“What do you want with me?”
“Many things,” he answered. Warmth flooded from him. Heat crawled over my body. “But it’s obvious you need more exposure to others like us.”
“Let me make this clear, there’s no you and me – and there’s never going to be an us,” I said, making quoting signs as I finished my sentence. What he could possibly want from me made my skin crawl. I doubted that finding out would make it less disturbing.
He nudged his shoulder against mine. Muscle spasms erupted in my arm and upper body, even after he stopped touching me. “You know, it doesn’t have to be this hard, sitting next to me, Gwyneth. If you’d accept my presence instead of combating it, the tension would ease, and dare I say you might even enjoy the affect I have on you.”
“I’m not making myself feel like this,” I said as I put my head between my knees. Praying that the world stopped spinning out of control, I focused on breathing evenly and covered my eyes to block out his glowing silhouette.
“Give it time, I’ll grow on you.”
“You’re not doing anything on me,” I said, but stopped my rant when he began rubbing my back. He worked on the knots, but his touch only made me stiffer. My elbows slipped on my legs. Sweat dripped from my brow. “What do you want from me?”
“You aren’t ready to hear what I have to say,” Jace whispered, as his fingers lingered on my back. “If you can’t sit next to me without having such strong reactions, I sincerely doubt you’re ready for what I have to offer.”
No one else was in the room. What I wanted to say was going to sound crazy, like lock me up insane-crazy, but the question was begging to be asked. “Are you going to kill me?”
Utter silence.
He didn’t move.
The tension in my stomach tightened, but it wasn’t from whatever sickening effect he had on me. It should have been an easy answer – right? No, I’m not going to kill you. Why would there be any reason to hesitate? So why was he hesitating?
My apprehension actually eased, the longer I thought about the absurdity of the question – which made no sense. If someone didn’t give an immediate answer to a question like that, shouldn’t anxiety heighten? Instead, calmness passed over me; I no longer felt like ripping out my stomach and stomping on it. My head no longer pounded like a bass drum. My damp hands dried.
Lowering my hands and opening my eyes, I half expected him not to be there even though I could still feel his hand on my back. His white silhouette still glowed next to me. He whispered words that I didn’t understand. Time passed as I listened to every syllable he spoke. Eventually he got around to speaking my language.
“I’d never kill you, unless you beg me,” he promised.
What kind of a response was that? I imagined my jaw hitting the floor. However my lips barely parted.
“Good, you’re awake,” the nurse said, walking into the room.
“I believe Miss Thompson could use a glass of water,” Jace said cheerfully, hopping off the mattress.
“It’s Patterson,” I said, and then wondered why he would suggest my last name was Thompson – the surname of my foster parents.
“Of course,” he said. A hint of amusement lingered in his voice. He started to walk out of the nurse’s office. “For a second I thought you might be blowing smoke up my –”
“Watch your mouth,” the nurse warned.
“I wasn’t sure if the name your friend gave me at the bowling alley was real,” Jace said. “I thought it might be a fake name and so I did a little investigating.”
Martha raced into the nurse’s office just as Jace left. Long ago she tried convincing me she was as skinny as she wanted to be, (which meant she never dieted and hated exercising but kept herself trim). She had long, flowing brunette hair that retreated in length over the years (meaning that she let Bree come near her with a pair of scissors to practice trimming it) and claimed she wore magnifying glasses to hide her bland green eyes. (There are times that I’ve considered my sight to be better than hers even, even when she wears her thick rimmed glasses.)
Kissing my forehead, Martha deemed I had a fever and needed rest. The nurse suggested I take in extra fluids. I’d sweated through my uniform in the short time Jace played his sick game with me. The sixth-period bell chimed just as Martha escorted me into the hallway. There was nothing like having my foster mother rescue me to cap off a horrendous day.
Squeezing my hand in hers, Martha led me to her ‘91 Ford minivan. In the past twenty years, this vehicle taxied seventeen kids, but I was the only long-term and current resident.
An oversized shadow was leaning against the outside wall of McKesson High, watching Martha and me pull out of the parking lot. It wasn’t until his head twitched that I recognized him as Jace’s friend from the bowling alley. Were they conducting surveillance on me?
I might have been slightly paranoid.
“Martha, does the tall guy leaning against the building have deep red hair?”I asked, remembering that Bree had mentioned his ginger roots.
She looked up. “Winnie, there’s nobody out here.”
***
Martha’s husband showed up after she watched me sip down two bowls of chicken broth that evening. After reassuring his wife that we would call her if anything happened to me, John helped me escape to the sanctuary of my bedroom. Max eagerly followed us, holding a squeak toy in his mouth.
