Slicing our hands, our blood dripping into the mossy earth. Thunder claps loudly around us, and even though my grip is strong, Elora slips away from me until she is gone. Gone. Gone.
Our kissing grows frenzied, her hands are pulling at my hair, teeth grazing my bare shoulder and neck.
“Open your eyes,” I say, desperate to see her.
Elora’s eyes snap to mine.
“Please tell me I’m not the only one having these–”
“Visions? Dreams?” she says, still a bit breathless from our kiss.
“Yes.”
“I’ve been having them too,” she says. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair wild and untamed around her face. “In Valebridge, I had dreams of you that were so vivid, so real I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me.” She smiles, brushing a piece of hair from my forehead. “Which isn’t unusual, so I didn’t think anything of them.”
I roll off of her, giving her space to move onto her side to face me. “Tell me more about them.”
“It always starts the same?—”
“With a storm,” we say at the same time.
“Yes,” I say again, relief unclenching my shoulders. “You and me in the forest. The storm.”
“Don’t forget the bird,” Elora says through a smile.
“A goldfinch.”
“It’s almost as if we’re being shown pieces of our future. Moments not yet lived. Maybe it’s the fates giving us something to look forward to.” She curls into my chest, her body warm against mine.
My heart sinks when I realize our dreams must not share the same outcomes. I don’t tell her more details. How my dreams always end with us separating in one way or another. How she screams for me and I’m unable to reach her.
“It still feels foreign to say,” she says against my chest, “but I love you.”
I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me. “I love you, too.”
Her lips are soft against mine, that little noise she makes heats up my entire body. I’ve hardly had time to think of the fates and how they’ve entangled mine and Elora’s lives together. After the memory I had in the Wicked Wood, our connection has only grown stronger. Deeper.
Elora sits up, propping herself on an elbow. “I need to say something.”
“Okay.”
She takes a large breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “When my mother died, I thought the only way to stay protected was to build a wall around myself. Strong enough to keep any and everything out. I thought I was content with that. Thought it was exactly what I deserved.”
“Elora…” I take her hand, but she shakes her head.
“Let me say this.” She tightens her fingers around mine. “I need to. I have learned, albeit the hard way, that there’s no point in keeping yourself so guarded. Even if life hurts, there’s so much to be celebrated. And all of these middle moments, small or large, I don’t want to take any of them for granted.”
“Am I part of your middle?” I smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“No,” she says. “You are the beginning, middle, and if I had my way, the very end. I know it hasn’t been long?—”
“You don’t have to do that.” I kiss her knuckles. “What we feel for each other doesn’t have to be based on a construct such as time. You and I love each other, and we don’t have to prove it to anyone.”
She lays back down, her head on my chest. Her fingers dance along my stomach, each line they make is followed by a familiar electric charge.
“I hate what happened to you,” I say. “I hate that it was someone I trusted that hurt you.”
Her fingers pause, her head tilting again so she can see my face.
