Love.
The look in his eyes, the way his magic felt within me, none of it was wild, none of it was scary. Everything about Ilyan was calm. He was love.
He was light.
I had felt it before, before Wyn’s screams had broken open the façade I had plastered together. Ilyan was love.
He wasn’t love simply because I knew he loved me. Because I did know that. Without question, he had proved that to me again and again. No, he was love because I loved him.
I loved him.
“What is beyond your anger, Joclyn? What is your pain hiding?”
I didn’t look away from him as he asked his questions. I didn’t dare take my eyes off him. I stared at Ilyan as my body leaned toward him, as my hands moved from his. My fingers moved on their own, trailing up his shirt and over the skin of his neck.
I held my breath as I touched his face, the soft skin I had never touched before. I ran the pads of my fingers over his eyebrows, his defined cheek bones, and through the hairline of his short cut.
My heart pulsed wildly inside of me as I let my fingers trail over the scruff from a beard I had never seen, prickly and sharp, before dragging to his lips. I froze.
I froze at the sound of my pulse in my ears. I froze at the calm that had overtaken me. I froze at the desire that circled through Ilyan’s mind and the willpower he was exerting to keep it there.
I watched his breathing. I felt the heat of his breath against my fingers, the pulse of his magic hot under his skin.
What was behind the anger?
“Ilyan,” I said again, his eyes opening slowly to stare at me, “you are behind my anger.”
I smiled at my words, my heart thumping even more at the clarity they brought, at the way each word formed perfectly. Ilyan’s lips upturned underneath my touch, the skin parting as he kissed the pads of my fingers, the wetness of his lips soft against my skin.
“I always will be,” he whispered as my fingers fell from his lips and I moved closer.
As I kissed him.
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading, for supporting and for loving what I do.
Thank you to my friends who put up with my excessive writing habits, to Liz who watched the Monkey, to Dan who cheers me on. Thank you to those who read it first, and those who read it last. Thank you for sharing, for raving, for blowing me away.
Thank you.
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About the Author
Rebecca Ethington has been telling stories since she was small. First, with writing crude scripts, and then in stage with years of theatrical performances. The Imdalind Series is her first stint into the world of literary writing. Rebecca is a mother to two, and wife to her best friend of 14 years. She was born and raised in the mountains of Salt Lake City, and hasn’t found the desire to leave yet. Her days are spent writing, running, and enjoying life with her amazing family.
Soul of Flame, the fourth book in The Imdalind Series is due to be released December 2013
Rebecca will also be releasing Through Glass, book one in The Glass Series September 20 2013
And Hit, a YA Contemporary, in November 2013
Follow Rebecca on her blog at:
www.rebeccaethington.com
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@ RebEthington
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Striking
By Lila Felix and Rachel Higginson
Release date September 1, 2013
Chapter Two
Stockton
Just add water—my ass.
I still sucked at pancakes. Two damned years of mixing this crap up and it still looked like a substance I’d use to soothe a burn rather than slop on the griddle and attempt to feed to Will. She knew how to cook them and I was sure that any minute she’d come and save me from this lumpy glue mixture I’d stared at for the last ten minutes. I left it there in the bowl our mother had always used for pancakes, a scratched up, metal monstrosity, better suited for Will to use for slopping the pigs, and moved on to making sausage—now that I could handle.
“Did you mess up the pancakes again,” She half barked, half yawned.
“No, I left them for you to mess up.”
She ‘Pssshh’ed in my direction and then started adjusting the temperature on the griddle. As I finished up cooking the sausage she’d already stacked up six pancakes and was slathering them with butter.
I heard the screen door slam and knew it was West. My youngest brother never missed breakfast—never. He was commuting back and forth from school but always tried to catch at least one meal a day with us. We all valued family like never before. Will divvied up the portions and dug in without a second thought. I reached under the lip of the old table our father built out of bartered lumber and shook it once to get her attention.
“What the he—sorry Stock.” She put down her fork and she bulged out her eyes in what I knew was an attempt at not rolling her eyes at me.
“Willa,” I used her whole name for affect, something I’d learned long ago from our parents that she hated, “why don’t you say grace since you’re so fast to eat.”
She bowed her head and began, “God is great…”
After we finished breakfast, I did the dishes and took a moment to remember the dishwasher I’d had in the university apartment just over two years ago—it seemed like I’d aged twenty years since then. I wish I had it now, sure would be a hell of a lot easier than handwashing everything.
I dried the last dish and wiped down the cracking, burnt red, laminate counters. I had a new appreciation of all the years my mother did this three, four and five times a day while all we did was moan and groan at her. I missed them more than I could ever let on.
“I’m off to school. I fed the pigs and the chickens, only eight eggs today. I’ve got a test Friday in Trig and…that’s all.”