He was the father I never had, or rather the one that had been stolen from me. He wasn’t the type of man who’d wear a suit at work and forget to take it off at home. Serving the Missoula area, John was one of the greatest lawyers that Ashwick employed. Then again, I might have been a touch biased. From what Bree told me, he looked like any dark haired, tired, crusty lawyer on Law and Order but had a smile to die for. Martha always talked about how she fell in love with him because of the sparkle in his eyes. Honestly, she was probably tickled pink that he hadn’t sued her, after she spilled a hot cup of coffee on his designer suit, years ago. Fate wove their destinies together. They fell in love. Unable to have children of their own, they became wonderful role models to countless abandoned children.
“You okay?” John asked, closing my bedroom door.
“Pretty sure I just ate something that disagreed with me, that’s all.”
I’d slipped into a pair of flannel shorts and a purple colored t-shirt as soon as I got home, so I was all ready for bed. I crawled onto the mattress and patted the pillow top so my canine friend knew he was welcome. The entire bed swayed as Max wagged his tail, happy he’d been invited to be my cuddle-bud for the night.
John loosened his tie and sat down next to me. “Martha’s getting a little overprotective, again.”
“She’s going through some kind of kiddo withdrawal.”
“A runaway might be bedding down here for a bit, which might get her off your back,” John said as he pulled my comforter over me. He knew all too well how difficult it was for me to not get attached to the other kids in their care. “But you never know how long kids like that will stick around, so prepare yourself, okay, munchkin?”
“You know I’m not a little girl anymore,” I said, just as I hoped he’d never drop his personal nickname for me. In his eyes, I’d always be the lost little nine-year-old who showed up on his door one snowy evening.
“Of course,” John said as he finished tucking me in. “Are you still up for watching the game with me Thursday night?”
“I’d never miss a kickoff.”
With that he kissed me good-night and left me alone with my thoughts. Sleep evaded me – which wasn’t completely horrible since John tucked me in hours before I normally went to bed. My mind kept drifting to the vision of my demise. I’d be an old woman when death would take me from this life – and I wasn’t wishing it away – but my soul burned for the reason why the young man would kill me. The regret in his eyes before he killed me made my chest hurt. It was clear he didn’t want my death, so how could he go through with it? It’d take a li
fetime for the answer to unravel, but my intuition screamed that it was imperative.
It was well into the night before my eyes finally became heavy. As slowly as sleep took me, I woke suddenly.
I was free-falling. As I collided with the ground, it felt like my body was being ripped into pieces. My skin seemed to melt away from my bones as they crushed under unexplainable pressure. I retched and gagged, fighting the urge to expel everything in my stomach. I held my head as my skull was being crunched. A blast exploded in my ears.
Just as I quickly as I was torn apart, my body pieced itself back together. I screamed into the night sky with the first breath I could take. Gasping for air, I tried to relax, which was exactly the opposite of what my body wanted. My muscles tightened and relaxed like they weren’t sure how to properly respond. I kneeled on my hands and knees, struggling to breathe.
A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek while I trembled on the ground. Horror erupted within me, but my fear brought on the tears – had I just died? It was only then that I realized someone had their hands placed tentatively on my back.
“Just breathe,” Jace whispered.
I choked on the air. I couldn’t. My lungs wouldn’t work properly. Sensing my distress, he began to sing. It was in the language I didn’t understand, but my anxiety lessened.
When breathing became natural again, my awareness of my surroundings heightened. A moonless night revealed little of my surroundings. Few shadows played in the twilight. A light breeze twirled my hair around itself. The air was cooler than it should have been. I shivered. My shorts and thin cotton shirt weren’t much help. Crushed flower petals cushioned my knees and palms. Their refreshing scent complimented the appealing aroma of the young man behind me.
Jace worked knots from my back as I straightened up into a kneeling position. Anticipating my movements, he moved upright with me and situated himself snuggly behind me. His hips molded perfectly against my backside. I told myself that if I wasn’t so confused and shaken, I would push him away and demand answers.
I closed my eyes, concentrating on the aromas around me: burnt wood, flowers, grain… and a hint of Jace’s smoky scent hung in the air as well. His hot breath hit my neck when he whispered my name while I simultaneously heard the name he’d spoken the night we first met. Deino.
My surroundings didn’t make sense, given that I’d fallen asleep in my bed only to wake outside. I had to be sleeping; it was the only logical answer.
“Don’t fight me, not here,” Jace demanded.
Staying as still as possible, I counted to ten. This place didn’t feel real; it couldn’t be real. It had to be some kind of nightmare with a twisted happy ending. Jace confused me; if I was completely honest, I’d admit I was - he scared me. My subconscious was working over time to come up with a dream based on my minor attraction to him.
He whispered my name and slipped his hands lower on my back; a warm rush flowed over me, soothing me from the outside in. I fought the good feeling it brought.
“Stop fighting me,” he commanded.
His demand suggested that he’d man-handle me until I behaved like he wanted. However, his firm hands trembled when I turned to meet his gaze. I planned on telling him to back off. Instead of the white silhouette I expected to see, his black shadow barely showed in the dark night. He looked like everyone. I couldn’t make out very many features.
