Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(55)

I lay motionless in the middle of the expanse, searching all around me for something familiar. My eyes stopped on a small stretch of faded black that grew and throbbed off in the distance. Something about the black called to me, just like the blackness that haunted me in my pained body.

I sat up, surprised when my body obeyed my commands. I had been trapped in a pain-filled, motionless prison for so long that part of me was beginning to wonder if I would ever move again. I swung my legs around in front of me, my movement quick as I slipped on fleece pajama pants I had never seen before. I looked down at them curiously, trying to place them, but they weren’t familiar at all. As I reached toward the pants, the long sleeve of Ryland’s hoodie slipped over my hand. Unknown pajama pants and Ryland’s hoodie; what odd things to be wearing in a dream.

I looked at them curiously, trying to think why my subconscious would place me in such odd clothing, and then I remembered Wyn holding me under the water. A flash of her tattooed face was all it took to incite panic in my chest. I gasped involuntarily, my chest heaving.

At my terror, a large comforting hand rested on my back. I turned toward the touch, surprised to see Ryland sitting next to me, his dark curls falling over his forehead. That wasn’t right… how could Ryland be here? And, where was I?

My heart skipped a beat at seeing him there, right next to me. He sat still beside me, staring at me; his bright, blue eyes seeking into mine. He wore torn and stained jeans, but his chest was bare, his muscles defined and glistening as if he had just run a mile or two. I thought carefully over what to say, worried my hundreds of questions would topple over themselves in a jumble.

“Am I dead?” I asked, my voice sounding perfectly fine despite the burn in my throat as I spoke.

“No.” Ryland’s voice was low and comforting.

“Are you dead?”

“Anything but.”

“So I am dreaming?”

“No.” His answer was confident; it caught me off-guard as the question was mostly rhetorical.

“Then, where are we?” I could hear the desperate panic creeping into my voice.

Ryland leaned forward and moved my hair away from my face, letting his fingertips linger on the skin of my jaw.

“I think it’s some form of shared consciousness,” he whispered.

“I don’t understand.” This seemed more like a dream than anything else. It felt like a dream. It looked like a dream. Even through Ryland’s confident answer, I still felt like I knew I was dreaming.

“That’s all right. I wouldn’t expect you to. Everything is so new to you. I wish I could be there to help you through it; you are probably very scared.”

“Isn’t it new to you?”

“No, Joclyn. I have known about this my entire life.” His fingers continued to trail around my face, over the lines of my neck. The touch was warm and comforting; I was having trouble thinking straight.

“This?” I motioned to the white expanse around us.

“No, silly, not white spaces that lead into nothingness.” His tone was exactly like Ryland; it was hard to believe that my dreams could be so accurate.

“Then what?”

Ryland exhaled deeply at my question and looked around him for something; or more like he was expecting someone.

“Tell me what happened to you.” He moved closer to me, his voice soft. My previous question lay forgotten behind me as my memory of the evening began running through my mind in fast forward.

“I failed you, Ryland.” I could feel the tears trying to burst out, my face growing warm as I attempted to restrain them.

Ryland leaned forward and pulled me into his lap, his arms winding their way around me.

“You didn’t fail,” he whispered into my ear, his lips rubbing against my mark. The touch of his lips against the mark sent a slight shock through me.

“But I went to my house, and my mom was… she was…” My voice caught, unsure if I wanted to face it, unsure if I could accept it. “And things were flying and then there was an explosion and… and I fell out of the window…”

Ryland pulled me to him tighter, my tumble of words instantly ceasing.

“I’m sorry, Joclyn, for everything. I never wanted you to be dragged into any of this. If I had remembered there was a window there, I wouldn’t have made the blast quite so strong.”

He made the blast? I looked at him, confused, begging him to elaborate; but he only smiled at the look on my face.

“Your back seems to be healing nicely, though.” He ran his fingertips up my spine, sending a warm shiver trailing behind.

“Healing? How?”

“The same way you are healing me, Jos.” He ran his fingers up my back again, through my hair, over the soft skin of my face. His touch seemed so real, I found myself leaning into the bare skin of his chest, breathing in his smell.

“Everything is so confusing, Ryland,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s all quite simple, isn’t it, when you think about it?” The small smile evident in his quiet voice.

I shook my head against him. I didn’t know what was simple about explosions and flying and… and… my mother.

“How is it simple, Ryland?”

“Oh, Joclyn, you are so special, and you don’t even know it yet.” His fingers trailed along my hairline comfortably. “Don’t reject what’s inside you, sweetheart.”