Bloodshade

by Isadora Brown

  I waited. It was coming. It seemed like it would be coming.

  He almost touched my lips with his open mouth. I could feel him right there, standing in front of me. I waited for the time when he would finish it. I didn't know why I didn't just finish it. I stood still. I waited. I never waited for anything.

  But the moment passed. No kiss came. I didn't pull away, but I didn't close the gap between us either. Instead, I nodded my head once. I wasn't sure, exactly, what I was supposed to be saying with that nod, but I think I was giving him permission. Like I wanted it. But then maybe I was saying that I was okay that it didn't happen.

  "They're gone," I heard him say in a low voice.

  I nodded my head. I still didn't trust my voice yet. I closed my mouth and tried to moisten my throat. It didn't work.

  Jon tore his body from my own and slowly opened the door. It creaked so loudly, I thought for sure that we would be caught. That somebody would hear that noise and turn around, only to discover us in the hallway, exposed and vulnerable.

  But nobody came.

  Jon grabbed my hand in his, pulling me out of that little storage room and we continued down the hallway. My legs shook. I couldn't tell if it was because of the moment that passed between us or if it was because I was scared. I barely knew my own mind. I definitely wasn't able to think clearly.

  We found the exit—the same one from before—with ease. Nobody stopped us.

  Jon threw open the door and we stepped outside. The bitter slap of cold that instantly pinched my chin was a welcome relief against everything else. I gasped at the shock of it and I nearly collapsed in relief.

  I couldn't stop, though. Not yet. Not until we were safe.

  We kept running. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. I had never been a runner before. I hated the thought of running as exercise, running for no point. Now, I was converted. If I was going to keep getting myself into shit like this, running was a necessity. In that moment, I realized that just because I was slender did not mean I was fit. And I needed to change that about myself.

  If I survived.

  We went deep into the forest. I nearly tripped over the roots of a tree. Branches came out of seemingly nowhere and smacked my across my face. Leaves tangled themselves in my hair. But none of it stopped me. None of it slowed me down. Even when I thought for sure I was going to collapse, even when I thought my lungs would give out and explode in my chest, I kept pushing forward.

  And then, Jon stopped.

  I nearly ran into him, but he caught me in time so I didn't knock him or myself over. I took my time catching my breath. I sounded pathetic, trying to suck in as much air as I possibly could. But I didn't care. I wasn't trying to impress Jon with my ability to run without breathing hard or my coolness—which I didn't have. I was just trying to survive. And he seemed to understand.

  Once my breathing finally returned to normal, I gave myself the opportunity to take in my surroundings. It was dark, but the glow of the low-hanging moon allowed me to make out certain things. I knew we were deep in the heart of the Black Forest. I could see tall trees skim the night sky. There was a thick log just before me. Stones were scattered on the dirt. There were hills in the distance. We were wrapped up in silence. I could hear nothing else but my breathing and Jon's.

  When I finally looked at him, his eyes were already on me. I didn't know what he was thinking. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

  No words passed between us, but he stepped to me and took me in his arms. One arm wound across my waist and pressed against the small of my back. The other clutched my face with his hand, tilting my head back before claiming my lips with his own.

  The kiss was raw, hungry. It was a kiss one bestowed after nearly dying. It meant nothing more than Holy shit, we are still alive and we came out of that together. Which was why I refused to let the analytical side of my brain run wild. I refused to think about what this meant because, in the grand scheme of things, it meant nothing more than it already was.

  A kiss.

  So I kissed him back, with as much passion and hunger as I could muster for him.

  And I realized just how much that actually was.

  I clung to him like a child clutches their mother after a nightmare. His shirt was a ball in my hand. I was sure I was stretching it out, but I didn't care.

  I didn't care.

  His tongue slid against my bottom lip, asking for permission to enter, pushing against my nerves so I would be tempted to say yes. But how could I say anything but yes? I wanted him inside me, in more ways than just this. Of course, he couldn't know. I couldn't let him know. What if he was still in love with Yvonne? What if he wanted nothing to do with a relationship? Could we just make love and be done with it?

  No.

  Of course not.

  There was so much here between us. So much that left me wanting more. A kiss wouldn't give me all that I wanted. But I craved it. I had been wanting this for so, so long.

  I opened my mouth and let him in. He did not hesitate. He came barreling into me like a train. He wouldn't stop. I didn't know if he could. I was scorched by his nearness. His hand on my face left a trail, left his mark.

  I belonged to him.

  Jesus, help me, I belonged to Jon Hawkins and there was nothing I could do. I should pull away. I should run away from him. He was a murderer, but it was more than that. He had complete power over me. My heart was in his hand and all he needed to do was wrap his fingers around it and squeeze. He could break me into a million little pieces and I would sit there in my misery and beg him to do it again just so I could feel him with my heart.

  I kissed him fervently, passionately. I met his tongue with my own. Somehow, my knees were weak. I was melting into a puddle on the floor and somehow, somehow I was as solid as a statue with his arms around me, holding me tight.

  Kissing him was like breathing, like taking a breath after nearly drowning. But instead of air, there was just more water. It was like dying in the best way and living at the same time. My head spun. I lost control of my senses. I couldn't hold onto who I thought I was. I wanted to be more. I wanted to be…

  Someone worthy of the man and the beast. Someone who could accept him, even the broken pieces. I wanted to dance in his anger and swim in his misery and tell him that I loved him—not in spite of it, but because of it.

