Kiss of Fire by Ethington Rebecca

Author:Ethington, Rebecca [Ethington, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Goodreads: 17280547
Publisher: Imdalind Press
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

The light was so bright I could see the veins in my eyelids. I looked at the thin, pink skin before opening them, blinking furiously in an attempt to preempt the pain that never came. My body rested against the hard, bright white floor of a huge, white space. There were no doors, windows, or even walls that I could see—only an endless white space.

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.

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