Mat turns again so an upside-down Marley looks at me.
“Say good night, Beauty,” Mateo says.
“Good night, Beauty,” Marley echoes, giggling.
Mat spins again and stalks off in the direction of the spare room. “Sleep well, kids.” Then their door slams shut.
TWENTY-SIX
Emma
Even though it’s still summer, there’s a definite chill that lingers inside the cottage this morning. There’s a wood-burning stove and I assume its function is to keep the place warm, but seeing as how Tristan forgot to get wood, the stove is failing miserably.
Tristan rolls over in bed and kisses my nose. “Your teeth are chattering so hard.”
I snuggle myself closer to him and he wraps his arms around me. Suddenly my teeth stop knocking together and I’m surrounded by him, in warmth.
“Better?”
I nod, keeping my face pressed against his body so I can warm up my nose.
“Sorry,” Tristan says. “I promise I’ll get wood this morning. We’ll have this place warmed up in no time. No more cold nights.”
“Do you think Marley and Mateo . . . ?”
He smiles and says, “I think it’s a safe bet.”
“We should give them space this morning, then,” I say. “Maybe I could just have a quick run—you know, by myself.”
“Maybe not, Peaches. Nice try, though. If you need to run, which we both know you do, you can take me, Mateo, or Marley with you.” He squeezes me. “What’ll it be, door number one, your boyfriend; two, his best friend; or three, your best friend?”
“I can go for a run solo, Tristan. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Tristan shakes his head. “Nope. It’s not open for discussion. Wait till I get back and we can go for a run together, or choose one of the two lovebirds.” He kisses my face again and gets out of the bed, careful to tuck the covers in around me. “I’m going to go now,” he says, “before they wake up.”
“Marley sleeps like my mom on her Halcion,” I say. “If Mateo is anything like that, I figure you have about two hours.”
The sound of a plate crashing and Marley saying, “Shit!” carries into our room.
“Or not,” I say. “Wow. They’re up early.”
“No rest for the wicked. And look at the bright side: you don’t have to wait for me to go on your morning marathon. See you soon, okay?”
I’m not going to win this one. It’s better to just agree, even though I think it’s ridiculous. “Yep,” I say. “Can you get stuff to make s’mores?”
“I think that can be arranged.”
He leaves, and I stay in bed for a while longer before getting up and throwing on a pair of jogging pants, running shoes, and a T-shirt. I gather my hair into a ponytail and wrap the band around my arm that holds my iPod. I never get to listen to it much with Marley in tow, but it’s a ritual that I haven’t deviated from for years. No point in messing with the routine now.
In the kitchen, Marley is packing up a basket, but she stops when she sees me, her face falling. “Really, we have to run, even on vacation?”
I grab a few grapes from the fruit bowl and scrutinize the contents of her picnic basket. A couple of bagels, more fruit, champagne, and orange juice. “Fancy. He must be good in bed,” I tease.
“I heard that,” comes Mateo’s voice from their room. He emerges with a blanket slung over his arm. “And the answer is yes, I am. Isn’t that so, Beauty?”
Marley grins ferociously and turns her attention back to arranging the basket, her cheeks blooming with color.
“After your torture session, we’re going out in the canoe,” she says. “Want to come?”
“I’ll take your pity invite and raise you a no thank you,” I say.
Marley scowls. “It’s not a pity invite, but I was secretly hoping you’d want to go now and forget the jog.”
“Not likely. I tried to convince Tristan to let me go alone but he said no.”
“As he should,” Mateo says. “Safety in numbers.”
Marley turns to Mat. “Can you finish this while I go hate my life for the next thirty minutes?”
He chuckles. “You bet, Beauty. Go ahead.”
Marley changes into workout gear and is beside me in no time. “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you.”
I pull my leg behind me in a stretch. “You’d never hate me, Mar. Besides, it’s good for you. You’ll thank me one day.”
