“On bikes, you mean?” I said, laying my legs flat on the blanket.
“Yes, Amelia,” he drawled. “On bikes.”
“I’ve never been on one.”
“I’d offer to take you today, but by the color of your skin, it’s safe to assume you’re not feeling well.”
“I think I had one too many glasses of alcohol last night.”
He raised his eyebrows. “One? More like several.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
He leaned back on his forearms. We sat in silence for a long moment, and I was acutely aware of how close he was. He oozed power; it was as if I could feel his energy, a vibration against my skin and deeper, down to my core, like an electromagnetic field pulling me in. Urging me closer.
His fingers were splayed on the grass. The same fingers that had held my face tenderly. I remembered the warm feeling of them against the sides of my cheeks. Delusional disorder might explain visions, but not the feel of his chest on my body, or his arms around my back, or the kiss on my forehead. Whatever he was, it was nothing sinister; he wasn’t a monster. I was certain of it. Monsters didn’t save girls from fires. I should ask. All I had to say was, “How did you run so fast, and what are you?” Simple enough.
I clasped my hands together in my lap and drew a deep breath to ask, but before I could get a word out, he said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I paused, nerves rattling in my stomach. “I just can’t work out how I got out of the fire. The last thing I remember was crawling on the gravel. How was it possible for me to run a few miles to get past the blaze that had already rendered me unconscious and make it to the road on my own?”
There was a flicker in his eyes. A dark cloak. A shadow. My stomach knotted as he studied me for a long moment. “Have you heard of cerebral hypoxia?”
It was a better assumption than delusional disorder, but not by much. “Yes, it’s when you have a lack of oxygen to your brain.”
“Correct, memories can be distorted or completely lost.”
So, what was he saying? It was all some kind of hallucination? Like my nightmares.
“Maybe, but the fire was too wild and large for me to outrun it, and I lost consciousness on the gravel road by the lake.”
“You ran yourself out beside the lake’s edge. The fire started right behind your cabin, and it didn’t have time to spread too wide. That’s how you managed to get around it.”
“Strange. I can remember your face, though,” I said with a clip of annoyance. “And moving at speeds not possible.”
His eyes flared then narrowed. He regarded me intently, and there was a sharpness to his gaze that was distinctly unpleasant. “Like I said, hypoxia can play all kinds of tricks on your mind, and I came to visit you in the hospital. I sat by your bed and I spoke to you—perhaps that’s where you remember my face from?”
Air rushing past my ears, the roar of the fire . . .“No.” I shook my head. “I remember more than that.”
His lips twisted up, but you couldn’t call it a smile. “What do you think happened? Do tell.”
Oh, the condescending arrogance, so self-assured. So adamant. Like he thought I was crazy. I opened my mouth to object and closed it again. Maybe I was crazy. Christ, maybe I did imagine it? I bit my lip. Hypoxia? Maybe. It was possible. It felt so real, but then my dreams were always so vivid they always felt real. My brain began to pound viciously, making it hard to think, and a fresh spurt of nausea made its way through me. I rubbed my temples with my fingers.
“You must be right,” I murmured, hanging my head and feeling like a complete fool.
He rose in one lithe motion as if he couldn’t get away fast enough. “I hope you’re feeling better soon.”
He turned and strode to his bike, then took off faster than he’d arrived, wearing no helmet. I watched him disappear down the drive and listened until the sound of his bike faded.
“Memories can be distorted or completely lost.”His words settled over my shoulders like a dark fog.
Chapter 33
Shadow Man
Something woke me. The room was ice cold. I shivered and dragged my eyes open. It was pitch dark.
I was not alone.
