Ember X (Death Collectors) - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,15
hair. “They probably thought I was dead.”
He swallows hard and then clears his throat. “You have to report this. It’s basically like a hit and run.”
“No, it’s not. My brakes going out are what caused the crash to begin with.” I touch the side of my throbbing head. “Although, I’m not sure how they went out and I just checked the brake pads and lines.”
Did someone cut them? Like the owner of the car who ran into me? Or the creeper with the X tattoo on his eye? But who would want to hurt me? A lot of people, come to think of it.
He aims a perplexed look at me. “You change your own brake pads?”
“My dad was a mechanic,” I explain wryly. “And he liked to teach me while he worked on cars.”
“Was a mechanic?”
“He died a few years ago.”
“Sorry, I know how hard that is. I lost my dad too.” He extends his hand to help me to my feet. “My phone’s in my car. Do you think you can walk? Or can I carry you?”
I love the idea of him carrying me, his lean arms wrapped around my body, my face pressed against his chest. But then he would have to touch me, and the last thing I want to see is how this gorgeous guy will die. “I think I’m okay walking...” I tense as he touches my hand, his fingers grazing my knuckles, then slide down the back of my hand, as he threads his fingers through mine.
Oh my God. It finally happened, after so many years of noises, there’s only silence. No one has ever touched me like this before without death suffocating me and ripping away my oxygen. But there’s no blood, no pain, no expiration date. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and my body completely and utterly filled with desire. But I have no idea what to do with it.
His eyes remain on me as he pulls me to my feet, and then his eyes do a quick sweep of my body, lingering on my shirt clinging to my chest as he slips an arm around my lower back.
“Are you good?” he asks, and I swear he knows my secret.
I nod and the rain pours down on us as we hike up the hill. My legs feel rubbery and my skin is scratched and torn up. I touch a tender spot on the hollow of my neck and then panic.
“Oh my God.” I whirl back to the lake, cupping the front of my neck. “I lost my necklace.”
He moves in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry. Was it important to you?”
“My grandma gave it to me before she died.” I watch the lake ripple from over his shoulder, picturing the necklace floating to the top. But my imagination isn’t powerful enough to return it and I force my attention to moving up the hill.
“So you never told me your name,” I say as we hike up the loose gravel.
He hand tightens on my waist, lifting my weight up as he maneuvers me over a rock in our path. “Asher… Asher Morgan.”
“Asher. I like that name… Did you just move to Hollows Grove?” I ask as we step over the hilltop and onto the highway. The rain is starting to let up, the ground mush, mud, and puddles. My clothes are soaked and cling to my body. “I’ve never seen you around before.”
“Monday will be my first day.” He steers us down the road, with his arm still around my waist, and walks a line near the guardrail. “I just moved here from New York.”
“Why on earth would you want to move here?” I glance back at the dark, empty road.
He chuckles softly. “For the beautiful scenery.”
I frown at the pine trees bordering the road. “I guess that could be a plus for some people, but I’m sure it’s not really why you moved here, is it?”
“You don’t like it here?” he inquires, evading the question with a cock of his eyebrow.
“No… I don’t mind the low population, but a lot of people do. My best friend Raven hates it here.” I stop as the past hour catches up with my traumatized mind and I nearly collapse to the ground. “Oh no.” I slip from Asher’s hold and take off down the road, stumbling like a drunken person.
He captures my arm and turns me to face him. “You can’t go running off like that—you might have a concussion