Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (28 page)

The thin, elongated leaves dance erratically as the wind blows through to the west, making them twist madly back and forth on the long
,
pliable branches. The breeze tickles the fine hairs on my skin and makes me shiver, though the air is warm and sensuous. Hands press against my back, pushing me forward, and I grip the vines more tightly as I swing forward. Back and forth, back and forth… I kick my legs to increase the speed of my makeshift swing – two vines of the weeping willow tied to a thin stick.

             
I yelp when my progress yanks to an abrupt
halt
. For a moment, all of nature quiets in the tree, and the breeze disappears. My swing suddenly twists to the left, more and
more and more, until it can’t twist anymore. I brace myself. My swing takes off full-force to the right. I scream playfully, the pressure building within my head, the force of the rotation throwing my balance to the left. I force my head upward and see a feathery swirl of green with bright specks of blue and white sky twinkling down at me.

             
My scream turns into a burst of giggles one normally hears from an excited pixling. My swing begins to slow, readying itself to reverse directions. I jerk back and forth a few times before coming to a complete stop. It takes a moment for the vertigo to cease within my head.

             
Hands caress my shoulders and stroke the length of my back. I peek over my shoulder
,
but all I see is a fluttery blue shimmer.
Jack.
His touch is magic, and my back begins to tingle everywhere his hands travel. I hardly feel it when his hands splay against my back, giving me another push, setting my swing back into motion. I sigh and drop my head backwards, kicking to speed up my sway. The flexible branches magically twist around my arms to support me. A gorgeous mop of brown waves, and eyes as green as the willow leaves, come into focus. Just as I’m about to swing away, luscious pink lips lean in to kiss my forehead, extending the curve of my smile.

             
Humming vibrates my throat, my mind filling with song. “Until then, just swing on the willowy tree.” I sway and sway and sway, for as long as he’s willing to reward me with a kiss each time.

I’m still swaying back and forth in a heavenly trance, softly murmuring the song in my head.

             
No…wait. I’m not the one humming. The sound is deeper, masculine. My eyes flutter, curious to learn the source of the sound. To my disappointment, I’m not swaying in the weeping willow anymore. The sunlight that I thought was peeping through the leaves, sprinkling me with a kaleidoscope effect of lights, is just the flame in the lantern flickering through the wavy glass walls of its prison.

             
I’m about to moan my opinion of the cruel disillusionment, when I realize my body is still swaying back and forth. But it’s not a willow branch wrapping itself around me, its Jack’s arms, securing me protectively against his body. My cheek is flush against his chest, and my body warm and snug as if cocooned. A heavenly sigh escapes my chest, but neither I nor Jack flinch, and he continues to rock us as he sings,

             
“When tears and darkness fall

             
And you can no longer hear my call

             
Ignore the evil one’s tempting plea

             
And scurry now to the willowy tree

             
Wait there you must, until the day

             
When Mother Nature illuminates your way

             
I’m afraid it’s the only key

             
To make the evil tendrils flee

             
Until then, just swing on the willowy tree”

             
As he sings, I lift my head to watch the notes vibrate the muscles in his throat. He senses me watching, and his smile is infectious.

             
“You know that song?” I ask.
Duh, Rosalie
. Maybe whacking myself in the head wasn’t such a good idea after all – but at least I can blame my stupidity on whatever head trauma I caused.

             
“Yeah. My mother used to sing it to me as a child. It took me a while to remember the words though. You’ve been singing parts of it in your sleep for awhile now, and it was driving me nuts that I couldn’t remember the words. It was always right on the tip of my tongue. They finally came to me yesterday when you were humming it in your sleep again.”

             
Lying against his firm chest is so perfect, I can’t help but reach my arms around his body and really snuggle in tight. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his head bends to gently rest atop mine. I gasp quietly inside myself, little sparks of energy popping throughout my abdomen and chest. My heart feels like it’s trying to flip, fighting hard to break its tethers so it can join in the celebration.

             
We’d been so good to minimize contact since my moan sent him fleeing. But I don’t care anymore. If he’s not going to run from me right now, then I’m going to soak up as much physical contact as he’s willing to give.

