Even though the pain of the burns is gone, I don’t want to let go of MJ. I pull his arms tighter around me. He shifts, making the boards of Hiniker Bridge groan.
I glance around, waiting for Alexander and Tamitha to reappear at the noise, but they don’t. They must have left.
I turn back into MJ, still raw with confusion. He makes it better. Focusing on his essence continuously looping around my insides reminds me I’m with him. I’m safe.
“I wanted to wait . . .” he begins.
I look up into his hazel eyes. They’re hooded, concealing most of their brilliance, as he frowns.
“I wanted to let things settle down. I didn’t want to push you. But I need to know about your visions. I need to know how and why this happens,” he says, pointing to my now-healed legs. “And I need to know how to keep you from getting hurt like this.”
I take a deep breath, preparing myself. Incredibly, I’m not nervous as I was when I told Kelli about the dreams. No matter what, I know MJ will accept me and still love me. I won’t tell him all the secrets—not when he’s still keeping things from me. But I trust him with this.
“For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of a fairy-tale romance between two people known as the Dream Girl and the Dark Prince . . .”
I tell him about the dreams. I tell him how they work and that I’m not psychic. And I tell him how the dreams have changed now that the connection to Elizabeth—though I don’t say her name—is broken. I grip his hand harder when I tell him I met the Dream Girl and that she helped me at Justin’s house.
“You mean you dreamed of her, right?” He gazes deeper into me as he wills me to say yes, but I can’t.
“No. It was real. She somehow brought me to her while my body was with Justin.”
His eyes clamp shut, and the veins in his neck extend as he tightens his jaw. After a few controlled breaths, he opens his eyes. There is a coldness to them now—as if he’s pulled away from me.
I wish he’d stop reacting whenever I mention what took place at Justin’s house. I know he blames himself, but he shouldn’t.
“Were you here at the bridge?” MJ asks. His voice feels a million miles away. I have to bring him back to me.
“No. She said it was a version of Heaven, and from the perfect sky and clouded ground, I believed her. I think she wanted to tell me what you and Justin were, but she couldn’t. So instead, she showed me your death.”
“What do you mean she showed it to you? You said you dreamed about my death.”
I turn away, not wanting to see his expression as he uncovers this lie. But then I turn back to him and meet his eyes. I’m done lying to him.
“She has this fountain—she called it a Time Keeper. On the surface of the water were images of you and Lifa. She put me in the fountain, and when I came out of it, I was inside Lifa. That’s how I saw your death. I wanted to explain all this to you . . . I just didn’t know how. Calling it a dream seemed simpler at the time.”
“What else did she do to you?” he snaps.
I don’t believe he’s mad at me—at least I hope not. I think his anger lies with Elizabeth. To him, she’s just another unknown being in a long list of beings he wants to protect me from. But she’s not like the others. She’s good, and I need to make him see that.
“When I woke up, I was back at Justin’s house, but I could feel her with me. She helped me before you got there. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve signed the contract the first time Justin tried.”
The horrible, painful memory plagues me. What little safety I felt here with MJ is sucked out of me, and all that’s left is an icy chill.
A burst of frozen air escapes my lips as I take in the changing scene around us. Frost creeps along the pond, shriveling everything it touches with its icy claws.
MJ’s essence furiously battles the bitter cold inside me. Slowly, warmth builds inside me, and slowly the pond returns to normal.
MJ caresses my cheek. “Can you promise me something, Maddy?”
“What?”
“Don’t use your ability to go to other places anymore—not even the bridge. Not until we understand it better.”
“Why?”
“Just promise me, please.”
I stare at him, seeing the distance in his eyes. Something scared him. Was it the frost, the vision of Lauren, or is there more to it? Whatever it is, I want to put his mind at ease. “Okay,” I reply. “I’ll try not to use my ability.”
“Thank you,” he says. Then his brows furrow. “If this Dream Girl is responsible for sending you dreams and showing you my death, how and why did you see Lauren?”
I frown, still haunted by what happened. “I don’t think the Dream Girl had anything to do with that. Her memories are meant to help me—build trust between us by showing me the truth. But what I experienced with Lauren . . . there was nothing good about it.”
“If this was a vision, then how in the world did it burn your legs like that?”
My frown deepens, knowing this will upset him further. “Since my dreams with the Dream Girl have broken, any time something bad happens in a vision, it happens to me too.”
His eyes widen. “Tell me there’s a way to stop you from dreaming. Please.”
“The Dream Girl is trying to stop the dreams. She says there are only a few left, though.”
“I don’t care. I can’t stand seeing you get hurt like this, Maddy. It’s crushing me.”
My heart twists in agony, hating what these visions do to both of us. What I see and feel is horrible, but MJ is forced to sit by and watch me go through it. He feels the pain when he heals me—including my emotional aftermath. I wish I could stop these dreams, but I can’t. I have no control over them, just as I no longer have control over a lot of things.
“I’ll find a way,” he says. “I promise.”
I meet his gaze and offer a weak smile, knowing he can’t.
