Page 95 of Deck of Scarlets
“And you’re dead.” That voice iced my skin, threatening to end someone I cared deeply for.
Josh struggled, then the noises stopped, and I turned at the last second to see a sword stab him directly in the heart.
I dropped to my knees, screaming, “JOSH!”
Standing over his body was an all too familiar man, hair black as night, clothes of the same color. A smile, one of deceit and destruction, mocking me from afar. I lost my will to move, to continue, feeling the connection of our souls fizzle out, fading into the abyss.
My chest throbbed, the absence of his voice, his soul, weighing a heavy burden inside. Leaning forward on my hands and knees, I tried to catch my breath.
A dark shadow blocked out the sun, and the dark man bent down until his rough hand gripped the back of my neck.
“Now you’re mine.”
Gasping, I awoke to the sight of Josh shaking my shoulders. Without thinking, I pulled him into a tight embrace, making sure it felt real.
“Rem… you… you’re… crush… ing… my… wind… pipe!” he choked.
I didn’t care, because he was there, alive, in my room, the smell of his musk easing the terror away, never to scare me again. “Give me a minute. Please.” Easing the pressure off his lungs, I continued to hug his strong build.
Tears escaped, hitting his shoulder. “Are you crying?”
Yes. “No.” Soon, they flowed, and I tried my hardest to muffle my sobs.
He circled his arms around me, and we sat, holding onto one another. He let me cry for what seemed like forever until nothing else came out, but he never once let go. I focused on my breathing, my stomach hurting from the intensity of my sobs. Josh, warm and sturdy, rubbed my back in circles, waiting it out in silence.
My throat was parched and sore, and breaking away, I looked into his eyes, blue as the ocean, a sea I happily got lost in.
Pushing my hair back behind my ears, our bond sizzled underneath the surface. What to say when a dream that real plagued my mind? “I’m sorry.”
“Remi, it was only a dream,” he soothed.
Was it? When all of it, right down to his death, might follow into reality.
Josh gave me some time to collect myself before our second training session. I stomached what food I could in the cafe, but whatever appetite I had faded as the day went on.
Before going, I stopped to visit Heather. The machines beeped away like nothing had changed, keeping her stable. According to Nurse Amelia, her body temperature never reached the standard but dipped a few times during my absence. I gave her my personal number and firm instructions to call me if that ever happened again.
Making my way to the main dining room underground, the curtains behind the dais were wide open, showing a very shirtless, very sweaty Josh running on the treadmill.
Sweat dripped down his pecs, right into the waistband of his shorts. His body, of godly perfection, glistened, tempting me to lick every inch—I never built a mental wall so fast in my life, heat spreading to my cheeks.
Wireless headphones blasted some heavy beat inside his ears, and he picked up the pace, matching the tempo. He ran his fingers through his hair, drenched in sweat, finally looking up to see me gawking on the side.
He waved, taking one earbud out. “Hop on, killer.”
Dropping my bag, I used the other machine to his right, setting up my incline, when he handed me his other earbud. “Thanks.” He must’ve lowered the volume, but the beat was catchy, getting me into a groove rather quickly.
I peeked over at his time, watching the clock tick up to forty minutes. Was he here the whole time while I checked on Heather?
We ran in silence, only the sound of our shoes hitting the tread, his music accompanying our workout. It was no shock that his tastes were like what he played, and I wondered when the last time was. Between the infamous party and our little escape upstate, when did he have the time to gig out with his fellow bandmates?
My muscles groaned in protest, not used to working so hard since freshmen year track; the only time I took part in anything in all my high school career.
I picked up speed to match him, and he took notice of our pace and smiled, his face covered in perspiration. For someone to be that sweaty running and look hot while doing it was enough to put any runway model to shame.
Double-checking my mental walls, I smiled in return, my heart pumping overtime with the physical activity and his sensual lips perking up at the corners of that goddamn mouth.
Thirty minutes came and went, and calling it quits, I leaned forward, hands on knees, trying to control my breathing.