My mouth parted when his grip tightened around my waist. Okay, so it might have been a major attraction, but it still didn’t mean that I wanted anything to do with him.
A lifetime of seconds passed as I kneeled in front of him. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to walk away because being close to him felt so good – too good.
I couldn’t see what his expression was, read a thought across his eyes, but I felt exactly what he wanted me too, as his warm hands caressed me. A passion burned within him – one I’d lose my breath denying. I felt it too. If this was some kind of joke, we’d both be at the butt of it. I fought an internal battle. I wanted to push him, slap him across his face right after I kissed him.
How could one man be so utterly confusing? He was so unforgettable that apparently even my subliminal thoughts wanted a piece of him. In reality, I’d never give him a chance. His hand slid down to the top of my waist band, interrupting my thoughts.
I wasn’t sure if my voice would obey me, because our primal language our body language spoke was so extreme I could hardly think straight.
“If I were dreaming, you’d be shirtless,” I said.
Without saying a word, he leaned closer against me. His bare chest pressed against my back, warming me with his body heat. It was in that moment, I let myself dream freely instead of fighting it. My shirt was taut until he barely lifted his hands. Sliding his hands under the thin fabric, he rubbed his thumbs over my stomach, while he pressed his hips against me. My skin tingled against his touch. I squirmed. He gripped me tighter, keeping me still.
Grasping my hands in his, he moved them over my stomach, like he didn’t trust himself to touch me the way he wanted. With my hands acting as a barrier, he held my body tight. He pressed his fingers into mine and guided them. My hands drifted over my ribs while his fingertips barely caressed my skin. The faint touch teased me. I moved my hands out from under his so he could do what he wanted. His entire body flexed against me as he tightened his grip around my waist. He took a deep breath of my hair as he pulled me tighter against him with one hand while the other slipped lower over my shorts. Catching my breath, I leaned hard against him.
“You make it difficult for me to concentrate when you gasp like that,” Jace whispered like it was his deepest secret.
He kissed my neck. It was so flawlessly gentle I almost thought his lips didn’t actually brush my skin. I wanted to feel his lips on mine – to taste his kiss. His nose trailed up my neck, reaching the bottom of my ear. He rested his forehead against my temple and breathed slow and steady.
“Escape from reality, Gwyneth,” Jace whispered in my dream. His heat, power, and fervor encased us. His lips hovered above mine, waiting for me to close the gap. “Sometimes it can be too painful to live in, even for immortals.”
Trouble would certainly find me if I got involved with a guy like Jace – unhinged, rebellious…insanely addictive. But dreams were to be an escape from reality; this wasn’t real. What’s the worst that could happen?
“I’ve been imagining your kiss since we met,” Jace whispered.
Since this was a dream there was no harm in admitting the embarrassing truth. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
Every single muscle flexed and went rigid like he was waging a war with himself. He pushed his hips against mine while keeping me molded against him, trapping me. He shivered when I spoke his name. Moving faster than humanly possible, he swung my legs out from under me.
Laying me down on the crushed flowers, he leaned over me only to pull away. It was as if he suddenly changed his mind that he had enough self-control to caress me and not lose it. Without his body over mine, his warmth left. The air was cold.
I closed my eyes, hoping to see him better in my mind’s eye. “What do you look like?” I asked, craving to know if he was as perfect as I imagined his hazy outline to be.
“Skinny, blond, blue eyes,” Jace rattled off quickly.
It was the opposite of Bree’s description of him being the tall, dark, and handsome. “Liar.”
Instead of denying it, he cautiously reached for me and caressed my cheek. He kept his hand there as he gradually slid his body next to mine. He slipped his hand across my bare stomach where my shirt had come up. My body burned where his thumb stroked. I caught my breath again as my skin awoke by his touch. He didn’t press his hand hard against me. He was relaxed, or so I thought until I reached for him. Every muscle my fingers ran across was flexed. I explored his rock-hard chest. I gained confidence the longer he held me. His physique wasn’t enormous, but his muscles were still intimidating. His smooth skin burned hot un
der my touch.
He slid over me without further hesitation and then positioned himself just close enough to be daunting. Confidence radiated from him. He knew exactly what he was doing. Bree was right; he had a lot of practice in the art of seduction.
“My eyes are brown,” he whispered. “They match my hair.”
This time I believed him. I moved my hands up his chest, under his arms, and around his back, seeking out every unblemished feature of his body. My hands found his carved stomach that rippled like water. A small treasure trail led to his pants line.
I swallowed and then did something I’d never have the coolness to do in real life. I used his jeans as leverage to pull him down on me.
“You’ll be the end of me, dearest,” Jace said.
He cupped my face, gently tilting my chin upward. He whispered that the beauty of an entire ocean could not compare to the exquisiteness of my eyes. He closed the gap when a gasp slipped from my throat. A deep groan rose in his chest as his tongue rolled over mine. My passion awoke as I devoured his kiss in my dream.
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