She didn’t remember taking any steps, but they were suddenly at the back door.
James pulled open the door. The cool air of the quickly approaching night touched her like sharp claws raking across her skin. Emma fought the urge to scream and jump away. She couldn’t manage to stop her sudden intake of breath.
James tightened his hold on her hand, yet still his grip was gentle. “You can do this, Emma. You can do this with me. Just hold on to my hand. I’m right here beside you. I won’t let you go.”
His hand was so warm, so strong. She was probably squeezing it hard enough to break his fingers. But even the thought wasn’t enough to force her to loosen her grip. Now, she felt every step. As if her feet were suddenly each twenty pounds heavier, she had to concentrate to move. Then they were out on the deck in the cool October night.
“Oh, I can’t breathe,” she said. “I can’t.” She really had believed she was safe with James. She really had thought that with James holding her hand, she could become a part of the night, see the stars and breathe in the night air. She couldn’t. He held her hand tightly as she tried to pull away, tried to slide back into the house. The coldness of the dark was like being under water and knowing she couldn’t come up for air. Her chest was tight, as if something indefinable gripped her middle and wouldn’t allow her chest to expand for a much-needed breath. Her mouth was dry, her chest so tight she couldn’t swallow.
James took her other hand and held it just as tightly, forcing her to face him. “Look at me. I’m right here with you. I won’t let anything hurt you ever. I promise.”
She stopped pulling against him and looked up at him. His eyes appeared to glow and sparkle in the shadows. Emma couldn’t look away. She didn’t even want to look away. She wanted to move closer to him. Her desire to touch him, to touch every inch of him, was back, stronger than ever. And she wanted nothing more than to touch him and let him touch her, right out here on the deck, making them both part of the night.
“Take a deep breath.”
She did, following his lead. Her breasts touched his chest with the movement. His closeness sent a shiver through her and, at the same time, compelled her to be even closer to him. She fought against the urge to lean into him.
“Now I want you to look around. Let yourself see that there’s nothing out here,” he said. “Nothing but you and me and things that belong out here.”
She clung to his hands, shivering uncontrollably, yet able to do what he asked after several more long breaths. She still wanted to lean against him, bury her face against his chest and just listen to the strong sound of his heartbeat while she closed her eyes to the terrifying darkness. Her heart still raced, but her legs grew stronger and she didn’t have to fight the need to bolt. Licking her lips, she even managed to offer him a small, quick smile.
He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Don’t be afraid.”
Emma concentrated on the sound of his voice, so sure, so certain. It was so easy to listen to him.
“Listen to the night sounds,” he went on softly.
The night was filled with sounds, a distant owl and leaves rustling in the breeze that gently blew Emma’s hair. The chilly air became easier to work through her lungs.
James breathed in the sweet, flowery smell of Emma’s hair. He wanted to lean down and kiss her eye lids, one then the other. He held back. This was about getting her over her fear, not adding to it. “Now look up at the stars,” James said. He stepped closer to her. Her warmth nearly burned him. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiarity of her sweet scent. She smelled like soft flowers in the woods, earthy, inviting and alluring. She had no idea how intoxicating her smell was mixed with the night air.
He nearly followed her lead and looked up at the stars, too, but when she looked up, she exposed her throat to him. He saw her pulse through her fair skin, and he wanted to touch it, feel it beneath his fingertips and his lips. Reaching up gently, he placed his hands on her throat, his fingers splaying the sides of her neck, with his thumb on each carotid. He felt her pulse, strong and steady. The simple feel of her life’s blood sent a tingle into his hands and up his arms to his heart. Against his chest, he felt the same strong beat of her heart.
He would stand out here forever if that was how long she wanted to stare at the night sky. The clouds were gone, and the sky was perfectly clear, filled with what must have been millions of stars. When she took a heavy breath, it pressed her body more against his. Her heat washed through him.
“Do you think that beings on other planets look up and admire our sun and make wishes on it?” she asked.
James had to clear his throat before he could speak. “I hope so.”
With his hands still on the slender column of her throat, James stared at her, memorizing every contour of her face. He thought his heart would melt when she gave him a slow, easy, genuine smile. And he returned it.
“It’s funny how I had forgotten,” she said softly.
“Forgotten what?” he asked.
“How very beautiful they are,” she whispered.
“You’re beautiful, too,” he whispered back.
His words startled her. He hadn’t meant to do that. Yet, at the same time, he was taken aback by the desire he saw in her eyes. There was no mistaking the need he felt in his hands on her neck. Beneath his palms, her pulse began to race. He felt her emotions, too. She was more surprised than she was afraid. And she was just as surprised by her own response to his closeness, his touch. Along with emotions, he felt her curiosity and her wanting to have him touch more than her throat.
“I see the way you’re looking at me,” she said.
“And?”
“I’ve known you for years. I’ve touched you while I stitched you up. And until now, I never knew your feelings. Why didn’t you ever say anything to me before?” she asked.
He looked at her, and for a long moment didn’t quite know how to answer. “I’ve always made a point to speak to you whenever I’ve seen you,” he reminded her, not understanding her question.