“Has the Dream Girl helped you other times?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The day I met you.”
His eyes drift as he thinks back to that day. Suddenly his eyes brighten.
“She created the windstorm, didn’t she?”
I nod.
He pauses. “Do you trust her?”
“I don’t fully trust anyone, MJ.”
He looks away, but not before I see his eyes dim. He knows that includes him.
“I’m sorry if that hurts,” I say, “but I want to be honest with you. Regardless of how I feel about you, we met six days ago. We can’t expect to know everything about each other in that amount of time. Certain pieces of ourselves are still in the dark for one reason or another. Besides, if we did know everything about each other, what would we talk about for the rest of our life?”
Suddenly, he grins, his arms curling around me, holding me closer to his chest. “There’s plenty to do when we run out of things to talk about . . .”
In a blur, MJ pulls me to my feet, then kisses me. Just as earlier, he holds his essence back, but that’s where the similarities end. His lips move furiously against mine. He’s always been so gentle, but this . . . this is a rough, needy, desperate kind of kiss that makes my toes curl.
He bends me backward, curving over me. His tongue slides into my mouth. I just . . . give in to the bliss. I feel him everywhere—his body pressed against mine and his hands exploring my back.
My heart pounds. He must feel it against him. Heat consumes me, but I want to be devoured by this blaze.
My hands move into his hair, curling, yanking, desperate to find some way to pull him closer. It’s no longer a question of want. I need him. I need him more than I need sunlight, water, air.
This amazing, powerful, sensual kiss is my new addiction. Whatever I did to make him kiss me like this, I want to do it over and over and over again.
Our kiss ends, and I snuggle closer, knowing our time here won’t last forever. His essence resumes flowing through me. My mind quiets, and a content smile crosses my face. I don’t know if he removed all my troubles or just shoved them into places out of reach, but for the moment, I don’t care.
“Thank you for everything today,” I say. “I’m sure healing me wasn’t easy—nor was hearing the truth about my dreams. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out. I’m never letting you go.”
“After everything that’s happened lately, I don’t want you to.”
“Good. There are millions of angels like me and only one of you.”
My heart flutters, and again I’m in awe of how easy and right it feels to be with him. Despite our secrets and despite our differences, we keep coming back to moments like this—where everything is perfect. And it only exists because we’re together.
No matter what happens next, no matter who tries to take me from him, I have to keep fighting. I have to fight for myself. For him. For us. I will not let anything take this from me.
With all the positivity flowing through me, I want the conversation to stay light and airy. I want to joke around, as we did when we went bowling. MJ was more human than I’ve seen him any other time we’ve been together. Maybe a bit of his mortal personality was coming through. I want to know more about MJ instead of Protector MJ.
“Hmm . . . ” I begin. “A million MJs. I like the sound of that.”
I feel his cheek move against the top of my head. “I don’t know.” His voice lightens, and I suspect he’s smiling. “I’m not sure I could share you, even with someone extremely good-looking.”
I snort.
“I hope that was in reaction to my possessiveness and not a critique of my looks.”
“Actually, it was about your looks. Specifically that ‘extremely good-looking’ is an inadequate modifier.”
“Well, then. Someone’s been paying attention in English class.”
“Hardly. My friends all say you’re ‘hot,’ but that’s not good enough. I’ve been trying to come up with something better.”
“And what have you come up with?”
“I’ve found many words that I thought were perfect, then I’d see you again and realize they didn’t fit. I finally came to the conclusion that since you aren’t technically mortal, no mortal word would ever work for you. It was a very freeing realization. Plus, why rack my brains for words to describe you when it’s way more fun to just sit back and admire the pretty?”
“The pretty?”
I throw my arms around his neck. “My pretty.”
“Um, let’s not call me that around Alexander. That would make for a very long eternity.”
I smirk, liking how they tease each other. “Deal. Where is he, anyway? And Tamitha?”
He tenses against me, and his essence flowing through me suddenly jerks. “I’m not sure. Hang on.”
MJ pulls back his essence and lets me go. I lean against the railing, watching him. His eyes are closed, and his face is relaxed.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m reaching out to Alexander.”
“What does that mean?”
The corners of his mouth twitch as he fights a smile. “I’m using something we call Cerebrallink to search out his essence and communicate with him.”
So they can communicate nonverbally with each other? Maybe that explains how Damien talked to Elizabeth in her mind. And this must have been what Alexander was doing in the parking lot after school before my “surprise.”
All of a sudden, MJ stiffens as if a jolt of electricity went through him. He opens his eyes, and they’re darker. A ridge appears between his brows.
I reach out for him, placing my hand on his arm. “MJ, what’s wrong? What did Alexander say?”
He frowns before placing a swift kiss on my forehead. “Let’s get you home. Your parents will be making dinner soon.”
I cross my arms. “Tell me what he said,” I demand.
He rubs his neck and meets my gaze. We stay there, silently staring at each other.
Then he says, “The demon serial killer claimed another victim today.”