Heightened: The Federation Series by Miria Masdan

Author:Miria Masdan [Masdan, Miria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-05-25T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Emma

I’m angry. I throw the clothes across the room. My head is still spinning, and I need to steady myself. There’s a lump in my throat, and I can feel the tears burn. My stomach it twisted, and my core is throbbing with a thick, wet, heat.

“I’m such an idiot,” I grab the blanket and pull it over myself. My skin is sensitive, and the rough fabric against my bare breasts is arousing me again. I can feel them hard against my forearms.

I let out a small groan. I needed him. I still need him.

I laugh. I wonder if it’s like this for all interns and if it’s a cruel joke thought up by the Federation to prevent intimacy. I most certainly do not want to feel like this ever again. I can’t handle to urges or the reaction my body has to him.

I think about him, holding me close. Our bodies skin to skin. His hands are exploring every inch of my body; I can feel him against me: touching, kissing, tasting. My entire body shudders, as my core tightens in an uncontrollable spasm.

I gasp for air. Sweat covers my whole body, and I feel weak and tired. I curl up in a ball. I don’t bother to cover myself again. I start to cry. I can’t control my emotions.

Grace and Mandy don’t seem to be having this reaction. I must be worse than I thought. I don’t think I will ever be normal. Quinn is right I need to hide my heightening.

A sharp pain throbs behind my eyes. I close them and pull my blanket over my head. I fall asleep. I dream of him, but this time I can see his face. It starts out as a feeling of despair. I’m searching for him. I’m running in the darkness, but my feet are not touching the ground. I wheeze and spit. The air is thick. I can’t breathe.

My knees sink; I fall to my hands; the cold, wet earth sucking me down. I force myself free, stumbling to find a foothold. I grasp at the creek bank; finding a tangled web of roots. I pull myself to the top. I rest.

My mind is racing, but I demand my focus towards my breathing. In, out, slow, steady; over and over again, until the pounding of my heart subsides, and I can hear the sounds of the forest.

I listen. A low hiss and flutter, as the wind weaves its way through the trees, is all I can hear. I listen closer to the sound. The anticipation confuses my senses. I strain to hear a snap, a shuffle or metal against metal. My mind focus’ on one thought: if they have mastered stealth, he is as good as dead; I’ll never make it to him in time.

My nostrils flare; a long, deep infusion of air chills my lungs. I can feel my vest tighten as my chest expands. I savor the dank, decaying, musty odor. I count to ten and release a steady, calculated expiration of visible breath.

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