard me come out, because he yells, “They’re both clean!” from the living room.

  “Oh?”

  “I just got them back from the laundry,” he continues. “I figured you’d like something fresh to wear.”

  “That’s very considerate of you.” I pick up the clothes and duck back into the bathroom to put them on.

  I bring the shirt to my nose and take a deep breath. It smells like laundry detergent. I’m disappointed. I wouldn’t have minded a little Spencer on it.

  The shirt falls past my knees, so there’s no real need for the boxers. I put them on anyway. Something about wearing boys’ underwear has always been exciting to me.

  “You look so fucking adorable,” Spencer says when he sees me. He’s set up camp on the couch, complete with a white sheet and down cover.

  “Thanks,” I say. I look around the room. “Your bedroom is…?”

  “Right there,” Spencer tells me, pointing to an open door. “I changed the sheets for you. I didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

  “Wow, Spencer. That’s actually really nice of you.”

  He grins. “I know. Probably because I haven’t slept with you yet.”

  “Hey!”

  “Kidding,” he defends. “Sort of. Anyway, you’ll be happy to know the bedroom door has a lock, too. So you can sleep easy tonight.”

  “Why does your bedroom door have a lock?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “The place came with it there. Though I won’t argue against its usefulness. Comes in handy when my roommate’s entertaining and all I want to do is sleep.”

  I jump, startled, and start looking in all directions. “Roommate? You mean we’re not alone in here?”

  Spencer laughs. “Relax. He moved out last summer. Tonight, it’s just you and me.”

  “Oh,” I sigh, relieved.

  “Although probably not in the way I prefer,” he adds.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I say, “only because you’ve been such a gentleman all night. Goodnight, Spencer.”

  “Goodnight, Paige.”

  ***

  I go into the bedroom and close, then lock, the door. I look at the giant bed in the middle of the room. The sheets are fresh, the pillows fluffed.

  As I tuck myself under the covers, I wonder why Spencer did all this for me. It doesn’t fit with the impression I have of him in my head. He’s supposed to be cocky, callous, and absolutely immune to the feelings of others.

  Except that tonight, he’s not. Maybe the severity of what happened to Katy affected him. Maybe he’s looking out for me because he knows how worried I am about her. I don’t know.

  But it’s more than that. He saved Katy’s life. I panicked; without him, I wouldn’t have known what to do. The doctor’s words stuck: ‘Without the towels, your friend would be dead.’

  I close my eyes and try to rest. Sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, all alone, is a strange sensation. It’s hard to get comfortable. My mind keeps going back to the scene in the bathroom after Spencer broke through the door: Poor Katy, lying in the bathtub, the water splashing over her unconscious body. If Spencer hadn’t suggested I get a jacket, we would have been gone when she fell. I shudder to think what could have happened to her then.

  I flit in and out of sleep. My dreams are just as bad as the thoughts that run through my head when I’m awake.

  Eventually, I give up trying to rest. I sit up. The stress pulsing through my body makes me feel grainy and stretched. I hug my knees to my chest, and rub my eyes.

  That’s when I notice the faint light coming from beneath the bedroom door. Spencer’s still awake. Suddenly, I feel incredibly guilty about taking his bed. He’s probably just as worried about Katy
as I am. I have no right to kick him out of his own room when I’m a guest.

  I sneak to the door and carefully pry it open.

  Spencer’s lying on the futon, facing away from me. He has a book in his lap. I watch as his hand moves to flip the page. The rustle of paper is the only sound to break the silence.

  I debate turning around and returning to bed—then think better of it.

  “Spencer?” I ask meekly. The mood in the apartment seems suited for soft voices.

  He turns his head at the sound of my voice. “Paige,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

  I wrap my arms around myself, nestling into his t-shirt, and emerge from the doorway. Spencer sits up when I walk to him. I take a seat to his right.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I whisper.

  “Me, neither,” Spencer says. He looks me up and down. Normally, I’d expect that look to be full of hungry desire, but right now, it’s just… compassionate. “Worried?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I nod and pull my feet onto the couch, stretching the t-shirt so it covers my legs.

  “She was lucky we were there,” Spencer says. “There’s nothing else we could have done for her.”

  “I know.” I look ahead, into the distance. My next words come out in a tiny breath. “Do you think she’s going to make it?”

  Spencer exhales, then scooches closer to me. When I don’t shy away, he lifts his arm. I give an imperceptible nod. He puts his arm over my shoulder, and I lean into him.

  “I don’t know,” he says finally.

  I nod again. The truth may be bitter, but it’s better than hearing lies.

  A yawn escapes my lips. Spencer notices.

  “You should get some sleep,” he says. “We can go back to the hospital around seven tomorrow.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll try to sleep a little, too.”

  “Are you okay out here, on the couch?”

  He gives a light chuckle. “I gave you the bed, didn’t I?”

  “That’s not what I asked.”