She shrugs and flashes an impish smile. “Yeah, oookay.”
“We’d be halfway done by now if you’d quit griping,” I point out with a grin.
Marley bows and gestures with her arm to the door. “Lead the way.”
My legs move hard and fast, but instead of music blasting in my ears, I’m getting a play-by-play from Marley about her night with Mat. I can’t wipe the smile from my face, feeding off Marley’s excitement, but even so I try to focus on the crunch of twigs and leaves underfoot. It’s a strange feeling to run on a dirt path instead of asphalt. I think I could get used to this. I make a mental note to ask Tristan later if we can spend more time here.
“Em,” Marley is saying, “I can’t remember the last time it was ever that good. I mean, I’m not so sure there even was a last time it was ever that good.”
I move my arms to keep momentum, pulling a bit ahead of her. “Being in love will do that to you. Everything is better. It’s like seeing things in Technicolor.”
“I think it’s too soon for me to be in lo—”
Marley’s voice disappears abruptly. I had been starting to power forward, gaining a bit of speed on the downward slope, so I turn to see where she’s at, if she got stuck behind. Suddenly, something catches in my feet and I am face-to-face with the earth.
The fall rattles my brain, delivering a quick and efficient shock as my cheek slams against the forest floor.
I am barely able to gather my wits before the voice that haunts my dreams dances off the trees.
“Face-first on the ground, the way you belong, you stupid bitch.”
Oh my God. I blink. I blink and pray for my vision to stop spinning as I look around, but all I can see is a pair of running shoes coming toward me and behind them, Marley sprawled out on her belly, not moving. This is a bad dream. A nightmare. I’m going to wake up any second. Wake. Up.
A small sob escapes me, a result of both the fall and the cruel reality of the situation I now find myself in.
Gabe.
Get up. Get up. Get up. Slay the dragon.
I press my palms to the ground and start to bring my knees to my chest, but the moment I lift my stomach off the leaves, Gabe’s foot makes hard contact with my middle, winding me and knocking me back down.
The second my breath returns, I cry out, “Please, don’t hurt her. Please, Gabe.”
“That’s right, beg for it, bitch.” He yanks my ponytail straight up. The force with which my hair tears at the roots causes me to scream out. “Roll over. I wanna see your face,” I hear him say.
I roll over. Not only because he doesn’t give me a choice, but because somewhere in the back of my head, I know it’s going to provide our only chance to escape. Marley. Sweet, sunshine Marley, this can’t happen to her too. I can’t allow it.
Hot tears stream down my cheeks. My teeth press together so hard, I can feel pressure building in my temples. “Leave us alone. Just leave us alone.”
Gabe’s hair is a mess and he has stubble along his jaw—he looks like he hasn’t shaved in weeks. Red rims his eyes and his pupils are so dilated I can’t even see his irises. Those eyes are crazy. They belong to the monster who stole my life from me.
“I tried to leave you alone, Emma, but there you are on social media bragging about your new beau. That’s like rubbing salt in a wound, don’t you think? You’re beautiful as always, E
mma, but not so smart. If you were, you’d have turned off the location service on your phone. My dad’s a cop. It wasn’t even hard to find you, and where’s the fun in that? I didn’t even have to work for it. But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you and your friend. She’s kind of hot, but you—oh, you’re breathtaking.”
I’d spit on him if I could. “Fuck you.”
He delivers a kick to my side. Something cracks and a searing pain scorches across my ribs. I cry out and cough.
“You can run, but you can’t hide, you stupid bitch. You forgot about me. You’re with some fucking pretty-boy douche now? You sure like to brag about it. Tell me, Emma, does he fuck you as good as I do?”
“Please,” I beg. “Please. Stop.”
He puts his foot across my stomach and presses his weight down. I gasp for air as he brings his hand to my collar, ripping open my shirt. The sound of fabric tearing churns my insides violently.
I need to fight.
Mateo’s tattoo flashes through my head.
