STAIN (My Soul To Wake Book 1) (12 page)

“Tell me no man has touched you here, seen you like this,” he asks, his voice echoes between the flesh of my thighs.

“No one,” I answer truthfully, no concern to how my confession of virginity sounds.

There’s no description for the noise he makes. It’s grips me.

“Good.”

His mouth smashes into me, into the most delicate of spots. The intensity of the pleasure deserves a scream but I can’t muster the breath for it. My mouth gapes open, nothing but air escaping. He licks and suckles every inch of every fold, feeding like a starving man.

I throw one arm back, my knuckles rasping against the wooden headboard. The other hand settles into his hair, snaking the tiny strands through my fingers until there is something to grab onto.

He’s unyielding in his pursuit, chasing the thrills he sends shooting deep into my body where they collect and grow, slowly building into the largest bundle. It grows and grows until there is no room left… and then it bursts, bathing me with delirium as my body convulses.

My short breaths quicken, then stop and return to normal as my body recovers. My limbs grow limp, weighing heavily down into the bedding. Will’s breath is just enough to keep my core from settling, threatening to throw the hypersensitive nub back into spasm with its close proximity.

I manage to move my palm, cradling his chin in it. He kisses my fingers, the heel of my hand, my wrist, forearm, inner elbow and all the way up to my neck.

His lips disappear abruptly and my eyes open to search for him in the dark. I see his large back, his broad shoulders at the side of the bed. I hear the sound of a metal hinge and of wood pulling, then his rummaging in the nightstand, and some sort of ripping and crackling before Will returns to me, holding me close, arms wrapping protectively around me.

His leg weaves between mine and I hitch my leg higher. His salty lips spread over my own, the tanginess of his tongue greets mine. His extra-large hand grabs my hip and stabilizes his grip while a coolness touches the throbbing nerves that he’d just hungrily consumed.

I feel a roundness push against me.

“By all that is good…” he whispers into my ear while pushing his hips forward into mine.

I feel myself stretch, nearly rip to fit the enormity that is him. I feel a deep pinch inside, and I whimper before his kiss moves to soothe me.

“By all that is not…” he pulls himself, withdrawing the mass that has taken shape in my body. I hiss as it slides, panting deeply in his ear. My hands take hold of him, bracing myself.

“This I vow to you...” He drives himself back in, thrusting his body fully. As he completes the movement, his words strike me just as hard as his body fills me.

I repeat them in my mind.
By all that is good, by all that is not
. I know those words. I’ve heard them before. I gasp.

He’s said them before.

Last night.

In my dream.

CHAPTER TEN

His deep, sound breathing is even and regular. His warm lips rest on my shoulder, with his strong heavy arm draped over my side. I close my eyes tight, gently inching my way to the edge of the bed. The soft sheet slips over my skin as I maneuver carefully.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t ever want to leave his side. It feels natural, pairing my body next to his, but I can’t bear to risk his seeing me suffer from a dark dream. I’ve seen the tears in my parents’ eyes too many times as they’ve held me after an episode. I can only imagine the horror it must appear to be as I scream and toss about.

I was tested for sleep apnea a bunch of times because my mom told me she thought I was suffocating, as I choked for air during the episodes.

Now I’ve just had the most amazing experience of my life and I don’t want it tarnished by what my unconscious state will do. I can’t expect him to understand, it’s too much to ask.

The weight of his arm drops to the mattress with a heavy thump. I still myself, prepared for him to awaken. He stirs, groans effortlessly as he rolls over, flattening himself, stomach side down. The sheet covering him slips low, revealing the curve of his backside, the shadowed cleft between two mounds.

The hazy moonlight spills out, basking him in a soft blue light. I can see the red streaks on his skin, crisscrossing and seared into those mounds and stretching up to cover his back.

I know I’m responsible for those, just as he’s accountable for the tender bruising between my thighs.

I step forward, lifting myself from his bed, my nakedness cooling in the room’s air as the protective linens fall from me. I take a step forward. The floorboard creaks. I pause.

I take yet another step, gingerly inching my toes forward. Another creak.

The house may be restored but it’s historic, sounding its age with every step. One more step, one more creak, and he still sleeps. I exhale, thinking I’m in the clear.

Moose perks up from his catatonic state and lets out a loud bark at my escape, giving me away. I drop my head.

“Where ya going?” Will’s coarse, groggy voice asks.

I lie. “Water. Just getting a glass of water.”

