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“I’m not under his thumb, silly.” I push him lightly. He pulls me back into him, harder. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down my spine, a memory flashes again, like an old TV glitch, taking me back to the accident that is now a persistent prism of images. Daisy had been right.
“Can you look into any accidents? I mean—would it exist here?”
He grimaces. “I will say that with a family like Lazarus’s, information is buried easily. I will try my best. There should be old files stored in the funeral home.”
Lost in our words we stopped dancing and are standing at the edge of the yard.
“Are you having more…visions?” he eases out.
“Yes…They’re not always clear though. Like this morning—I was inserted into someone else’s memory. It’s not always quite clear what’s real or not.” My mind is a mystery of its own.
“We can always check the cemetery, see if any names ring a bell.”
“That is so morbid.”
“Look around Marisa, this is all morbid.”
I have to agree with him on that. Maybe the morbid is where I find myself.
We eventually leave the churchyard and weave our way through dancers and pungent alleyways, ripe with the smell of death, finding ourselves regretfully back at Christian’s vehicle.
The tall backdrop of the forest has me double taking, my steps slowing as I walk completely in his shadow. Something crunches just beyond my reach and I fly into his side, nearly toppling us both. His arms circle around my waist, steadying me.
“What is it?” his voice is low, already scanning the small swath of trees.
“I just—” Those creatures are out there, I’m sure of it. “I think we need to get out of here.”
“Hey…look at me.” Stepping fully into view, his hands trail up my arms and rests softly on my shoulders. I crane my head, staring at him like I had countless times over the night. The moon dazzles behind him rendering a transcendent look I am finding myself never tiring of. Copper eyes, full of spark. Dark hair. Towering stature. And a reverent gaze that holds me captive.
I wonder if what I’m thinking will work; touch might be what returns the missing pieces. A brazen act in exchange for some flicker of memory.
“Kiss me,” I say to him.
He stills, just for a second and I almost retract my words.
“Are you sure?” His voice is deep, straining with desire.
If my memory is locked behind experiences, I need to start forcing doors open. It’s clear I’d been involved with someone. But who that someone is, I’m not sure. I remove the mask he’d given me and toss it toward the vehicle. It clatters noisily to the floor. Before I can rationalize my actions as impulsive, I snake my arms around his neck, threading my fingers into his dark locks.
A menacing groan rumbles in his throat. Christian Valen’s mere existence is one that writers ruin their minds trying to encapsulate, being far beyond words. I don’t blame Sara for being caught between him and Kieran. Christian, however, holds a commanding air, yet, beneath it all he is caring, kind and I have the suspicion is guiding me toward something I couldn’t figure out yet. If this little experiment of mine didn’t work, then at least I’d have kissed a devilishly handsome man.
He regards me carefully, eyes glancing from my lips to my eyes. A silent plea. Was I the one to make this first move? It was wild, even crazy, this idea. I lean just a fraction closer to feel his icy breath tickle my nose, heart pounding at his nearness. His lips part slightly, inviting me forward. Warmth prickles at the nape of my neck. I remove a hand from his neck as he cups my cheeks, and then I feel it. Light and feathery as he hovers close to my lips, then he closes the gap and it takes all of my strength not to crumble in his arms.
I hold tight. All games of drawing boundaries have washed away and dissipated into the night. Our kiss is full of hunger but in the undercurrent, there is hesitation—a careful dance of our tongues and slow breaths. His hand finds the small of my waist and pulls me even closer, his other hand reaches for the back of my head, rough fingers tangling with my hair and he holds tight as he devours. A stifled moan escapes his lips allowing a cascade of heat to travel down my legs.
He severs the moment by pulling back.
“What is it?” I murmur, disappointed at the separation.
His gaze fixes on me, searching every part of my face. What is he searching for? There’s a lingering pullback, an unspoken promise that he isn’t done with me. He opens the door to his vehicle and gestures to the safety of the soft leather seats on the passenger side. Eager to see what he has in mind, I climb in.
There is no memory that surfaces, and I’m disappointed in my mind once again failing to do its job. He closes the door behind me and strides over to the other side, sliding into the driver’s seat seemingly on edge.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, curling my hands against my lap.
He didn’t want to kiss you.
Mortification bubbles in my chest. I hadn’t even been thinking about him, I’d been thinking about me. He closes his eyes, inhaling then exhaling. I’m helpless as he leans against the headrest, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, pale as the moon.