             
I’m suddenly aware that my back is tingling with a numbing sensation. I groan, and elongate my neck to bury my eyes into his neck, too afraid to check the condition of my wings. Timidly, I whisper, “Did they hurt my wings again?”

             
I already know the answer.

             
His chest expands beyond normal lung capacity. Once it slowly releases the superfluous air, he quietly replies, “You were unconscious, so Finley didn’t stick around this time. Guess if he can’t watch you scream, he can’t get off on it.” His arms tighten, bringing our abdomens more flush. “Anyway, spriggans aren’t book smart. Most can’t even count. I did the count silently in my head and once I thought they did enough not to question, I told them to stop.” His upper hand sways back and forth, his fingers brushing the skin on my arm in soft, random patterns. “I’m sorry, Rosalie. I wish I could’ve stopped them completely.”

             
“How many?”

             
He knows exactly what I mean. “Thirty-two.”

             
I moan, and not in the pleasurable way that removed his hands in the past. If anything, his body is trying its best to cover as much of my body as possible, as if it could protect me or something. “How long was I out?”

             
“Four days.”

             
Now it’s my turn to overfill my chest.
Four days?
“Seriously, how bad is it?” Jack extends the length of our sway. After several passes, I urge, “Jack?” He continues to ignore my request, and when my head fearfully rotates toward my back, he presses my head firmly into his chest.

             
“I’m getting you out of here, Rosalie. And soon. Finley’s not getting another chance at your wings. Okay?”

             
I try to nod, but his grip is immobilizing. And like a fool pixie crushing on an unattainable faerie, I allow myself to be smothered to sleep by his protective grip.

Once again I awake like a baby cradled in Jack’s arms – and I love it. It saddens me that it took the devastation of watching my wings broken again for him to let go of everything holding him back, but I’m grateful he has. Even if friendship is all we can share, it warms my heart that there’s someone out there that
will
seriously miss me if my life’s hour glass came to drop its last grain of sand.

             
And I can’t believe I’m saying that about a faerie. Especially since his kind is responsible for wrongfully imprisoning me.

             
“What time is it?” I ask, my head swaying and my eyes heavy from grogginess.

             
“I don’t know.”

             
I give in to desire and allow my head to rest on his
warm
chest again. “You didn’t go home last night?”

             
“Nah,” he says, following it up with a yawn.

             
“Won’t your family notice you’re missing?”

             
I feel the rise in his shoulders when he shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m the child that misbehaves, remember? They probably figure I’m with Bastian or one of my other buddies. They won’t really worry unless I don’t come home again tonight.”

             
“Must be nice,” I mutter. “I doubt my Hollow so much as batted an eyelash when I went missing.”

             
“Well, whether they think you left of your own free will or not, we’re going to get you back to them.” He rolls our bodies forward, and I groan when my body takes on the vertical position. “Come on, sleepy. You’ve got a lot to do this week to get your strength up.”

             
“This week?” I ask, moving to lean on my hands as Jack removes himself as my support system.

             
“Yep. We’re not going to push the number of days we’re willing to wait before Finley shows up again. He could be a jerk and come back in a week instead of two weeks this time. I want you gone and out of here before he even entertains the thought of coming to see you again.” He offers his hand and I look dumbly at it. “Come on. Up.”

             
My arm mindlessly obeys the command, and the next thing I know, I’m on my feet, with practically an inch separating our bodies. He’s slow to release my hand, his eyes lingering on mine, and I smile at the affection.

             
“All right. Start walking. Go as long as you can without pulling a muscle or cutting your feet. You’re literally going to have to run away from here. Hopefully, they won’t catch on too quickly, and you’ll get some distance in between you and the spriggans before they start flying after you.”

             
He gives me a playful push to get me moving, and once again I groan. I’m still pretty tired and I
doubt
I’ve eaten anything in a few days. Right on cue, my stomach rumbles and vibrates my lower abdomen.

             
“I’ll fly home and get you something to eat. Keep walking,” he demands, pointing his finger at me as he lifts out of here.

I huff and make my first pass around the hole. “Slave driver.”