With no option than to actually get the water I’ve used as a cover, I slip into the kitchen to retrieve a small bottle of spring water from the fridge. It’s cold, almost frigid against my bare skin.

I rush back to bed so I can deposit it on the nightstand and crawl back under the covers. His arm promptly reclaims me, pulling me close. Not taking any chances of a second escape attempt, Moose jumps up and settles himself across my lower legs.

I just won’t sleep. I’ll keep myself awake, and ensure the dreams are kept far away for the night. I can do it. I’ve pulled an all-nighter or two in college. I just have to concentrate and not let the warm comfort of his body lull me into a relaxed state where I’ll slip into sleep.

“Where were you really going?” he whispers in my ear.

I roll to my side, facing him in the dark. “It’ll sound horrible if I tell you. You’ll think it’s terrible.”

How does one politely tell the person they never want to hurt that they were just about to sneak out on them?

“Try me.” His fingers tickle in semi-circles against my hip.

I breathe deeply. I don’t want to lie to him, to be dishonest in any way by hiding parts of me from him, but the thought of his rejection would be too much for me to bear. I bite my lip and fight against myself and the urge to speak. I can hear the tiniest of sounds escape my lips but I seal them before any more are released.

“Tell me. Don’t keep it in, baby,” he solicits.

I close my eyes tight and blurt the words. “I was leaving.”

Silence.

“Why would you leave?” He asks, his hand now rubbing my arm.

I might as well finish this. “I-I didn’t want you to sleep next to me. To see….”

“To see what?”

His lips now feather themselves on my forehead as I nuzzle in close, using his body as some sort of protection. “To see me have the dream. I can’t have you see me like that.”

“Listen to me. You don’t ever have to hide anything from me. I want to see it all. The good, the bad-”

I interrupt him. “The
really
bad?”

He kisses my nose. “I’m only gonna hold you closer for the really bad times.”

I feel my shoulders melt, molding into him. It’s one thing to say something like that. It’s a completely different thing to actually do it. I believe him, though.

Moose begins to snore loudly.

This man holding me. This home welcoming me.

I want this.

I close my eyes and pray I don’t have the dream.

~*~

I find myself staring at the thin silver band that adorns my pale finger. The perfect circle, with no beginning and no end that fits perfectly. My hand disappears within his, dwarfed within his secure grasp.

“I shall not risk harm to thee, my beloved husband.”

I remove the beautiful token of his love, even though it was placed mere moments before. “Keepest thy ring, thy most precious of belongings near thee. I shall have deep joy by the knowledge that it shall be kept on your person, nearest your heart as I cannot be.”

The clergyman leaves us to ourselves, a small moment of wedded privacy before we must part.

“We shall not be shamed, Amelia. For in the eyes of God, you are now of thy rib.”

I press my shaking finger to his lips, quieting his words before they prove to be my undoing. “I swear to thee, husband… dear, dear husband. I shall raise my chin and gladly be named your proper wife for all to bear witness with the passing of these charges.” I replace my pressing finger with my dry lips.

I guide his hand to close around and envelope itself around the smooth metal.

The damp cell that served as chapel for our vows is cramped and small. Sounds, voices begin to grow from outside the hole of a window. Our time is short.

“I beg of thee. Leave this place. Be gone and lie in wait in our field of flowers, deep in the wood. I shall find vindication. I shall come to you there at the earliest of chance. I beseech of thee!”

He kisses my lips, the salt of my tears slipping between us.

“I shall wait for you, for your most innocent of names to come to the field, where I will then leave this city with thee, mine wife, at my side.”

The deepest of kisses lingers, honoring the sanctity of our union, promising to blossom into the marital relations we will wait to share.

He steps backward toward the narrow door, hand outstretched to mine, unwilling to break the connection… knowing that it may well be some time before we feel this touch again.

When the last of our contact is broken, each reaching through air toward the other, it becomes real to me. I know he has faith. Faith that our love will see us through these trying and dangerous times to bring us to each other on the far side of it.

For him, I play along. But once the door is sealed and bolted, leaving me to the darkness once more… I sob.

~*~

“Shh,” he wipes at my tears. “I’m here. Leah, I’m here, baby.”

I can taste the saltiness as it creeps in between my lips, spreading. The moisture now falls and streams onto his body as I shake. Moose wiggles his way up the bed and tries to nudge his snout between Will and me, alarmed by the sudden outburst that caused the three of us to jolt upright from the peacefulness that was Will’s bed mere moments ago.