  Jon Hawkins was not a man who looked like an angel. He was broken. He was angry and bitter and that showed on the wrinkles on his face, the scars that were left in his skin, a permanent mark that I would never be able to heal. But I didn't care. They were part of him which meant they were part of me and I loved it. I loved him.

  The thought should have scared me, but it didn't.

  When we were forced to break apart for air, he didn't let me pull away from him. He rested his forehead against mine the way he had before. We just stood there, touching, holding each other, recovering from the kiss.

  I closed my eyes. I tried to memorize this moment, but it was taking longer to catch my breath. Jon must have been freezing. The shot Ramiro gave him exited his shoulder cleanly, but he still couldn't transform into a werewolf. At least, that was what I gathered.

  He was completely naked.

  I shrugged off my jacket and thrust it between us.

  "You're cold," I said, my voice raw. It was like I couldn't remember how to speak.

  "That's insulting," Jon said.

  I smiled before I could stop myself and shook my head. "That's not what I meant," I said. "You need to get decent. My car is about a mile away and—"

  I stopped when I saw the look on his face. It suddenly hit me. Jon wasn't coming back with me.

  I shouldn't have been surprised. Just because Guzman and Ramiro was dead didn't mean Jon was cleared of the murders he committed. Regardless of what happened to him, he still killed those people. Which meant he would still be hunted and chased down like he was a fox instead of the wolf he actually was.

  "Oh." I hadn't realiz
ed I had spoken at all.

  I wanted to tell him to stop. To not think like that. To come back with me. I would promise to hide him. He could live with me at my place. I would keep him safe.

  But then, I would keep him caged. He would resent me for my protectiveness the way part of me resented Robbie.

  I couldn't have Jon resent me.

  I clenched my teeth together like I was telling him I accepted his decision as much as I didn't like it.

  Jon took his hand and placed his fingers behind my jaw so he could take my chin and tilt his down with his thumb. He tilted his head, leaning forward, and I thought for sure he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me. More than anything in that moment, I wanted him to kiss me.

  But he didn't.

  He almost did.

  But not quite.

  And I didn't push towards him. I didn't close the gap.

  The gesture was more intimate than I expected it to be. It wasn't an almost kiss. It was something else entirely.

  It was a promise. It was a gesture full of repressed feelings that were finally coming out. It was everything I didn't realize I needed.

  "You should go," I told him.

  "Not until I get you to your car," Jon said. His voice was just as broken as mine was. "I can do that for you."

  - - -

  The next few days were a blur. Jon didn't come around again. I knew he wouldn't, and yet, I still felt disappointment that he wasn't there. I rolled my eyes at my patheticness and decided to focus on what I could count on.

  Robbie released the article to huge fanfare. Estrada's evidence had nothing to do with the files I found, and yet, there was enough to implicate Guzman, Ramiro, and her family. Because both of them were dead, they didn't receive a trial the way they should have, but people started coming forward from every walk of life to talk about something that they did that played into Guzman's corruption or Ramiro's murdering tendencies.

  The article got me a lot of job offers, some that would have taken me out of Perry and into more national exposure. It was something I hadn't even considered, but now that the offer was there, I pondered it. Was that what I even wanted? To be known nationally? To investigate and report on cases that affected the country, rather than just a small city on the west coast?

  I didn't want to leave Perry. My family was here. My home was here. I had grown up here. I didn't want anything else.

  Luckily, Michelle was nice enough to give me my job back. That was something I didn't have to question. I knew it was what I wanted.

  I still hadn't figured out what happened to my grandfather, and I was only partially aware of what happened to Jon. There were still questions I had, questions about Yvonne and why she selected Jon, Asher Grey and how he knew the mayor and what his role in this grand scheme was, and finally, who was Sonya Crawford? Did they know what happened last week? Did they care?

  Too many questions, not enough answers. I hated questions that didn't have answers. I felt, personally, that every single question should have an answer. Now, people could have different answers but questions were answered nonetheless.

  So I stayed. I moved back into my place, and I was surprised Robbie left without much of a fuss.

  The article died down after a few months. We would have an emergency vote to put in a new mayor soon, but for now, Perry was calm.

  I stepped into the cemetery and headed for my family's plaque. I had been coming more often to remind myself that my legacy was not something that trapped me. The quiet place calmed me. It made me feel like my family was with me, and, more than that, proud of me.

  Rain would be coming soon, which was a good thing. Perry needed its sins to be washed away by a good, thorough rain. I breathed in the cool air and released it through my nose, a small smile on my face.

  Everything was going the way I wanted. Things were looking up.

  I faltered the minute I reached the plaque. I nearly stumbled into the dew-filled grass. My heart jumped in my throat and I turned, looking to see if I was as alone as I expected to be. I found no one.

  There, on the plaque, was a simple bouquet of sunflowers.

  Did You Like Bloodshade?

  As an author, the best thing a reader can do is leave an honest review. I love gathering feedback because it shows me you care and it helps me be a better writer. If you have the time, I’d greatly appreciate any feedback you can give me. Thank you!

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, to my readers.

  Theresa, for your amazing edits and making this story the best it can be. Thank you for pushing me to make this better.

  Heather Marie Adkins, for your beautiful, eye catching covers. I cannot stop staring.

  My family - Frank, Kylee, Madisyn, Jacob, and Josh. Your love is the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Want to find out when my next book comes out? Maybe you’d like to jump in on the giveaways, sales, and other fun stuff? Please consider signing up for my newsletter here.

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