“No, I mean why didn’t you ever ask me to dinner or tell me you had feelings for me?”
“Because I knew you weren’t ready to accept anything I might say or ask,” he pointed out. “And I didn’t think I could handle the rejection.”
Emma didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know whether to laugh or not. This was so new to her. And even though she touched patients every day, it felt like a lifetime since she’d really touched another human being or allowed anyone close enough to touch her. She found herself as drawn to his touch and as drawn to his warmth as a moth is drawn to flame. “How did you know I would accept it now?” she had to ask.
He shrugged lightly. “Maybe I just got tired of waiting and took a chance.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for letting me feel alive again.”
James didn’t think that she’d still be so thankful after he told her his suspicions. He let the subject drop. Another sudden gust of wind touched them, and James looked up and toward the woods. “We need to go back inside,” he said.
Emma took another breath, and he could have sworn her nipples touched his chest. There might have been layers of clothing between them, but to James, it didn’t matter. He felt her heartbeat and the heat of her skin as deeply as he smelled her intoxicating scent. If he stood out in the darkness with her much longer, he’d be lowering her to the boards of the deck and making her his. And despite how much he wanted her, he didn’t want her that way.
He wanted her to give herself to him. He didn’t want to take anything from her, not ever. Too much had been taken from her already.
“Wait,” she said softly. “I want to look again. I can’t believe how wonderful the stars look. I feel free looking at them.”
James couldn’t believe she was still with him, holding his hands. Her smile mesmerized him.
“You were right,” she said.
If she knew what he was thinking just then and what he w
anted to do with her, she’d be running away from him, he thought. “About what?” he forced out through a tight throat.
“I can’t let him hurt me anymore. Thank you for helping me face this. Did you mention chocolate ice cream?”
Chapter Six
Things that Slither
While James and Emma stared at the stars, Glenda Farmington hurriedly answered the telephone before it rang a fourth time. Although why she bothered, she wasn’t sure. She was almost certain it was her mother, in which case she would be much better off letting the machine answer it and pretending she was already out the door. Her mother simply didn’t understand most things. And of course, her mother would never understand her relationship with Quinn.
In her short time with Quinn, she’d shared so much. They were so close now that they could even communicate psychically. Although how, she had no idea, but then she’d never been in love with anyone as she was with Quinn. Only moments ago, she’d heard his voice in her thoughts as he told her fill the sink and tub with water. He’d gone on to instruct her to put her hands in the water and splash it on her face. When she’d asked him why, he’d replied that knowing she was wet turned him on, and he had known she’d planned to visit him. He waited for her.
“Hello?”
“Glenda, darling, how are you?”
It was her mother. She definitely should have let the machine answer it.
“Mom, I’m great. How are you?” The question was really just a formality.
“Now that I’ve reached you, I’m fine. You didn’t call yesterday. I was worried sick.”
Glenda tried to smile and hoped it sounded like she smiled in her voice. Worrying was, after all, what her mother did best, besides finding fault with Glenda. “I was busy yesterday.” Her mother probably wouldn’t accept that excuse.
“You’ve been busy with that new boyfriend of yours, haven’t you?” her mother asked.
Glenda wanted to ask how she managed to make something so simple and beautiful sound like a crime. Yes, she had a boyfriend. Yes, she was busy with him. Yes, for the first time in her life, she’d allowed herself to be in love.
“Yes, Mom, I have been,” she admitted. “And his name is Quinn.” It was a perfectly romantic name for a perfectly romantic man. He was, after all, exactly the kind of man she’d always dreamed about, although she was smart enough not to mention this to her mother. Her mother would merely scold her for following her heart and falling for a romantic with dark hair and dark eyes instead of some doctor or lawyer or some other scholarly type man who could support her and make a great deal of money. Glenda thought Quinn could easily grace the cover on any of the romance books she loved to read. Perhaps the two of them could grace the cover together, him with his hands on her arms as he held her to him, the wind blowing her hair, the bodice of her dress revealing a hint of the creamy flesh she wished she possessed and probably could if a great artist painted her on the cover. Wait a minute, why didn’t she paint her own cover? She was, after all, an artist, despite the fact that her mother always called her passion a “mere hobby.”
“Are the two of you having sex?” her mother asked bluntly, cutting off Glenda’s wild imagination.
“Of course not,” Glenda lied.
Quinn had moved into the other side of the duplex three weeks ago. And the truth was she and Quinn had had sex every day for the past week. She still couldn’t believe it had happened so quickly. One day, she met him when he came to introduce himself, shaking her hand like a gentleman, and to let her know he’d moved in so that she wouldn’t be alarmed when she heard his stereo through the duplex’s wall. A week later, they were in her bed. Quinn taught her, showed her, pleasured her in so many things that every experience was a new experience in pleasure. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. And now that she’d been given a taste of passion, she couldn’t get enough of him, either. It was much better than anything she’d ever read in a book. Always, he came over to her bed. Tonight she’d planned to surprise him, but she already knew he was expecting her. Her insides tingled with anticipation and she refused to let her mother put a damper on it.
