By the time this thought registers, and I mean really, turely, full heartly registers. The fog grew so thick I could harder see my hand in front of me, let alone Jayden. But it was the trees around us that gave me the first clue something is, seriously wrong. They almost look like they came straight out of an old 80's scary movie. Something I am all to familiar with due to a foster home and an obsessed older foster kid.
Images rustle together, as the realization that in the memory of my mother, I was the same age I am now. It couldn't possibly be true and if it wasn't ture, the only possible explanation for it is to get me out of the cacoon. That incredible feeling, the delight that Jayden was here, fades into the distance as quickly as it came on. Trying not to care, or think too much about the "issues" of my memories, I take a step forward cautiously and careful.
Jayden’s blank look on his face sends a chill down my spine and I wonder if this is a trap for the both of us, or just me?
“Jayden?” I hesitate, trying not to say anything at all.
He blinks in front of me, and I mean literally a blink. One second he's ten feet away from me and the next he's ten inches from my face making me stumble backwards. He grabs my arms so quickly that he jolts me even closer. His hands are like steel bars holding me tighter and tighter. - Too tight. His stone cold Black eyes fill the space between us with lust and desperation, as he glides his eyes over my body slowly. Leaving me with the distinct feeling that this is all for me, this was my trap and not my Jayden.
“Raynee” His voice is a smokey aftershave left in the distance. "Raynee" echos chime in through the fog.
This is wrong. I think. Jayden is wrong, my memory is wrong, this whole damn thing of me being here..... is wrong. His grip tightens around my arms and I twist in protest trying to get loses.
“Stop! You’re hurting me.” I scream at him, hating the fear that drips off my tongue. I wanted to sound strong, but of course I am anything but strong.
Jayden’s mouth turns into a devilish smirk as if he wants to hurt me and he likes doing it. Squirming the inch I can, I kick, push, pull, scratch, even scream again. But nothing I do makes him move. He's dead inside and has his dead cold hands are glued to my arms.
He pulls me closer planting his lips on mine. This kiss is so much different than the one he gave me the hallway. For one thing, there's a foul taste in the back of my throat my stomach lurches threatening to heave. Wrong. My mind screams. I struggle even harder as I dig my fingernails into his neck. Warm blood socks my fingers but I don't stop. His hands release my arms and in an instant he slide his arms around me. One hand pulling my back closer to his body, the other gripped my hair to keep my head straight. He was too fast, too strong, too.... he's definitely not real.
I hit his shoulders over and over as my arms burn with fire. A fire that doesn't just burn from the inside out, but sparks, spits and darts pain with every hit I land. The longer he holds me to his lips the weaker I get. My arms slowly fall to my sides and I stand there only able to dart my eyes to see anything but him. The trees to the left of us, shake and if I didn't know any better, I'd say there was a new full grown oak tree to the right.
His lips push fearlessly on mine, slicing an opening of my lips. Smoke slithers from his mouth to mine, illuminating my lungs, stomach, back, all the way down to my toes. Fire, burst of fire.
No screams come out, no gasp of agany. I just bathe in the pain, waiting for it to finely kill me. Zilor is smart, devoted, cunning. He knew I would only come out for Jayden. Only come out for my nightingale.
No comments:
Post a Comment