Chapter Twenty-Five
Cade
I think I was in a nightmare, listening to Sky’s screams. She was terrified, but I don’t know of what. It had to be a nightmare. But the next thing I know, I’m freezing, pumping through the woods, trying to find her.
Did I hallucinate? Have I finally cracked? Or is she really out here? She can’t be. I want to smack myself to get a grip, but I can’t go back to sleep if there’s a chance it’s really her. Her screams were horrific, desperate, and I don’t trust my addled mind to tell the difference between real and imagined.
My breath comes in shallow gulps, my heart ricocheting around my chest as I stomp through the night. I know I look crazed, that I’m being manic, but I can’t quell the idea that something awful has happened to Sky—delicate, defenseless, Sky.
I run faster, my gaze whipping around the forest, scanning for bronze hair. I’m not going fast enough, my limbs heavy with sleep because of the fucking sleeping pill. My mind is fuzzy with that static of getting up before the substance has run its course, and I might as well be drugged.
I hate taking pills, but some nights I just can’t sleep. The sockets behind my eyes will ache for rest, and I know that if I don’t take it, sleepless nights will turn into sleepless weeks until I’m a zombie, shuffling around, ready to bite at any minor inconvenience. It’s the only one I allow myself to have from the lineup of medications I’m supposed to be taking from my days at Briarcreek. The rest get flushed down the toilet. But now, I wish I had flushed the sleeping pills too. I’m so out of it from the tiny white oval, so frantic with worry, that I’m not paying attention to where I am. I duck and dodge and leap, but I’m just running aimlessly, hoping like fuck that it was just a nightmare. I’m so detached, imagining the horrors that could have elicited such screams, that I forget about the rushing stream.
Like a fuckin idiot, I fall face first. The icy sting of water jolts me, soaking my clothes and sending a shock through me. It banishes the static in my brain, slapping me awake.
For fuck’s sake.
I’m completely drenched, my hair plastering itself over my eyes. I slowly bring myself to my knees, and with a groan, run my hands down my face to get the muck off. Bits of forest debris and mud run down my neck, and I lift my shirt to slough it off.
What the fuck am I even doing? I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, falling back onto my ass in the water. I’m running through the woods at night chasing phantom screams. Is this the result of depriving myself of her?
Jesus Christ.
I brace my elbows over my knees and spit the taste of dirty water from my mouth. I deserve to sit here all night for being a fool. Maybe it will knock some sense into me. I need to stop watching her. It’s driving me crazy. Now, I’m dreaming she’s screaming? I don’t want to know what that means.
I clench my jaw, letting the sounds of the stream calm me. It was just a dream. A fucked up dream from the pills. I’ve had them before, coupled with sleep paralysis, and I should know better. But jesus, if even the chance that Sky might be in danger didn’t rip me from my bed. I don’t even remember putting on my shoes, the echo of her terror the only thing I could feel. I scrub at my face again, trying to rid it from my memory.
A whimpering breaks the soothing current, and I whip my vision to the right. What the fuck was that? I wipe the last remnants of water from my lashes and blink into the woods. Am I still dreaming? I carefully push myself up, watching the darkness for movement. I stand still, annoyed at the sound of my dripping clothes, and listen.
The familiar acoustics of night and wilderness are present, a serene rustling of leaves, wind over mountain tops, but there, there it is again. A tiny whimper that isn’t part of the song.
I wonder if I’m really losing it as I pick myself out of the water, slowly making my way closer to the sound. I flinch with every snapped twig under my boots. I’m no longer hunting, but stalking, and I don’t fling the foliage out of my way, instead gently sifting through as if I’m one with it. The closer I get, the more a pit forms in my stomach, because I don’t think the screams were the product of a nightmare. Soft and desperate sobs are right before me, just out of sight, and I try to prepare myself for what I’m about to come up on, steeling myself for anything.
But when I push the bushel of spanish moss away, my chest excavates itself.
“Sky!” her name rips from the throat.
I knew I heard her, her call the only thing that could pull me out of a drug induced coma. Her hair is drenched, filled with leaves and twigs, but I would know that bronze shade anywhere. She’s shivering, her lips practically blue as she whips her head up. Her red rimmed eyes are filled with fear before they go wide.
“Cade?” Her voice is hoarse, and it breaks as she sucks in a breath.
“What the fuck?” I fall to my knees beside her. “What happened?”
