Page 38 of In the Light of the Moon
Even still, things had gotten even more comfortable between us. Hell, for most of our outing today, he’d held a hand on my thigh or I’d reclined with my feet propped up on his lap. The dark, slightly purple bruise on my neck was still present, and every time Orion’s eyes landed on it, I could see the blatant hunger in the flaring of his nostrils.
But, as I told him after the reading on campus, he was still in the doghouse for a while. Once I returned home and came down from the near mind-altering sex, I felt the lingerings of hurtstill in my throat. Which I told him, wanting no more secrets between us. And instead of fighting me on it or asking more questions, Orion just accepted it and vowed that he would make it up to me.
I was very close to ending his little probation early, though. Especially if it involved him whisking me away from the pepperoni-scented purgatory. Based on his last text an hour ago, though, I knew that he was powering through his last class’s papers.
“I’m going outside to take my fifteen,” I hollered toward the kitchen. It was met with sounds of acknowledgement from the guys, and I took my styrofoam cup of water out back to stand in the fresh air. It was nearly six, and if business was going to pick up, it would be soon.
I heaved a sigh of relief when the autumn air kissed my skin. The days were rapidly growing shorter, and the sun was already nearly set. I leaned against the brick, not too far from where I discovered Orion crumpled in pain all those weeks ago. He still hadn’t explained what happened, and I’d been too hesitant to ask.
The forest in front of me was a calming force, and instead of remembering how worried and confused I was that night, I just remarked on how far we’d come. What did it look like around his house? Orion tried to describe it to me, but all the photos of his cabin on his phone were reference images he’d snapped when needing to run to the hardware store for supplies.
My to-go cup squeaked, the straw shifting against the lid in a squeal of plastic-on-plastic, and I breathed deeply through my nose. There it was, that warm glow at the base of my chest.The pull, Granna called it. She said she felt that way every time she cared for her houseplants or garden outside. It’d made her decades of being a florist not just worth it, but a joy. Acontentment and energizing she never felt with other forms of magic.
Thatwashow I felt as a child when I plucked ripened wild strawberries and sat with the sweet tang while listening to the whispers of the vibrant chicken of the woods. Granna used to sit out there with me, never letting me wander too far but allowing me to explore while she basked in the dapples of sunlight or read.
A rustling of leaves, shuddering more fervently than they had before, drew my attention. My eyes searched the direction it came from, to the right and deeper into the wood than I’d been staring unseeingly.
My water slipped from my hand, bouncing, toppling, and lid bursting from the impact. Ice-cold water splashed on my boots, but I barely noticed it.
Kara was stumbling into the forest, eyes wide and looking over her shoulder as if something was chasing her.
I pushed off of the brick and began walking toward where she was retreating into the dark. “Kara?” I shouted, confused when I saw that no one else was out here. Downtown was still bustling, but the noise quickly retreated the further I went.
There was no clear path here, no beaten earth that’d regularly been tread, and I had to climb over and through thickets, pulling back branches to make my way after her. The further I went, I kept my eyes on her red hair that was pulled back in a messy bun. She was wearing a cropped tank top and shorts, and I couldn’t help worrying that she must be freezing. It was cool outside but even colder out here. Even with my jeans and boots, my bare arms were almost threatening to break out in goosebumps. And I tended to run hotter than most.
“Kara! Stop—do you need help?” Her family must’ve been losing hope by now, but at least she was safe.
If she’d just stop for a second, then I’ll be able to take her inside where we could call someone for her.But she wouldn’t slow down, and I picked up to a jog that overtook her pace.
That blooming in my chest was growing, pushing and pulsing against the heaving of my lungs, and when she stumbled over nothing but a clear patch of leaves, I yelped in surprise. I fell to my knees, immediately feeling the damp earth begin to seep into my jeans.
The acrid smell of her fear wasn’t in my nostrils but clear in my mind, and I wanted to draw her into me. She just looked so afraid, lips trembling and tears falling from her eyes, when I felt nothing but frantic concern for her.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” I’d had more than my fair share of panic attacks before, and I could see that this was what was plaguing her, clouding her rational mind until she was a shivering mess.
She wasn’t looking at me, cowering from something that wasn’t here, and I reached out to comfort her, despite how badly the action had turned out when I did the same to Orion when he’d been panicking.
Instead of her lashing out at me, though, my fingers just met with chilled air. I nearly fell on top of her, the action taking me physically and mentally off balance.
“What…” I whispered, astonished but with knowing creeping up the back of my neck. I pulled my hand back and… through her shoulder.
Kara shivered, and it was only then that I noticed the slight shimmering on the edges of her skin. Her whole body, really.
“Oh, honey,” my voice was raw, tears springing and collecting on the edges of my lids. She looked at me then, really looked at me, and her expression shifted from the frenzied panic to one of quiet despair. Kara sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. I tried again to touch her, but it was just as fruitless.
“Can you talk to me? Hear me?” I whispered.
She nodded into her knees, and when our eyes met, I saw echoes of pain and anguish in what used to be vibrant amber. “I can,” she whispered even more softly than I had. Her voice sounded no different aside from the utter lack of hope that was never there before.
“What happened, Kara? How can I help you?” I sat on the ground beside her. Our feet would’ve been touching had she been alive, and the lack of contact made me want to give her a hug that could never be. She’d never be embraced again.
“I don’t know,” she said with thick melancholy. “I can’t remember.”
“Did—” I took a deep breath “—did someone hurt you?” Because it felt insensitive to ask if she’d been murdered.
Her lips crumpled, and she rubbed at her nose. She seemed to be working through her thoughts, gaze darting on the ground beside us until finally looking up at me and nodding again.
“Okay. Are you hurting any more? Now? Or has it stopped?”
