An even stronger gust swept across them as if trying to tear them apart. Abbigail screamed, the sound barely audible over the roar of the storm, and latched her arms around his neck. His grip on her waist slipped, her arms slipped and with a shout she went flying from his arms.
He swam hard through the water, following the white streak of her shirt. She appeared then disappeared again and again as water sucked her up and down. His arms burned but he dove towards her. Fear caught him. He couldn’t lose her now, not when he’d come so far.
“Abbigail!” he shouted over the storm.
He barely heard his own words over the whooshing windstorm. He heard her shout, the sound so faint in the noise around him. He went with his instincts and swam hard towards where he guessed she’d gone. White flashes struck the sky. Dark clouds thundered up above with menace.
He swam some thirty feet before he felt a lump at his knees. Ducking under the water, he opened his eyes and found her drifting, eyes closed beneath the water. He screamed, swallowing a gulp of water and rushed to the surface to take in a much needed breath of air before diving down to snag her limp body about the waist.
Together, he took them to the surface. His body worked harder than he ever had before by swimming against the violent current of the storm and towards what he hoped was the shore. When the water grew shallower around them, he could have cheered. With a final burst of energy, he sprinted until he finally stood at the shore. He lifted her small body into his arms and raced from the storm, his booted feet slipping in the wet slop.
Still, the rain gushed over them, drowning his vision, and making it hard to see. He found a canopy under some trees and laid her under it. The trees barely managed to keep the vicious rain at bay. He breathed into her mouth again and again.
“Abbigail! Wake up!” He pressed a hand to her chest and felt the subtle rise and fall. She wasn’t dead. Relief swamped him and he sagged over her, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair.
KEER POW!
Lightning struck too close to be comfortable. The ground shuddered beneath him and heat seared him to the bone. He didn’t hesitate another moment. With gentleness he didn’t know he had, he cradled Abbigail in his arms and ran out of the storm, hoping it wouldn’t follow.
Chapter Eight
Abbigail pushed herself up with a groan. Her whole body felt stiff as if she’d had a vicious workout. The muscles in her arms, back, and legs throbbed with a fiery burn. It took some effort but she forced herself to stand. Her knees wobbled and she gasped as blood rushed to her feet creating a burning pinprick sensation that poked her from the inside out. Her hand shot out to steady herself but didn’t grasp onto anything. She teetered to the right, and then straightened up by locking her knees to stop from falling.
She then realized she wasn’t in their little cave hideout beneath the beach. Not even close. She was in a building of some kind. It looked similar to the temple she’d hidden in from Alrik, or at least she was assuming it was temple of some kind since she wasn’t exactly adverse in demonic architecture. Colored stones in dark greys and shiny black covered the room’s walls and floor creating a medieval, yet beautiful look. A doorway paved out of the same stone, stood at opposite stone wall. Bright light poured in. She could see trees waving in the wind some distance away. She blinked against the brightness as her eyes adjusted to the light.
Where was Alrik? What happened? She thought back and fought to remember. She remembered the birds. Birds have never scared her before, but those did. And then, the storm. That storm...
It was as if it was after them, trying to kill him. She’d never felt anything so ominous before. The storm seemed to have one goal in mind: to swipe them down into that lake and make sure they didn’t return for air.
She didn’t want to think about how powerful his mother must be if she could send a storm that powerful after them, and he’d said she wasn’t even close to them. She could perform that kind of magic from great distances?
Abbigail shivered as dread filled her. No way could she kill a person, even if she wanted to. No way she could go up against someone that powerful and win. Hell, she was a medical examiner not a combat-trained witch. Alrik showed greater magical powers than she did. Right, but according to some seer, he couldn’t kill his own mother because of the curse. Again, she wanted to know more about this curse. What kind of woman would curse her own son and to what purpose? Just why.
Abbigail walked out into the light. The day was surprisingly cold. Wind blew making her shiver. Abby hugged herself against the biting chill. Her clothes were dry now but she still wore the jeans and t-shirt she’d changed into after the police came to her house. She didn’t want to think about how long she’d been wearing these clothes. Nope, she wasn’t going there.
She took in the scenery outside. If the rift was one thing—beautiful was it. The landscape rolled up and down in hills some ways in the distance. The ground was covered in vibrant green grass, golden flowers, or maybe they were weeds to the demons, that were short or sometimes as tall as her waist. Trees were taller here; trunks thicker and older looking as if they’d never been cut down, never had to grow a new one. Everything looked so similar to a forest she might have visited in a park before, but it was the small details that made the difference.
Something made her pause her surveying, some niggling feeling at the back of her head. Slowly, Abby turned then stilled. Even her breath stopped.
Alrik sat on his knees, ankles behind him with his back facing her. His shirt lay on the ground beside him. His dark, black skin showed almost shining in the reflection of the light. His back was a piece of art. If someone had asked her what the perfect man’s body would look like, she would have fumbled for an answer before. Well, now she had an answer. It’d look like Alrik.
Smooth sinew rose over strong shoulders and down a tapered, thick waist. A strong enough waist she could wrap her legs around, squeeze, and it wouldn’t break him. Her chest grew hot and breasts pulled tight and heavy as she pictured doing just that.
His arms, which hung loosely in his lap, were nothing to sniff at. Even relaxed, his shoulders rounded out hard then cut in over solid triceps and bulking forearm muscles. He looked smooth and completely hairless. His dark ebony skin was like looking into a sky without any stars.
She’d taken a spinning class at her local gym a few years back with her friend Jenna, not that Jenna needed the workout, she practically had a six-pack from just walking which wasn’t fair. But even at the gym she’d hadn’t seen a man like this. She’d seen strong men, men who worked to get cut and hard, but nothing about Alrik’s body shouted “muscles obtained by gym-membership.” He wasn’t bulky; he was thick, strong, and cut. She flushed all over. Need gripped her and chose that moment to remind her how long it’d been since she touched a man. She hadn’t been physically intimate with anyone since college. Yeah, that would be two years ago now. Yikes.
“Are you done staring at me?”
Alrik’s deep voice jolted her. Abby’s face burned red and she started to run back into the little stone house but that’d be cowardly. Instead, she stood her ground, blush and all. However, she still hoped he wouldn’t turn around and see that blush. What did it mean that she found him so deliciously attractive? It couldn’t be good, not at all. Every instinct she had told her as much.