CHAPTER EIGHT

The moment I hit the pavement, pain shoots up my shoulder and the weight of the child in my arms knocks the air from my lungs.

The little girl’s coat brushes my arm as I lunged just in time. Holding her against my chest, eyes shut against the pain.

The car swerves violently, horn blaring, the screech of tires ripping through the cold air. The acrid smell of burning rubber stings my nose as the world narrows to the pounding of my heart

People are yelling. Some at him, and some to me. Brittany is still shouting my name.

My heart thuds in my ears as I stare at the girl, who blinks up at me with wide eyes and trembling lips.

“You okay?” I whisper, not sure if the question is for her or me.

She nods, barely. A woman rushes over, her mother, probably, sobbing as she grabs the child from my arms and embraces her tight.

I sit there for a moment in silence, stunned, the edges of the world blurry and unreal.

“Elowen!” Brittany drops down beside me, grabbing my shoulders. “What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know, I just… moved.” I stand up and dust off my jacket, still trying to catch my breath.

“No, Lovie, moved is not the word. I could barely see you.” She stares at me like she’s never seen me before. “That was crazy.”

The woman is saying thank you to me and simultaneously scolding her daughter, tapping her body and asking where it hurts. People are starting to disperse now, but I can still hear their silent whispers.

“I didn’t think, I just ran,” I shake my head, unable to make sense of the moment. My limbs still tremble with…”adrenaline.”

Yeah. That has to be it. Adrenaline.

“That’s wild.” Brittany shakes her head, looking just as confused as I am. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Not really,” I shrug. Though the sting in my shoulder still lingers.

We eventually make our way back home, silent the whole walk. Brittany doesn’t ask any more questions, and I don’t offer any answers. What would I even say?

How do you explain something that even your own body won’t explain to you?

At night, I lie in bed with my curtains half open. The winter sky glowing pale outside my window.

I can’t sleep, not really. Even after making sure to go through my assignment several times before eventually submitting. I keep replaying the moment in my head, the weird speed of my body. The way I just knew.

It’s almost like someone spoke to me, that someone ran into the street to save that little girl, not Elowen. But somehow in a way I can’t understand, that someone is still me.

I curl up beneath the blanket, eyes flicking toward the sky. The moon is almost full, shining too brightly for something so far away.

And then, like clockwork,

I’m not in my bed anymore.

————-

The dream takes me this time like a lover pulling me under water.

The water is freezing against my skin. The moon is too bright and the silence is so thick that I can hear my breathing. Across the water, something stirs. He rises from the surface glistening.

I would be lying if I say I haven’t been waiting for this.

He lifts a hand and beckons but I don’t move at first. Then he begins to swim towards me with his hand outstretched, so I stand, and that’s when I realize I’m naked too. But I step into the river anyway.

His skin is warm and without a word, he pulls me deeper. Then gently, he moves behind me, hands in my hair. He begins to wash me, slow, soft strokes across my whole body. He carries water in the cup of his palm and gently rinses my neck, my shoulders, and the line of my throat.

It feels more than cleansing. It’s like he’s, repairing something.

When he reaches for me again, I step into his arms and he pulls me close, one hand at the base of my spine, the other cradling my face. His mouth is against mine fiercely in seconds, and I melt.

I moan into the kiss, threading my hands through his hair, deepening the kiss until I gasp softly, breath mingling as I sink deeper into that warmth, letting desire flood every part of my trembling body.

His lips move to my jaw, making its way down my neck, my chest, and the curve of my breasts. My nipples perk up in response, waiting for his touch, his tongue.

Then he sinks beneath the surface.

At first, I think he’s gone. I gasp, but I feel him immediately, I feel the way his mouth brushes the inside of my thighs so gently like he’s exploring me. His hands grips my legs, pulling me slightly apart, holding me steady in the water.

And then-

Oh God.

His mouth finds me. Warm, full, wet and ready.

One hand grips his wet hair. The other presses to my chest, trying to keep me from coming apart as tiny moans slip out.

The water laps around my waist and my breath comes in sharp, stuttering gasps. Every flick of his tongue sends sparks across my skin. He sucks on my bud like he’s trying to drink the need right out of me. The pressure builds, so I arch into him, thighs trembling, so close…

But suddenly, he pulls away.

He rises from the river, face wet, expression unreadable, but his eyes burn that same silver.

“Why do you keep stopping?” I whisper, breathless, and a little angry “Why?”

“Not yet,” he says. His voice is low, heavy with restraint.

What do you mean not yet?

“You have to be ready. You need to be-”

Ringggg

The night vanishes in silence, and I wake up drowning in my sweat. The dream still clinging to me like water.

I swear I can still feel his touch. Fuck.

That dream… it was too real. Too short. I need more.

My phone buzzes again. I reach for it, blinking through sleepy eyes.

MOM calling.

I hesitate for a second, then swipe to answer.

“Hey,” I croak. My voice rougher than I expected.

“Elowen?” Her voice is soft and concerned. “You okay honey?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

I hate to lie to my mom like that. I know she cares about me but she can be too much when she gets worried sometimes, treating me like I’m a fragile child. So I won’t worry her. I can’t worry her.

“Are you sure?” she asks gently. “You sound, out of breath.”

“Oh, I just woke up.”

Out the window, the sun is slowly making its way toward the sky. Why is she calling me so early?

“I’ve been meaning to call for a few days,” she continues. “I didn’t want to bother you if school was hectic. How is work at the library?”

“It’s, getting there.”

“That’s good. And how are things otherwise?”

I swallow, unsure how to respond to that. I’m dreaming about a man I’ve never met who makes me feel things I shouldn’t. I saved a child in traffic yesterday. And I think I might be going insane.

That’s a lot, Elowen. You can’t bother your mom with that.

“Fine,” I say instead.

There is a pause.

“Elowen,” she says quietly in that tone that tells me something is wrong. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About your father.”