The Evolution of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer #2)(38)

Noah was quiet.

“I’m scared to kiss you.” I’m scared I’ll hurt you.

Noah gently smoothed my hair from my face. “Then you don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” It had never been more true.

His eyes were soft. “Do you want to tell me what you’re afraid of?”

My voice was clear. “That I’ll hurt you. Kill you.”

“If you kiss me.”

“Yes.”

“Because of that dream.”

I closed my eyes. “It wasn’t a dream,” I said.

I felt Noah’s fingers on my waist. “If it wasn’t a dream, then what do you think happened?”

“I told you already.”

“How would that work?”

I studied his face, searching for any trace of amusement. I didn’t find it. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of . . . me,” I said, and I knew that he knew what I meant.

“Just kissing?”

I shrugged.

“Not sex?”

“I’ve never had sex.”

“I’m aware. But if I recall correctly, you didn’t seem to be worried about it that night in my room.” The tiniest hint of a smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

I knew exactly which night he meant. It was the night he finally realized what I could do, when I killed every living thing in the insect house at the zoo, everything but us.

I thought I should leave him then, to keep him safe. I thought I should leave everyone I loved. But Noah wouldn’t let me and I was grateful because I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted him close, as close as he could possibly get. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t thinking much at all.

“I don’t know,” I said, backing down onto the bed. “How am I supposed to know?”

Noah followed my steps and unfurled on the mattress, drawing me down with him. My spine was pressed up against his chest; the silver pendant he always wore was cold against my skin, exposed in my tank top. The beat of his heart steadied mine.

Noah traced the length of my arm and held my hand. “We don’t have to do anything, Mara,” he said softly as my eyes began to close. I wanted to curl up in his voice and live there. “This truly is enough.”

I had one final thought before I slipped into sleep.

Not for me.





24


BEFORE


India. Unknown Province.


THE MAN IN BLUE LOOKED DOWN AT ME AS THE horses drew the carriage away, kicking up dust. “What is your name?”

I stared at him.

“Do you understand me?”

I nodded.

“I do not know what your guardian has told you, but you are in my care for now. We will have to give you a name.”

I was silent.

He let out a small sigh. “We have a journey ahead of us. Are you feeling well?”

I nodded again, and our journey began.

I was sad to leave the ships. We traveled by foot and by elephant back into the forest and still it was nearly sunset when we reached the village. The earth beneath my feet was dry and the air was quiet and still. I smelled smoke; there were many small huts that stretched out over the land, but there were no people.

“Come inside,” the Man in Blue said, and waved me into one of the huts. My eyes wrestled with the dark.

Something moved near me; a figure emerged out of the dimness. I could see only smooth, brown, flawless skin attached to a slight slip of a girl. She was taller than I, but I could not see her face. Ribbons of black hair fell limply below her shoulders.

“Daughter,” the Man in Blue said to the girl. “We have a guest.”

The girl stepped into the light, and I could finally see her. She was plain, but there was a kindness, a warmth in her clean face that made her pretty. She smiled at me.

I smiled back.

The Man in Blue rested his hand on the girl’s shoulder then. “Where is Mother?”

“A woman went into labor.”

The Man in Blue looked confused. “Who?”

The girl shook her head. “Not from here. A stranger, the husband, came for Mother. She said she would return as soon as she was able.”

The Man in Blue’s eyes tightened. “I must speak with you,” he said to her. Then he turned to me. “Wait here. Do not go outside. Do you understand?”

I nodded. He drew the girl away, out of the hut. I heard whispers but I could not understand the words. Moments later, the girl entered again. Alone.

She did not speak to me. Not at first. She took a step toward me, then turned up her palms. I did not move. She took another step, close enough now for me to catch her scent, earthy and intense. I liked it and I liked her warmth. She extended her arm then, and I let her touch me. She crouched in a corner and sat me down next to her. The girl drew me against her clean shift with the familiarity of someone who knew just the way I would fit. I wriggled, trying to get comfortable.

“You must not go out there,” she said, misunderstanding my movement.

I stilled. “Why?”

“So you can speak,” the girl said with a tiny smile. “It is not safe,” she added.

“It is too quiet.”

“People are sick. The noise hurts them.”