Fight or Die.
“That’s healed nicely,” he says about my scar, tracing a dirty, callused finger across it. “We’ll have to fix that.”
Fight or Die.
One hand hooks the waistband of my yoga pants, his other pulling my hair to make sure I don’t squirm. His breath is heavy, laced with the unmistakable scent of alcohol. His teeth clench together as he yanks the fabric to my knees.
He rises long enough to take off his own pants, drop back on his knees, and come toward me. Invading my space. His face morphs into Mateo’s. The forest floor becomes Mateo’s boxing ring. As he gets closer, I straighten my arms, making sure my thumbs are out to the sides to grab onto his shoulders. He blinks, stunned.
He tries to pull away, but I dig my nails into his arms until I can feel the tender flesh underneath them break. He stops, grits his teeth, tilts his head to the side, and smirks. “You’ve turned into a feisty thing. You like it rough now, huh?”
Fight or Die.
I dig my nails in harder as he tries to push himself down on me, but he doesn’t move. He’s frozen in my grasp. This grants me enough time to catch my breath and remember what comes next.
Fight or Die.
“You belong to me,” he spits, angrily. “You’re mine.”
My jaw is going to break, it’s clenched together so hard. Fuck you, Gabe. You don’t own me.
“I am mine,” I say. “I’M MINE!” I repeat, screaming it this time, the words having more power than he ever will.
I straighten my left foot and roll my right shoulder to get enough leverage to bring my leg up and plant it directly on his thigh. I do the same thing with my other foot.
As if Mateo had written a script for this very moment, Gabe pulls back a second time. Hot tears are burning my face and my head is spinning, swimming with haunting memories of the last time he was above me. Not this time. Not again. I don’t let him go. As his arms slide through my hands, I lock my fingers at his elbows.
“Let go,” he warns.
Fight or Die.
Mateo’s voice, calm and measured, echoes through my mind. “Bring your feet up and kick the shit out of my face.”
“Not again,” I say. “I won’t let you do this to me again.” I bring my feet up and kick. The side of my right shoe makes contact with Gabe’s jaw. A popping sound follows. I kick again with the left. The skin next to his eye breaks open and a stream of crimson begins to gush from the open wound. My anger eclipses the momentary urge to puke from the blood.
“You stupid bitch!” he hisses.
I kick. Again. And again.
“You’re going to pay for this.” he coughs out, trying to block my blows with his fists.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!
I kick until he quiets. I kick until the monster is unrecognizable. Until the demons that follow me stop consuming me. I kick until my legs burn with fire and rage. “I am mine!” I say again.
He struggles to escape, attempting to pull himself away. “You stupid bitch,” he slurs. Blood and saliva drip from his mouth, the side of his head, and God knows where else. “You’re asking for it.”
His words push me to keep going. I didn’t ask for him to destroy my life. I didn’t ask to be a prisoner to fear. My assault soon turns from a necessary measure to a brutal release of what he’s done to me. The security he took from me, the nightmares he gave me. The sense of self that was lost for so long.
The helpless me is gone. She died in Stonefall. I buried her next to the memories of my past.
I kick. Again. And again. And again.
The years of running have made my legs exceptionally powerful. They deliver an uncompromising and vicious attack. My muscles beg me to stop, but I don’t. I can’t.
I kick. Again. And again. And again.
I kick until the monster stops moving. I kick until he falls on top of me in a bloody heap and then . . . I scream.
“Emma!” a hoarse voice answers in the distance.
Tristan.
I see him down the trail. The muscles in his neck are corded, feet planted far apart, his hands clenched at his sides.
Tristan
Blind rage.
I understand it now. How a person can go from being perfectly rational one moment to feeling raging fury the next. I’m going to kill the bastard.
I fly forward and grip the back of the fucker’s shirt and haul him off Emma.
That’s when I see what she’s done.
