Reclaimed(13)
Author: Diane Alberts

What the hell had just happened?

An inhuman, and non-animalistic, snarl broke through the silence of the house, echoing loudly in her ears. She blanched at the somehow familiar sound. Where had she heard it before?

Good God, it sounded just like in her dreams. She jumped back in alarm and began searching for a weapon. She had to help Isaac.

No matter how much it sounded like her dream, it was real, and in real life, growls like those were generally caused by large animals looking for meals. She grabbed the biggest butcher knife she had and sped back to the door.

She threw it open and crashed, then bounced off of Isaac’s hard chest. His arm, which had been raised to knock, shot behind her to steady her, and she hastily checked her knife hand.

Thank God, she hadn’t stabbed the poor guy.

Relief swelled over her at seeing him whole and uninjured. But relief was overcome by confusion at his fuming glare. He let go of her and closed the door.

“You didn’t listen to me,” he snapped. “I told you not to open the door until I said, ‘Sabrina, it’s Isaac, I’m ready to watch Harry Potter’. Instead, you grab a knife and try to kill me?” He rubbed his jaw and paced in short, irritated strides.

An answering anger rose in her, and she responded, “I was trying to help, you ass. If I wanted to stab you, I can assure you, you wouldn’t be standing here arguing now.”

They glowered at each other in silence until he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away. I shouldn’t have yelled. Forgive me?” He smiled crookedly, and her irritation dissolved a bit.

“I’m sorry, too. I should have been more careful. You’re right. But once I saw you, I relaxed. I knew I would be safe with you. Unless you have a twin running around?” She didn’t know what had made her say those words, but she instantly regretted it. Reality and fiction were getting blurred together, and she didn’t like it.

Her heart dropped when his smile melted away, to be replaced by the face of a cold, hard stranger. “Yes, actually, I do. My brother we spoke about is my twin. We no longer talk. He’s a dangerous person. Reckless. As of now, I don’t even know where he lives,” he snapped.

This man, standing before her, resembled the man in her dreams. His eyes glittered, and a hard mask came over his face as he glowered at her. She shuddered at his expression. He seemed so…unforgiving.

His words suddenly clicked in her head, and a whoosh of air left her lungs, and none returned. He had a twin, an identical twin. Blackness swam in front of her eyes, and she reached a hand out to the wall to steady herself.

Air. Air is important.

She took a deep breath and focused on Isaac once more. He leaned in toward her, his face no longer icy and cold. Instead, concern clouded over his eyes, and he fumbled for her.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. She didn’t think she could put two syllables together right now, let alone a whole sentence. This changed everything. This brought her dreams into day—and it blurred every line she had drawn.

“Sabrina, please. Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded in her ear.

“I’m…I’m okay,” she stammered. “I’m sorry. I think all the…excitement got to me.” She finished on a whisper. She did her best to look suitably weak and probably failed miserably. Weak damsels in distress weren’t her style.

How exactly did one feign feebleness anyway?

Maybe she should have fanned herself with feminine flourish as they did in movies so well? Eh, probably not. He already studied her far too close. As if he yearned to say something to her—demand something of her—but held back. Though his reasons for doing so were unknown, she remained grateful he did.

What a mess her life was rapidly becoming. As if her dreams weren’t odd enough, now she came to find out he indeed had a twin brother. One he hated?

What the hell was going on?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m okay. And, I’m sorry about your brother. That must be…uh…well…tough,” she stuttered. Man, she sounded like a veritable font of eloquence tonight.

The cold mask returned, and she took a step away from him. “I know you’re dying to know what happened, so I’ll tell you. There was a woman. Amelia. She was everything good in the world. Beautiful, kind, charming. We were in love, and due to be married. Elijah, my brother, had been promised to another woman, but he loved my Amelia. There were some problems, and Amelia…died.” His voice faded away on the last word.

It appeared obvious to her from the tightened fists at his side and the hard set of his mouth as he pressed his lips together, the hurt plagued him still.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. How horrible. I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, well, it happened a long time ago. Time moves on, people heal. But I have no interest in speaking to him, or even knowing where he is. The whole situation was his fault. If he hadn’t—” He bit his lip and looked away. She wondered what he had been about to say. The cold mask he seemed to put over his face when he no longer wished to speak on a subject came back, though, so she dared not ask. “Well, now that I’ve ruined the evening, maybe we should call it a night, hmm?”

“You could stay here. On the couch, I mean. If you want. I’m kinda freaked out,” she said. He stared at her, and she shifted on her feet at his scrutiny. Maybe it had been a mistake to invite him to stay. Something was going on here, something bizarre. And he was smack dab in the middle of it. And yet, she’d invited him to spend the night?

A loud bang sounded outside the window, and she jerked at the noise. She raised her hand still gripping the knife and started toward the window in determination. She’d had enough of this shit, already. Isaac stretched out to stop her and chuckled.

“Sheath the knife. It’s just the wind. It must have kicked up some debris.” He reached forward prudently to extract it from her rigid grip.

Over his shoulder, she saw a shadow move in the darkness. “I just saw someone out there. Whoever you chased away is back! I’m calling the cops.” She whirled on her heel and grabbed the knife back from him in one smooth gesture. She sprinted to the kitchen, knife in hand.

“First of all, let’s take this before someone gets hurt.” He snatched the weapon back from her once more.

“Hey,” she protested. She held her hand out with an impatient wave, and put the other on her hip. “Give me back my knife.”