I look for wounds, anything major that could kill her, but all I find are thousands of tiny cuts and scrapes. Somehow it feels worse, knowing there’s no one spot I can tend to. Despair curdles my muscles.
“He… I was… There was…” She starts to hyperventilate.
He? Red leaks into my vision.
Sky gasps and chokes, her body trembling, and I try to focus. I grab her face, pushing the wet hair away and thumbing the tears that cascade down her cheeks. Her skin is ice cold, and I pull her into me, even though I know I’m not much warmer.
“You’re okay. I got you,” I say, crushing her against me as if I can absorb her fright. “I got you. Everything’s going to be okay.”
The words out of my mouth feel foreign, like the words of someone with a soul, but I mean them. I mean them with every hollowed out piece of me I have. I got her, and I’m not letting go.
“He’s still out here,” she whispers into my ear, and the red prickles back into my vision.
“Who? What did he look like?” I demand, holding her head against my shoulder as I scan the night. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him and ruin my plans. I don’t care. “Tell me what he looked like,” I repeat.
“He… He was just a skull.”
* * *
I carry Sky back to my shack, anger kicking up a notch with every shiver that wracks her body against mine. The walk only takes a few minutes, and I grit my teeth with the audacity this fuck has. Hunt my girl? In my woods? The urge to lock Sky into the shed and go looking for him is barely contained. No one will ruin Sky’s last year alive and get away with it.
I kick the door open with my boot and quickly one-hand a tarp over my desk. The crate is safely tucked away, but if Sky is smart, she’ll know exactly what the stuff on my workbench is for. Luckily, that’s all I have to hide right now. I just burned the packaging from my recent shipment, and as long as Sky keeps her hands to herself, this should be okay.
At least, that’s what I convince myself, because I’m not leaving her in the woods, and the idea of letting her out of my sight queues a rush of anxiety that threatens to unravel me.
I set her down on my mattress and wrap the blanket around her shoulders. As I kneel at her feet, I realize she’s a fucking mess—still gorgeous—but a mess. She’s covered in dirt, clear streaks going down her face where the tears ran, and her hair, jesus, it looks like a bird made a nest of it. I must be eyeing it oddly because she sniffles and pats at it.
I growl and push her hand away. I don’t want her to feel self conscious. She was just attacked, for fuck’s sake.
“Whe-re ar-e weee?” she chatters.
“Nowhere,” I deflect and push the blanket off her shoulders.
I’m an idiot. I should have taken off her wet jacket first. I fumble with the zipper, but then remember how to jimmy it. It is my jacket, after all. I’ve been watching her for weeks, and I never see her in anything but it. It makes my dick throb whenever she pulls the hood over her little head, and I have to resist dumping the rest of my collection at her door. But why she keeps wearing it, I haven’t a fucking clue.
When I slip her arms from the damp weight, my mouth goes dry. She’s wearing the tiniest scrap of a sports bra, and it’s barely holding her in. Her nipples are hard peaks through the flimsy fabric, and I quickly put the blanket back over her shoulders. I don’t need my dick popping up right now.
“H-e had kni-ves,” she says, her voice small and scared.
It takes everything in me, but I shove down my anger and find her hands.
“You’re with me now, and you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” I’m trying to use a gentle tone, but it comes out more firmly than I want.
“But kn-ives.”
“I have knives too.” I pull a switchblade from my pocket. “See?”
She doesn’t look convinced, and I have to wonder what kind of knife the guy had. They can’t be any scarier than the ones I have, though.
With a sigh, I toss the puny switchblade aside and lean over. I open the old set of drawers that came with the shack and scramble around blindly, like I’m digging for the perfect handful of chips. I pull out three sheathed daggers and one more switchblade.
Her eyes widen, and I can’t help but smirk. Yeah, I have knives too, and I dare the fucker to try me.
“Here, take one.” I push the one with a snake carved into the hilt into her hand. “It’ll make you feel better.” I know having a knife always makes me feel better.
I drop the others into the drawer and slam it shut. When I look back to Sky, she’s furrowing her brows as she tries to examine the design on the hilt, but she’s shaking too much.
I push off the floor and rummage around for the space heater. I never use it, so it must still have a charge. When I find it, I drag it right up next to her and set it at max. Within seconds, warmth starts to flow, and I sigh in relief.
The thing is… I can’t treat hypothermia, and I can’t have her going to the infirmary. If she tells anyone that a skull with knives chased her through the woods, there would be police and dogs and mayhem. This shed has my DNA and fingerprints all over it. No doubt a canine will easily sniff it out, and then everything I’ve worked toward goes out the window.