“Breathe. Leah, just breathe for me.” He wipes my dampening hair from sticking to my cheeks. “Slow. Steady. Breathe with me. In… out. In… out.”

I gulp deep, training my breaths to follow his command, to fall into rhythm with his own.

“That’s it, baby. Deep, slow. Here, have some water.” He reaches past me to where my nearly full bottle rests on the nightstand behind me.

I can hear the plastic movements as he loosens the cap. I sip generously, the water stinging the scream-inflamed flesh of my throat as I force the swallows. He caresses my damp cheek as I compose myself.

Aside from the low-toned soothing sounds he makes to help calm me, he asks nothing. I gulp one last time, nearly emptying the bottle. I avert my eyes, studying the small, round cap in my hand. His lips sweep over my forehead.

“Here,” he takes the finished drink and disposes of it in the small wastebasket near his side of the bed. “Lie down.”

He guides me down, angling himself to wrap as much of himself as he can around me.

“It’s all right, now. It’s over. I’m here.”

I spread my hand over his chest, and nuzzle in, trying my best to hide myself. Moose melts back into the bed, circling in on himself and coiling into a round mound of fur.

“Do you want to tell me about it? It might help if you talk it over.”

I can hear Will trying to mask his concern and curiosity, but both leak through. “Was that the nightmare?”

I shake my head. “No.”

I feel his body tense and hear the gulping sound his throat makes.

“That
wasn’t
it?” I can hear his surprise.

I whisper. “No. I haven’t had the nightmare in a few nights. This one was different.”

“How?”

I don’t want to answer, but his silence begs an explanation. “I don’t know really. It was just a few seconds. I think being here, being with you, is messing with my head. Somehow, bits of reality… like you, are making their way into my dreams. And then the history from around here winds its way in, too. It’s too confusing to make any sense.”

“Maybe I can help you figure out what they mean. What was this one about?”

I don’t remember much of it. The details are fading quickly.

“It was some kind of dark place. Maybe underground? And you were there. I had a ring that I gave to you. For safe keeping, I think. There were sounds and I made you leave before you were found.” I breathe deeply. “That’s all I remember.”

“Do you believe in fate, Leah?” He’s serious.

I’ve never had a set opinion on the matter. It was never really relevant to me. “I don’t know.”

He turns us so we are face to face in the early morning hours, darkness shrouding us both.

“I want you to listen to what I’m about to tell you with an open mind. Promise me you’ll do that.”

Now I’m the one who’s confused. “Um… Okay.”

I can feel the air displacement whoosh around me as he pushes his hand back through his short hair.

“The dream. Did I promise you that I’d wait for you in our special place? In your favorite field?”

His words don’t make any sense. I try to decipher them, but an eerie fog settles over my thoughts. It’s true! He
did
say that in my dream. I gasp.

“You did! How did you know that?” I sit up. Was I sleep talking?

“Because I remember saying it.”

I hear him, but I can’t process the words. My eyebrows squint together in confusion. He continues to explain the unexplainable.

“I remember that night. I remember the vows we promised each other. Most of all, though… I regret not stealing you away from that place. We were naïve enough to believe our love would be enough, to ensure your safety. I’ll never forgive myself for letting them take you from me.”

I don’t get what he’s trying to do. Does he think he’s helping me to relive the dream? Some type of dream acceptance therapy?

“Leah. Amelia….”

I pull back from him. “How-how do you know my full name?”

No one except my grandmother calls me anything besides my nickname, Leah, short for my given name Amelia. Did he sneak through my handbag? See the printed name on my driver’s license?

“I knew everything about you. You were my life, my world. My wife.”

If he hadn’t managed to stun me before, he certainly managed to do it now.

“What are you talking about Will? Your wife passed away. You told me.”

He clears his throat, sensing that he’s losing me. “She did.
You
did. And it’s taken my over 300 years to find you again.”

Liza’s words replay in my mind. The trauma of losing his wife was too much for him to handle. He’s projecting onto me. I don’t want to do anything or say anything that will throw him over the edge. What the hell do I say?

“I sound crazy. I know that. But, I can prove it.” There’s an undertone of desperation to his voice. “Your birthday. It’s September 29, 1992, isn’t it?”

He
must
have seen my license. He knows my name
and
my birthday.

“Yes. That’s my birthday. How does that prove anything?”

“Do you remember what I told you about Marcelle de les Songe? How she died on the same day as her daughter? The grave that you saw with her name on it. What was the date?”

I feel my eyes roaming around the blackened room, looking for an escape.