“I really need to go, Mom, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t,” her mother put in. “Now that you’re out on your own, living your own dreams, you don’t have time for an old woman like me. And I hope you’re spending some of your free time filling out college applications for this spring instead of constantly drawing, like usual.”
Glenda worked two jobs in order to pay the rent on the duplex. It was well worth the price to get out from under her mother’s thumb and to only have to listen to her criticism over the phone, even if it did leave Glenda very little time for her art. And yet, she couldn’t seem to get away from the guilt her mother always seemed to stir up.
“That’s not true,” Glenda tried to lie. But really, if she cut the phone calls down to once a week and visits to once a month, her life would be much smoother. Glenda loved her mother, she really did. She just didn’t understand why loving her had to be so hard. It didn’t matter when she called her mother or when she saw her, and it didn’t matter what she tried to talk about, her mother always found fault with it. Her mother always tried to make whatever Glenda did sound like something dirty or unnecessary or unwelcome. Her job at the store wasn’t good enough. It didn’t pay enough since she also had to work two evenings a week at the Quick Mart to pay her bills. And why would she want to work in a grocery store just to live on this island? Why couldn’t she take some night classes and better her education so she could get a better job and make more money? And why did she want to spend every spare moment drawing in her sketchbook when she could do something that made more money? And Glenda never got enough sleep or ate the right foods. She was looking too thin. When it came to her mother, the criticism could go on forever.
Now she had a boyfriend, a man named Quinn who treated her like a queen, and all her mother could do was ask if they were having sex before turning the topic back around to herself and scolding Glenda for forgetting about her. It wouldn’t be too long before her mother blamed Quinn for taking away Glenda’s attention.
Glenda took a heavy breath. “I really need to go, Mom.”
“That’s fine,” her mother replied sarcastically. “Go ahead, don’t worry about me. I’m sure I’ll be fine. You’d probably have more time for me if it wasn’t for this new boyfriend.”
See.
Glenda rolled her eyes, debating simply hanging up. Then she looked at the floor and didn’t hang up. She didn’t even hear her mother’s next words.
The rug she had put on the floor two weeks after moving into the duplex to make the room warmer and more inviting rippled slightly, as if it had suddenly turned to water and someone had cast a stone into it.
Glenda stared.
The anticipation that had been shivering through her lower abdomen with her thoughts about Quinn grew into a shiver that moved up her spine and caused her hair to stand up on the back of her neck. Fear and tension suddenly filled the room like a dense fog that made it hard for her to breathe.
“Mom, I really have to go,” she said absently. “I think there’s a mouse or something in here, and I want to go after it.”
She didn’t really think it had been a mouse, and yet, there had been a ripple of sudden movement. Perhaps she simply hadn’t seen it clearly. She blinked several times, as if that might clear her vision.
Her vision was already clear.
“I told you that you never should have moved out and into that place. I told you that you should have stayed with your mother where you belong,” her mother squawked into the phone. “This whole island is probably infested with mice, or worse, rats, as well as cockroaches and a million other kinds of crawling things, and you’re paying a lot of money to live with them. Now who is the stupid one? They don’t have to pay. They don’t have to work two jobs.”
“Good-bye, Mom.” Glenda hung up before her mother could get in another word.
She watched the floor and set the cordless phone on the table. There was a ripple of movement again, and she thought she caught sight of . . .
. . .a tail.
It was a slithery looking long, black tail, reminding her of a snake. She actually shuddered.
Glenda hated snakes.
Glenda was terrified of snakes.
It couldn’t have been a snake. There was no way a snake could get in here. She didn’t leave her doors or windows open, and there were storm doors on every entrance. There were no holes in the floor. She didn’t hang laundry outside where she could bring one in inside a basket. Besides, it was October, pretty late for snakes to be around.
Unless, of course, they were looking for a warm place to take up residence. Yet, that was one of the things that had drawn her to the island in the first place. Contradictory to its name, there were no snakes on Medusa’s Island.
The floor rippled again, and Glenda thought she saw another tail, smaller than the first, slither under her sofa.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She stared after the snake-looking tail, still telling herself it couldn’t be possible. Yet, she saw this one rather clearly. She suddenly couldn’t breathe. She needed to get out, simply get out of the duplex. There must be a nest of them in here, although how and where, she couldn’t imagine. And why were they all coming out now?
She would run over to Quinn’s side of the duplex and tell him. They could call the police, or animal control, or whoever was necessary to come and clear the slithering things out of her place. Slowly, she backed toward the door. With her hand, she reached behind her back and grasped the doorknob of the front door.
Only what she thought was the doorknob wasn’t.
It wasn’t cool metal as she expected. It was warm and dry and scaly and moved within her palm.
Glenda screamed and jumped away, trying to breathe with some rhythm. She found she couldn’t. To her horror, there was a long, black snake wrapped around the doorknob, its body, just beyond its head, looped around once, its long tail hanging down to the floor. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. She told herself this couldn’t be real. But the snake staring at her, raising its head with an easy flow of muscles, flicking its forked tongue at her again and again, looked very, very real.
No Fear Page 6