Read Against The Darkness (Cimmerian Moon) Online
Authors: A.M. Griffin
Against The Darkness (Cimmerian Moon) (30 page)
“Maybe…maybe
we’ll see each other again.”
I want to
laugh out loud. See each other again? The odds of him making it to D.C. are not
in his favor. And making a return trip would be like laughing in fate’s face.
No. We won’t ever see each other again.
“Sure, right,”
I say making sure to keep my voice steady. I don’t say anything else, afraid
that it will crack, showing the pain I’m feeling.
He leans in to
kiss the side of my face, but I pull away with a growl. “I am not your sister.
Stop trying to treat me like I am.”
He clears his
throat and steps back, as if I hurt his feelings. Well, he’s done more to mine.
“I have to make sure my family is okay. That’s something that I thought you of
all people would understand.”
“Go, Jason.”
My heart can’t
even beat right. Each beat is more painful than the last. I can’t breathe, it
hurts too much. What I really want to do is leave the room—leave Jason
and Jasmine.
My wall is
slowly crumbling.
“Let’s go,”
Jasmine says.
I hang my head
and watch my feet. I don’t want to see him leave. If I did, I know I wouldn’t
be able to stop myself from crying or doing something else stupid, like
throwing myself at his feet, begging him to stay or begging him to take me with
him.
Begging doesn’t
work. I should know. I’ve seen my mom crying on the phone with my dad, begging
him to see her. I’ve seen her drape herself over him, trying to get him to stay
at our house a while longer. In the end, none of those antics had worked. He
still left and all she had to show for it was broken heart.
I close my
eyes as I listen to his footsteps pass me and continue out the door. Closing
them can’t stop the tears from overflowing my eyes and burst through my lids.
I sniffle.
It hurts so
badly.
Everything
hurts.
A small cry
escapes my lips.
How can mom
live with this pain every day?
I rub my hand
over my heart, trying to help lessen the pain I think will never go away. If
this is love then I don’t want anything to do with it.
I want to
die.
I want to
curl up and wither away.
My head is so woozy
that I want to throw up. My body feels out of whack, out of sync, off kilter.
I’ve let
him go and I won’t ever see him again.
Guilt works
its way into my head.
I should
have said something other than goodbye.
I should
have told him that I understood.
I should
have…told him I loved him.
Then
self-pity.
I should
just stay here and melt into a pile of tears.
How can I
ever face anyone again?
Jason left
me. I wasn’t enough for him to stay.
I wrap my arms
around myself. I feel so alone.
Then
depression set in.
I’ll always
be alone. The pain will never stop.
My heart is
shredding into a million pieces. My stomach is a lump of clay. My hands and
legs shake so bad I don’t think I can stand anymore or even move from this
spot.
I shouldn’t
have let him leave like that.
He thinks I
hate him.
What if he
doesn’t make it? What if he dies?
What was I
thinking?
I hiccup on
the thought.
Booted
footsteps come rushing down the hall. Someone’s coming and here I am dying of
heartbreak. I wipe the tears from my face. No one can see me like this. But no
matter how much I wipe, they keep falling.
The steps come
into the room and pause.
Wade
.
I know he
probably just found out Jason left and he’s coming to check on me. This is the
last thing that I want him to see. I don’t need him feeling sorry for poor
stupid Sinta or to tell me, “I told you so”.
“Go away,” I
croak out.
“I couldn’t
leave without doing this.”
Jason
.
He pulls my
hands away and lifts my head.
I look up to
find that he looks just as distraught as I feel. “You left…”
He cradles my
chin in his hand. His thumb caresses my cheekbone in slow strokes. His other
arm snakes around my waist and pulls me closer to him, pressing me against his
hard muscles.
I can’t help
but stare into his eyes as he descends to me. My breath stops as his lips touch
mine. His kiss isn’t soft like Wade’s had been. No, his kiss feels like
something else entirely.
His lips crush
over mine. They’re filled with such need and want. His tongue invades my mouth
in a hungry frenzy. Teasing and probing, exploring and conquering. Our tongues
dance and entangle, tasting each other. My chest burns and aches from the
breaths that I strain to take. My mind clouds in haze, refusing to allow me to
think.
His hand trails
up my face to slide along my scalp, gripping my hair. My hands move to his
sides, feeling the hard muscle underneath. The shirt does nothing to act as a
barrier. I feel each hitch of his breath and each muscle that he clenches. A
deep moan reverberates from his chest as I roam my hands across his body.