We chuckled together as she spouted off the outline of her morning as she once did to our dad, who demanded we all complete the same task every morning.
“Ok, take the Jeep today. I have to go to town to pick up some supplies and meet with Mr. Daniels.”
“Be careful, Stock.” She said as she took one glance back at me.
“You too, Will.”
We didn’t say we loved each other anymore—it was a given. We now told each other to be careful, or stay safe. Because I love you hadn’t helped my parents the night of the fire. My telling them I loved them over the phone didn’t stop the flames from engulfing the hundred year old barn and taking my parents with it. They knew I loved them. I should’ve told them to be careful.
CLICKS
The Pinhold Prophecy
By Amy Evans
Part One
Chapter 1
When I walked out, Blake whistled.
“Lookin’ good,” he said with a wink of his turquoise eye. The other one, his right one, was half that same startling blue and half grayish silver, the same color as my own. Ours was a small island with a shallow gene pool. Endless summers gave everyone the same sunkissed, tanned glow, even before you factored in the many sets of identical twins that comprised an unusually high portion of our population.
Blake was literally the poster child for life here on Pinhold: a blond, tan, sixteen-year-old swimming god who was part of the ad campaign for this year’s Surf Carnival, the competitive swimming and surfing event that drew international pros from both sports to our tiny island home. His twin
Kaleb had left Pinhold when were thirteen. He’d been my best friend, just as Blake was Mica’s.
On the surface Blake and Kaleb looked identical but they were mirror twins—Blake’s right eye matched Kaleb’s left, Kaleb’s nose hooked the tiniest bit right, while Blake’s went left. They had identical birthmarks in exactly the same place on their left and right knees respectively.
Like all magnetic objects that go in the same direction, they repelled each other. So while Blake dove in head first to island life, Kaleb rejected almost everything about Pinhold, especially The Guard. He hated how into it Blake and Mica had gotten and it was something that we’d fought about before he gotten in trouble and shipped off to military school.
Kaleb had snuck over to the tiny island to check Pinhold’s most revered symbol: an ancient pin that supposedly stood straight up on a rock in the middle of our archipelago. It was visible only at certain times of the year, and only members of The Guard, the island elite, were permitted to see it. Blake, Mica and I weren’t in The Guard yet, but we were hoping to be, so we were on our way to First Night.
Always on the summer solstice, First Night kicked off the new season of the Surf Carnival, a series of extreme lifeguarding competitions that took place on weekends all summer long. There were three distinctive parts to the evening: a religious ceremony, a party and a competitive ocean swim that took place in the dark. Even though I usually ignored them, his flattering comments pleased me because dressing had been challenging.
“Quit it,” I said, looking down so he wouldn’t see the traitorous blush on my cheeks. From behind me, Mica snickered. He didn’t need to see my face; he could feel every thought in my brain. Every girl for a hundred miles wanted the flirtatious compliments that rolled so easily off Blake’s tongue. Except for me, usually. But tonight I had steered clear of my typical bathing suit and board shorts, opting instead for a white bikini, red tank and denim skirt that looked nearly too tight in just the right way.
“No one’s gonna mistake you for Mica tonight,” said Blake’s older brother, Billy, as he pushed a keg down the driveway. My face reddened more as Billy drew attention to the fact that ‘til a few months ago, Mica and I had passed for identical twins because I didn’t have a single curve to make me look like a girl. Recently, seemingly overnight, I’d grown in all the right places.
“Missed you too, Billy,” I said, grumbling a little but accepting the bear hug he offered. My surrogate big brother, Billy, had spent as much time with Mica and me as Kaleb and Blake, ‘til he’d left for college a few years back. He’d come back to do his medical residency and he’d brought his girlfriend, Celeste, with him. “When did you guys get here?” I asked.
“A couple hours ago. I went up to see Kaleb after I took the boards. He says good luck to all you guys tonight,” Billy said.
“Sure he did.” Mica snorted, echoing my sentiments exactly. Kaleb hated The Guard, had made me promise more than once during all our years as Nippers that I’d never join. But when he left, I started training because it made my Gram so happy. I got addicted to the adrenaline rush that came from racing in the ocean and loved every minute I spent on my surf board, even though I was much better at paddling it then standing on it.
As soon as Mica and I had turned sixteen two months ago, we took our lifeguard exam and made it onto the beach patrol, which meant this summer I would get paid to sit on the beach. The basic lifeguard test required all over the world was just the first step here, but I had ten weeks to collect the certifications I’d need to be a proper surf lifeguard and get an invitation to join The Guard.
Billy looked at the pink of the sky, picked up the keg and plopped it into the passenger seat of the small electric vehicle that looked like the baby of a golf cart and a pick up truck. Golfies and dune buggies served as transportation on Pinhold. Proper cars and gas engines of any kind were banned for environmental reasons. “That puts you lot in the back,” he said, gesturing to the flatbed portion of the tiny thing.
