Knight (Unfinished Hero #1)(10)

I fought, moved my arms, my legs, trying to direct myself to the shore but nothing I did changed the direction the flow was taking me.

I looked to the shore and saw Vivica running along it, her mouth open, her eyes terrified, shouting but no sound coming out. She tripped and fell to her hands and knees and disappeared.

Then there was Sandrine, running like Vivica, eyes on me, fear etched in her face. But suddenly Nick was there. She stopped, looked up at him, smiled and threw herself in his arms. His head bent, her hands went into his hair and they started kissing.

Figured.

Then, weirdly, since I hadn’t seen him in years, there was my high school boyfriend, Sean. He was running along the shore too, his arms moving in a breast stroke, calling out instructions, I knew, even though no sound came out. I did what he said but nothing helped, I kept whirling and gliding violently with the stream.

“Anya!” he shouted, his voice tortured then he ran into a tree and vanished.

And then there was my aunt. She didn’t move. Just stood on the shore, arms crossed on her chest, mouth smirking.

That figured too.

I lost sight of her and kept moving, fighting, exhausted, terrified out of my mind. I was going to smash into one of those boulders. I knew it. I knew.

No, no. Fear pulsed through me as I saw up ahead the river falling away to nothing.

And there I was, alone, lost in a current I couldn’t fight, careening headlong into nothing.

Then I felt him and my head jerked to the shore.

Knight.

He wasn’t running along the side. Without hesitation, he dove in, his long body slicing through the air and into the water then he was cutting through it, his powerful arms bringing him straight to me.

Thank God, Knight.

Thank God, I wasn’t going to face nothing alone.

I’d have Knight.

He made it to me, his arms wrapping around me, one hand sliding up my neck, into my wet hair, cupping the back of my head. My legs fought through the water to wrap around his h*ps as our bodies met, my arms wrapped tight around him and I held on.

“You’re here,” I whispered.

He didn’t respond. He just held my eyes and held on.

And we slid over the edge, together, holding tight, into nothing.

* * * * *

My eyes blinked open as my body jolted, still in freefall from my dream.

I was breathing slightly heavily, trying to shake away the dream.

I dreamed a lot. It started in second grade. I remembered them when I woke up. They were clear, vivid, powerful. It didn’t happen every night but it happened frequently. Sometimes they were good. Sometimes they were horrifying.

I steadied my breath and shook off my dream.

Then I got up to an elbow, lifting my other hand to pull my hair away from my face and looking to the window with my misty, pretty (but cheap) curtains over the slightly battered Venetian blinds that came with the apartment. I felt under me the abrasive, worn pills of the cheap sheets I’d had too long but I knew, after I bought my new cell phone, new, nicer sheets were on the schedule.

And I tried not to think about the fact that I could still feel Knight’s arms tight around me.

Chapter Three

Filled with Knight

After I parked, I hurried to the trunk, opened it up, grabbed my canvas bags filled with groceries, swinging one over my shoulder with my purse and grabbing the other two. Then I put one to the cement of the parking lot, slammed the trunk, snatched it up and hurried.

It was the Wednesday after the Saturday night party at Knight-slash-Nick’s. Saturday night (or, really, Sunday morning), I’d dreamed of Knight. I’d also dreamed of him Monday night. And last night.

And I couldn’t get him out of my head.

I knew why and there were several reasons. One, he was hot. He might be scary but scary never eradicated hot. Or, at least, not his kind of hot. Two, he’d given me nothing. Well, he’d given me his anger, a hint he had a sense of humor and a tendency toward throwaway chivalrous gestures but other than that, nothing. He didn’t laugh, smile or talk very much. I knew he didn’t like Russians. I knew he didn’t like loud parties, people and mess in his apartment. I knew he had money and good taste or sense enough (and the finances) to hire someone who did. But other than that, I knew nothing. Not even his last name. And, not knowing much, I didn’t want him to but he intrigued me. Three, he’d picked me up and I’d felt his hard-muscled shoulders and the power of his body. It was affecting. I wasn’t heavy but I certainly wasn’t slight. This, too, intrigued me but in a very different way.

And last, after contemplating it for some time, too much of it (like, nearly always), his reaction to my building irked me. He didn’t shield me from his anger or his personality, such as it was, but his clear contempt of my living arrangements (and I was certain this was it), was offensive. It was also, though I couldn’t know this but I felt it, out of character. No one who could show signs of courtesy and take care to be sensitive to the differences in our financial circumstances at the same time pointing them out should behave the way he did when he saw my humble abode. It didn’t fit but it did annoy me.

As I rounded the building and walked up the front steps all of this was on my mind as it had been for days. Along with this I wondered why it was on my mind since I’d never see the guy again. And along with this, what was on my mind was that I couldn’t deny the fact that this was upsetting. Like I knew at a glance Nick Sebring was a jerk, I knew at a glance Knight Whoever was dangerous. I should steer clear. I knew this and the fact of the matter was I had no choice. Knight Whoever and I would not cross paths. Still, I couldn’t help but wish we did.