Sleep paralysis?Yes.
Still, the fear that had clung to me held tighter, suffocating, sending me straight up in bed.
A moon rested high in the sky, so bulbous that the entire interior of the cabin was illuminated by its silvery light. Enough that when I put feet to the wooden floor, I looked as pale as a bloodless ghost.
Lifting a hand, I looked at my skin, which seemed coated in mercury, my bones carved out of the contrast between light and dark. My wedding band danced with the light, diamonds twinkling like stars.
Trembling. That was why I’d lifted my hand in the first place.
The fear ate at me—since I could move, though, my body yearned to flee.
The dream. It still chased me.
Not giving it a second thought, I flew up and out, straight into the woods behind the cabins my father owned out in the country.
Spring had come in strong, that tremulous time between cool and hot, one attempting to succeed over the other. The air held a cool quality, but not enough to make me shiver. Though I was.
The weather was the least of it.
Something warm percolated in the air, taking the scents of the wood—pine and moist earth—and perfuming it. Humidity clung to my skin like dew. As my bare feet flew through the numerous floras of the woods’ floor, mostly pine and damp leaves, I could feel moisture saturating my skin. Small leaves and flecks of branches stuck like leeches.
I felt as though helium had replaced blood, and I floated in a quick rush instead of my legs and feet pushing me forward. My heart hammered even heavier in my chest, making me breathless, a burn deep in my lungs, yet I kept on. The white of my thin nightgown was stark against the night, the places the moon hadn’t touched, such as spaces in between trees.
Footfalls fell behind me, but they came in the form of twigs breaking.
Instinct told me the chase was on.
Fear can induce plenty of reactions—cowering, for one. But cowering was never my style. Instead, I pushed harder, taking flight as though the beast was close on my heels. He moved almost silently, his aura sending a dangerous warning through the night. A flash of lightning before the electrical storm.
Rushing into the safety of the cabin my paternal grandfather had built for my grandmother, I took shelter against one of the walls, overgrown with moss and ivy. Nature’s own wallpaper.
The cabin had always been a special place for the two of them. After she passed away, he had it immortalized in her honor. A bed of roses stood in the center, their crimson blossoms like spots of blood against a black and silver canvas. I inhaled, and the honeyed scent infiltrated my lungs, the taste of it lingering on my tongue.
Reaching out, I felt for something solid to hold on to. To reach the wall, though, my hand had to go through a layer or two of ivy and moss, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to reach beyond what I couldn’t see. Another wall would have been safer, someplace with less nature and a sturdier foundation. I’d chosen the darkest part of the cabin, away from the silver light spilling inside.
A place he’d instinctually look for me—the brightest spot in the inky blackness.
His shadow stretched, spilling over the doorway, black against silver, panting, chest heaving, arms spread from one side of the door to the other. His eyes were cast down, raven hair wild, muscular chest bare, so perfect that it seemed carved. Some of his veins were swollen and reminded me of roots, a journey, to the heart I claimed as mine. Just a pair of sweatpants covered him. Long, bare feet were stained with the same damp debris as mine.
He sniffed, almost as if he were scenting the air—his nostrils flared when he caught me, and his face turned to meet mine. The light made his eyes almost glow. Such a contrast between the light and darkness of him.
Before I could speak, cry for help, he caught me before my knees gave out. His arms came under my behind, lifting me up. My legs were strong enough to wrap around his waist, though my thighs quivered, and my arms came around his neck, hands still trembling.
Our hearts pounded, beating against one another. His breath rushed into my parted mouth; I swallowed it down like oxygen.
His skin felt smooth and hot beneath my cool palms, coated in a sheen of muggy air; his own sweat came in glistening droplets, almost alien in the light. Slow moving mercury emerging from bronze.
As he brought me further into the brightness spilling in from the open ceiling, I truly saw his eyes. Wild. Dilated from the rush of the hunt. I’d worried him with my flight and fright.
“D-don’t let m-me g-go,” I managed to get out. My voice reflected the tremble of my body.
His eyes studied mine.“Mai,” he breathed.
Never.
“S-say it a-again.”
Slipping one arm from beneath me, he took my face in his hand, his touch almost rough—but so damn secure. “Mai.”