His face looks like it has met Mateo’s fists on a bad day. It’s unnaturally swollen everywhere, black and blue. His left eye is fused shut and blood is coming out of his nose, his ears, and his mouth.
Holy shit.
His breath is ragged and I want to strangle him until it stops altogether.
“Tristan!” Her voice saying my name jolts me from my fantasy. I drag his body a good ten feet from her and dump him on the ground, still unable to wrap my head around what the fuck went down.
I glance over at Marley, running to her and checking for a pulse. It’s strong. She’s very much alive. She must have gotten knocked out. I text Mateo, 911! Call 911! He knows the trail; he knows how to find us here.
She did it! Emma freaking did it!
The girl with the sad smile.
The second I saw her, I fell in love.
Emma.
She’s clutching her side, coughing, rolling over.
I race to where she is, careful not to move her or jostle her. My hands are shaking like mad. “Em,” I say, my voice raspy. “Emma, what did he do?”
“Marley,” she says. “Tristan, go to Marley.”
“She’s fine,” I assure her. “I think she got knocked out cold. She’s okay, though. You saved her. You saved you.”
She’s crying, tears running a trail in the dirt that stains her face. Her left cheek is swelling fast. She grimaces, and turns, gripping her side. “I think he broke my ribs,” she says.
“Don’t move,” I tell her. “You have to stay still, Emma. Don’t move.”
It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to stay here beside her rather than go and kill him with my bare hands, if she hasn’t done so already. She’s still sobbing, so I do the only thing I can, and run my fingers through her hair. “You’re so brave,” I whisper.
Mateo appears, his eyes the size of UFOs as he takes in the scene. He rushes over to Marley, shaking his head, as he drops to his knees beside her. “Beauty.” He rolls her over, brushing hair from her face with his fingertips.
Her eyelids flutter. “W-what happened?”
Mateo helps her sit up, then scoops her into his arms. “I’m getting you out of here,” he says. “Then that douche is dead. I’m going to kill him.”
Emma’s hand settles on top of mine, even though I just told her not to move. �
�I did it,” she says through tears. “I slayed the dragon.”
God, I love her. Beautiful, broken, strong Emma. “You did. You don’t have to run anymore.”
Emma
I’m seeing fucking stars and I feel nauseous. Tristan’s face is dark, his features pulled back in even measures of anger and relief.
His words don’t sink in but rather linger in the air, just out of reach.
I see a blurry image of Mateo carrying Marley in his arms. She looks like she belongs there.
“I can’t breathe,” I say. “It hurts to breathe.”
Tristan doesn’t take his eyes off me. His lips move, I think he’s yelling something to the people in uniforms coming up behind Mateo, but I have no idea what he’s saying. Even anguished, he is beautiful.
Tristan.
My Tristan.
It’s the last thought I have before I close my eyes.
I wake to a sterile smell. It’s reminiscent of when I almost died. When I woke from surgery with my abdomen sewn together. No sooner do my eyelids flutter open than they are filled with the image of Tristan’s face.
“Mornin’, Peaches,” he says.
“Where am I?” I try to sit up, but a stabbing pain shoots directly down my side and almost winds me.
“Shh,” he says. “Lie back down, dragon slayer. You’re in the hospital.”
I remember, gasp, and fly upright despite the searing burn in my side. “Gabe?”
“That fucker is here too,” Tristan says. “He’d be in the morgue if it weren’t for the fact that he’s guarded by two policemen and handcuffed to the hospital bed. You fucked him up pretty good, Em. The cops had to physically restrain Mateo from finishing him off. I had to remind him that he doesn’t need any trouble now that he’s got Marley. Do me a favor and lie back down.”
I do as he says. “Oh my God.”
Tristan’s hand nears my face before changing direction and tucking my hair behind my ear. “You scared me,” he says. “I was so worried about you.”
“M’sorry.”
“Shh,” he says again. “Don’t apologize.”
The Enchantment of Emma Fletcher Page 24