He steps
closer and leans his body against mine, pressing against me, pinning me to the
wall. My body is alive with fire…want…need. Small moans escape the back of my
throat.
I want him. I
want him so bad.
I don’t know
which one of us pulls away first, nor do I care.
He plants his
hands on the wall on either side of my head, trapping me in place. I feel his
lips against my skin, laying butterfly kisses against my neck and over my
shoulder, sending a quiver up my spine. I slip my fingers through his hair,
running my fingernails across his scalp, bringing him closer to me. His
breathing becomes heavier. I can’t help but to hiss in a breath and arch my
back and let my head loll to the side. What he’s doing feels so good. O
ne
after the other, he places kisses across my collarbone.
“Jason,” I
whisper, gripping his hair, holding him to me.
He sucks in a
deep breath and stops, resting his forehead against my chest. He balls his
hands into fists, scraping his nails against the wall as he does.
“I love you,
Sinta Allen. I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
I keep my eyes
closed. I don’t want to see him leave me. “I’ll be here.”
He uses the
wall to push away. Immediately I feel the void of the broken contact. I feel so
lonely and empty.
I wrap my arms
around myself to ease the overwhelming feeling of loss. It doesn’t help. I don’t
think anything will stop the way that I’m feeling right now.
As I listen to
his steps walking away, I find myself sliding against the wall, falling to the
floor, where I curl into a ball.
He’s gone.
But he’ll
be back for me.
February 11, 2013
There it
is.
A spot of
brown against a backdrop of white. If the trees had been covered with leaves or
the bushes in full bloom, I would have never spotted it. The snow falls in
large white puffs, covering everything in sight, including any footsteps. Which
is the only reason we feel safe to come up today.
I take
delicate steps around the tree, positioning myself for a kill shot while
partially obscuring my body. I lift my crossbow with the same deliberate
movement that I had made to move into this position. To steady my shot, I rest
my shoulder against the tree.
My stomach
almost grumbles at the thought of eating venison. We’ve had small game, rabbits
and squirrels for the past three weeks. Deer have become somewhat of a luxury.
Since there’s snow on the ground, hunting anything this big far from home is a
no-no. How effectively could we cover blood streaks in the snow that would lead
straight to our door? And carrying a deer is out of the question. So catching
one that crosses though our backyard is the only thing we’ve been able to do.
I hadn’t even
been expecting to see one. Winston and I had our eye on two playful rabbits…
Wait. Where
is he? If he scares off my score I’ll throttle him.
With renewed
urgency, I peer through my scope.
Got you.
The winter
wind whips again. A cold gust of air makes me lose my breath.
Shit.
As the wind
dies down, I take in a small, shallow breath and refocus on my target. Good
thing I’m standing down wind or my target would have taken off by now.
It stops about
twenty feet from me and looks around. Its eyes dart past me in my camouflage
coat and pants. With my winter boots covered in snow and my hair pulled back
and covered with my brown wool cap, the only thing the deer might have noticed
was the black weapon aimed at her. But when she drops her head to nuzzle into the
snow, looking for anything edible underneath, I almost breathe a sigh of
relief. But not wanting to give myself away I make sure not to make a sound.
I take aim
between her shoulder blades, the way Rocky taught me. My shot will pierce the
lungs and heart. I need a quick kill. I can’t have her running through the
woods with an arrow sticking out of her. If that happened I might as well get
on a bull horn and scream, “We’re over here! Come and get us!”
I don’t need
that, so I double check my shot and slip my finger through the trigger.
Steady.
The deer’s
head pops up.
Crap.
Gritting my
teeth, I realize my shot is lost. She looks from right to left. Something has
her startled.
Winston.
With renewed
urgency I take aim for the head, focusing on one of her eyes. It’s not the best
shot, but I can’t miss my opportunity.
Stomp,
stomp, slide.
I freeze,
listening.
Stomp,
stomp, slide.
I would know
that sound anywhere. It’s the sound that wakes me up in a cold sweat at night.
It’s the sound that can send me into a panic. It’s the sound that I remember
when I think of my dead friend, Shayla.
Winston isn’t
spooking the doe.
It’s a damn
lizard.
:
A. M. Griffin
is a wife who rarely cooks, mother of three, dog owner (and sometimes dog
owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She’s a hard worker whose two
favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys reading everything from
mystery novels to historical romances and of course fantasy romance. She is a
believer in the unbelievable, open to all possibilities from mermaids in our
oceans and seas, angels in the skies and intelligent life forms in distant
galaxies.
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