The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(40)
Author: M. Leighton

When I arrived at the house, I saw that it was dark inside. Derek obviously hadn’t come back and I was keenly disappointed.

My body was suffering the after affects of an adrenaline rush. I was shaking from head to toe. Carefully, I pulled the car into the empty garage then got out on unsteady legs to close the door. I left the car’s headlights on and turned on every light I passed as I made my way into the kitchen then on to my bathroom where I turned on the shower and started shedding clothes.

As I peeled my jeans off, the necklace fell out of the pocket. I picked it up, holding it in the bright fluorescent lighting so I could study the charm. I wasn’t all that familiar with the saints and Catholic lore, but I thought it looked like a St. Christopher’s medal. I turned it over and read the engraving.

Safe travels, my son.

I hung the necklace on the edge of the medicine cabinet for safekeeping then got in the shower.

When I take a shower, I like the water nearly scalding. If I don’t look like a lobster when I get out, I don’t feel clean. And, though I’m used to the burn of hot water, this time I flinched when it hit my skin. It stung in an unusual way on my chest.

I looked down and saw four long, deep gashes that traveled the length of my sternum. Each scratch exposed a track of pearly white beneath my skin. I remembered feeling the man’s nails digging into me and realized that, in his struggle to hang on to me, he wounded me.

I cleaned the angry-looking scratches well then finished showering and got out to towel off. The bathroom was steamy, the mirror completely fogged up. Before I wrapped my towel around my head, I used it to wipe the moisture from the mirror so I could see.

With two wide swipes, the glass was clear. Still jumpy, I lowered my towel slowly, thinking of all the scary movies I’d seen where there is another reflection in the mirror.

Scoffing, I gingerly let my arm fall. I was relieved that there was no face other than my own in the mirror. I turned toward the door and bent over to wrap my towel around my wet hair. When I straightened, my breath caught in my throat. There was a shape in the mist.

Though much of the detail was lacking, I knew instantly who the colorless form in the steam was. The question was: what did she want.

Finally, I took a deep breath to calm myself as I backed away from her. When the cool ceramic of the sink hit my butt, I stopped. She didn’t move and, this time, she didn’t speak. She just stared at me with eyes that were still perceptibly empty, even in the mist.

When it became evident she wasn’t going to speak, I asked, “What do you want?” There was fear and reservation in my quiet voice and I hated that. Though I felt weak at that moment, caught off guard, I didn’t want her to know that.

Still, she neither spoke nor moved. An unexpected wave of frustration washed away my fear. “What do you want?” This time my voice was louder and stronger, more demanding. More in control.

This interlude was unlike the others (if my crazy dreams could even be considered as “interludes”). Though her expression was carefully blank as she stared at me, I got the distinct impression that she was angry. She didn’t beckon to me, she didn’t ask for my help, she didn’t seem curious or desperate or even friendly. Somehow, she seemed hostile.

I took a step forward. She didn’t move. I took another step and then another, but still she didn’t move. I lifted my hand and swiped it through the mist, through her form. She disappeared for just a second. And when I saw her face materialize in the mist once more, her lips were curved in a chilling smile.

My ever-ready anger pushed through my alm. I shouted, “What do you want?”

She opened her mouth, her top lip curling up into a sneer. I thought she was going to speak, but, just then, the bathroom door opened. A gust of cool air rushed in, chasing her away with the thick steam. Her image dissolved as if it had never been.

Derek stood on the threshold, a look of concern puckering his brow.

“Why didn’t you lock the garage door? And why are the car lights on? What’s the matter?”

Like a punctured balloon, I felt suddenly deflated and unspeakably exhausted. I was so tired of heartache and fear, of uncertainty and worry, of complicated. For the first time I could ever remember, I craved simple. Not breathtaking or exciting or dangerous, just simple. And safe.

I looked at Derek. Perversely, one of the biggest complications in my life was standing right in front of me. The perverse part of it was that I craved him more than I craved simplicity, craved him so much that I could almost hate him for coming into my life. Almost.

But he was also my biggest source of safety. And, as always, I was inexplicably drawn to him. I took the few steps that would bring me into his arms and I wound my arms around his neck, melting into him. I absorbed his strength and heat, his power and security as it bled from his skin into mine.

He was relaxed at first, his arms coming around me in a warm embrace, one meant to comfort. Then, slowly, electricity began to crackle between us, as it always did. I became aware of the cool leather of his jacket where it was pressed against my naked skin, of the rough skin of his palms as they rubbed my back soothingly.

He must’ve felt the shift in my mood because his touch changed. His hands moved purposefully over my skin, warm with the passion that always lay just beneath the surface. They stroked my back and bu**ocks, hinting at the wicked pleasures they could bring.

I pressed my lips to his neck. His hands moved to my sides, traveling up toward the sides of my br**sts. My body was already on fire when his hands stopped suddenly and he stiffened.

“What’s that?”

I was still caught up in the moment, my head fuzzy with desire. “What?” I answered, pressing my body more tightly to his.

“Carson,” he snapped, the seriousness of his tone like a bucket of cold water. “What is that?”

He pulled away from me so that he could look down into my face.

“What’s what?”

“That necklace,” he said nodding toward the mirror behind me.

What his tone hadn’t done to sober me, his question had. How easy it was to forget the world when I was in his arms.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly aware of my nakedness. I took the towel from my head and busied myself with covering my nudity before I answered. “That.” I turned and walked to the mirror, taking the chain off the medicine cabinet and holding it out to him. “Just a little something I picked up tonight.”

He took the necklace from me and I stepped past him into the bedroom to get some pajamas.