I let Sky warm her hands while I light the lantern and the few candles I have lying around. When I’m finished, the place has turned surprisingly warm—given the hole in the ceiling—and there’s a warm glow flickering around us. It’s not much, but it’s better.
I kneel back at her feet with a cloth in hand, and grimace. It’s going to take more than a dry cloth to get the dirt off her face. Without a second thought, I spit to moisten it, and reach for her face.
She flinches away, but I narrow my eyes at her, daring her to stop me. I can’t look at her like this any longer, it’s breaking my black heart.
After a second, she sighs, and I bring the cloth to her cheek. I make soft swipes across her skin, aware of her watching me. I try to tamp down the fervor it brings me to cover her in my saliva, and mask my pleasure with a scowl. If she only knew, I would lick every inch of her body if given the chance. I wouldn’t care if she was covered in mud, or even blood. I would lick her clean and then some.
“How did you end up in the woods?” I ask, distracting myself from the urge to lean in and run my tongue along her jaw.
Her pouty lips open and then close, her cheeks turning pink underneath my touch.
“What?” I smirk, something about her wriggling inside making my skin heat.
“I was hoping to bump into you,” she finally says, looking away.
My hand falters for a second, and it takes real effort to continue wiping her cheek. What would she want with me? Does she know I’ve been following her? I’ve been so careful, making sure I stick to the shadows, and even avoiding her so called ‘friends’ as to not alert her.
“Well, here I am,” I say coolly, despite my nerves.
I move the cloth down to her neck, giving special attention to her pulse, and trying to decipher if her heart is beating as erratically as mine. I find it’s a wild pump against her delicate skin, like a hummingbird trying to break free, and I take comfort in knowing I’m not the only one that has something throbbing.
“Why did you switch social studies?” she asks.
Her question catches me off guard. That was weeks ago. The headmistress wasn’t happy to change my schedule, but she relented for a trade. A trade, I realize, I still haven’t held up my side of. Fuck.
“Change of scenery,” I say, knowing full well that Sky was the only scenery in that class, and the view of her has only gotten bigger with the loss of that seat.
She nods, and I switch from the cloth to a comb I keep in my drawer of knives. My fingers tingle with the chance to touch her golden hair, and I barely give her the option to say no.
“You mind?” I ask, sitting down beside her.
She doesn’t say anything, and I gather her hair behind her shoulders. I bite my lip to stop the groan that wants to escape me. Her hair feels like silk, heavier than I thought too. I pluck a couple of leaves free and fight the urge to wrap her length around my fist. Jesus, it still smells good too, like sunshine and tart berries.
My dick firms, and I pierce my lip with my teeth, drawing blood. The coppery tang coats my tongue but does nothing to calm down the need. I’m a live wire as I run the comb through her tresses, ready to electrocute her.
“Cade?” My name is a whisper from her lips, so sweet and timid.
It takes me a second to find my voice. “Hm?” I choke out.
I’m barely holding it together. The weeks of staying away from her have left me wild, like an animal willing to kill for just a morsel, and here she is in my den, on a silver platter.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
Her words stun me, an arrow to my gut. They’re bold, but laced with insecurity, and something inside me cracks. The last thing I’ve been doing is avoiding her. I’ve been with her every day, behind every corner, watching her every move. I couldn’t avoid her if she lived on the moon. I’d asphyxiate myself just to get to her.
But she doesn’t know that, and I don’t have an answer for her. To say I haven’t would be a lie, and to give her a reason would be mutiny.
“I guess it was just a kiss then.” She fills the silence.
Just a kiss?!
I’m unable to stop the growl that rumbles in my chest. What we did was not a kiss . It was damnation. My flesh was stripped from my body and my soul was revealed. I was put on display to the heavens, burned with light, and pierced with divinity. That night was my judgment day, and I was found not worthy.
A kiss. I want to scoff.
I wrap her hair around my knuckles, remembering the taste of her lips, and tug her head back. A soft breath escapes her, but she doesn’t move. Her delicate neck is arched in a way that shows me her fluttering pulse, and I feel her eyes roaming over me as I take her in.
That kiss ripped at the seams of a three-year plan, poked holes in my determination. It showed me the monster I’ve become, and it scorched me as punishment.
Sky is torture with a tongue, but I’m just sadist enough to want more.
I press my lips to hers.