Year 28 - J.L. Mac Page 0,40
jars me from the freaky nightmare I was having. I gasp for air and clutch one hand to my chest and instinctively reach for Sylas with the other. Sylas is sitting down on the edge of my bed and flips the bedside lamp on. He scoops me up and pulls me close like I’m a small child.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, concern obvious in his tone. Even through my squinted eyes I can see the look of sympathy and confusion on his face. I nod but my hands are still tightly fisted in the bedding.
Please don’t ask what I was dreaming about, I mentally plead.
“Get up, Rae. The day is waiting.”
“No,” I gripe and lie back, as though I plan to go back to sleep.
“Yes,” he argues as he picks through my room, inspecting my things and basically being nosey.
“No. I told you I’m not going anywhere with you unless it’s the airport. Get out of my room.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Please. I have something I want to show you and I’m hoping you’ll want to help me out once you know more about it. It’s important to me,” he says almost sheepishly which destroys my resolve to sit this expedition out and if I’m being honest with myself, after my nightmare, the idea of being close to this very big, capable man feels like a dose of security and safety I could enjoy.
I haven’t felt taken care of or safe in a long time, I think to myself, instantly saddened by that fact.
“C’mon, Rae, Teddy woul—” he begins.
“Don’t bring my brother into this,” I say, interrupting him in a voice that’s louder than I had intended.
“Well?”
“Goddamn you,” I curse, flipping the covers off my lap eternally grateful for my choice in pajamas last night. Cotton pants with a coordinating camisole. Unfortunately for me the camisole isn’t the variety with the built-in bra. Sylas eyes darken as they roam my body like his hands used to, and much to my horror, my nipples pebble. Obviously my breasts have a mind of their own and right now they’re delighted with the attention Sylas has shown them. I can’t say the same for my pride. Sylas smirks his lopsided grin with an arched brow.
“Chilly, Rae?”
“Still artic,” I snap, as I brush past him.
“Ain’t that the damn truth,” I hear him grumble from behind me as I make my way to the bathroom down the hall. This brief excursion should prove interesting, and by interesting, I really mean terrible.
Then why are you going with him, Practicality asks in a small but no less critical voice. I ignore her.
Sylas opens the passenger side door to his pickup truck and motions his chin, telling me to climb in the monstrosity, which is asinine given the height discrepancy between the pickup and me. With my feet planted in place I scowl at him and cross my arms over my chest. “You know what they say about men with big lifted trucks on big mud tires right?”
“That they live in an area of the country that frequently floods during hurricane season?” He frowns and shakes his head. “Have you forgotten this place so much? If you were trying to insinuate something different, well, I think we both know that you know better,” he says darkly, hooking one big hand on the top of the open door. The movement causes his tee shirt on one side to lift on his hip, showing corded muscles that he never had before—the ones that form a V and trail south like indicators on an atlas. “I believe I recall,” he pauses dropping his arm back to his side and stepping into my space. “… That even as an inexperienced boy I made you tremble for me,” he whispers then bites his full bottom lip with his gaze regarding my mouth. He lifts his rough hand and drags the pad of his thumb across my mouth and for a moment I let him. For a moment my brain vaporizes and my baser needs take the wheel. Belatedly I catch up and jerk my face away. His hand remains in the air for a moment before falling away with a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes.
Choosing to ignore him, I turn on my heel and begin marching back to the house. “Come on princess,” he says condescendingly from behind me as his hand grips my elbow and I’m spun in place then lifted up and over his shoulder. One strong arm