Chapter 11
I might be immortal, but alcohol still has an effect on me. Hence, my decision not to grade under the influence. I was well aware of what it felt like to be drunk, that sense of the world expanding and contracting like it actually breathed, that hypersensitivity to the most inopportune things. The specifics of the latter are different for everyone. For me, it manifests in my skin. I become aware of how taut my skin stretches over my body, the whisper of each hair follicle, the degrees of heat it climbs as my inner temperature rises.
That’s how I felt now. Like I was drunk and feverish, all at the same time.
A groan escaped me. Almost immediately, cool hands brushed across my forehead.
“Sleep,” a baritone crooned. “For all that is good and holy, you must sleep, Caleb.”
“No,”