I attempted to climb up into the truck and came up on the limits of my short skirt, falling backwards into Blake. Luckily, he caught me before we both tumbled to the ground. His huge square hands stayed on my hips, holding me up. I jumped away from him quickly.
“Klutz,” said Mica, putting his hands on the rails and vaulting gracefully into the back.
“Let me help you,” Blake offered, lifting me over the side and into the flatbed, following me in with ease. I crammed against Mica to sit down, but no matter how I wiggled, we were not all going to fit.
“This worked a lot better last summer,” Blake said in that smooth, slow tone that made everyone lean in to hear him talk.
“All the extra workouts, bro,” Mica said, giving Blake a high five.
I squirmed away from both of them, standing again.
“I’ll walk,” said Blake, getting up like a gentleman so there was room for me.
“Nah,” said Mica, squinting his silvery eyes at the setting sun. “Can’t be late. Cami can sit on your lap.”
When the boys had satisfactorily arranged their legs, I settled on Blake, gingerly, trying not to get close. Then Billy gunned the gas and I fell hard onto Blake’s lap as the cart took off. We were speeding way to fast for me to adjust my position, so I looked around trying to distract myself from how uncomfortable I felt having this much physical contact with Blake. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him, I did. It’s just that we had less than zero chemistry. That, combined with my family’s insistence that he was perfect for me, made me keep my distance physically.
It wasn’t hard to find something that captured my eyes. Our sunsets rivaled any wonder in the world. Pink light glinted off the bay on one side and the ocean on another, sparkling on the narrow gravel road made from tiny pieces of the black stone we quarried here.
We slowed down through the center of town to avoid the day-trippers who walked slowly back to the ferry, blissed out and happily exhausted from their beach day.
“Mainer,” Mica muttered under his breath, when a cute guy with a surfboard locked eyes with me.
Visitors from the mainland keep the Island going, but most of us who live here have a love/hate relationship with them. Except for me. I smiled back only to get an elbow in the gut from Mica.
“Be nice,” Billy called from the front. “Those folks will pay your salary this summer and make it possible to sustain The Guard, which you’ll appreciate soon. If you get in, of course.”
“Have you seen me swim lately? I’ve beat all the local records—even yours,” Mica said.
“Tonight’s not about speed, man—swimming from the little island to here is meant to represent rebirth,” said Billy.
“Don’t get all Yoda on me, Billy,” laughed Liam. “This is Pinhold. If you’re in the water, it’s a race.”
“For Nippers like you, yes. But The Guard’s about other things,” Billy warned, wrestling the golfie onto the bumpier path down to the beach. It was kitted out with dune buggy wheels, but hardly a smooth ride.
“My Nipper days are long gone. After three years in the Junior Guard I’m more than ready for the big game,” Mica said in a casual voice that hid his feelings. Those he sent to me—dark, angry feels that clicked directly from his brain to mine. Like telepathic text messaging that I both loved and hated. Mica was half of my heart—but, I could never be alone with my thoughts. He saw everything that mattered to me, our secrets sent in clicks and symbols and feelings, back and forth even when we didn’t want to share.
On a harsh hitch I flew sideways, bouncing back down on Blake. “I got you,” Blake said, keeping his arms around me this time. This was Blake, polite and protective. Charming to a fault, protective of everyone. Being this close to him disrupted my equilibrium, and not in a good way. It got worse with every bump and blip. Each time we moved, he’d adjust his arm around me, pulling me closer. Between the forced contact and the bouncing truck, I felt nauseous by the time we arrived at the private beach where the party would be held.
“Everyone else in The Guard went over already,” said Billy’s girlfriend Celeste, walking over to give him a kiss. Celeste wasn’t Pinhold-born and bred but she’d accepted an internship with the Ocean Research Institute for the summer. I’d met her last year when she was interviewing for the position, and I’d come to love her quickly. “So, are you guys ready for this?” Celeste asked to Blake, Mica and me. We each nodded enthusiastically, and went down to the water. I’d waited sixteen years for this and didn’t want to wait a minute longer.
“I’m so curious, even though I know I shouldn’t be!” Celeste whispered in my ear, holding me back. I nodded because she was right.
“They don’t really appreciate curiosity,” I said, agreeing with her. Technically, The Guard was a surf rescue club. They existed in popular surfing spots around the world to supplement the beach lifeguards and they hosted surf carnivals. But here on Pinhold, they acted more like a fraternity, with ceremonies and rituals for members only. Since Celeste hadn’t been born on Island, or descended from of one of the original ten families who had landed here eons ago, she could never get in. Blake, Mica and I at least had a chance.
Scorched Treachery (Imdalind #3) Page 30