The Haunted - Jessica Verday [23]
I lost control. Only for a second, but I wanted to feel him. To taste him.
I crushed my mouth to his and teased the edge of his lips with my tongue. Instantly, he granted me entry, and the back of my brain exploded from the pleasure. There was no mistaking it. This was the reprieve I sought so desperately.
My eyes fluttered open and shut while Caspian weaved in and out of existence.
Brown eyes, brown hair.
Ben…
Green eyes. Blond hair.
Caspian…
Green… brown…
I caught myself. Was this wrong? To use Ben this way? Yes. I knew the answer to that question was a thousand times yes.
Tearing myself away, this time for good, I stepped out of his arms and away from the wall.
“I can’t… I’m sorry.” And then I was running.
Out of the diner, out to the car. I jumped in the passenger seat and put my head between my knees.
I was going crazy… again.
Ben came bursting out of the diner and called my name. I raised my head and lifted a hand—whether to call him over or warn him to stay away, I didn’t know. But suddenly the car roared to life.
Caspian was sitting in the driver’s seat.
I did a double take to make sure it wasn’t really Ben doing that weird flashing again, but Ben was still by the diner. We peeled out of the gravel driveway, spitting stones as we went, and I noticed that my hand was still up. Now it was catching the wind again.…
“What’s happening?” I choked out. My throat was dry and scratchy. “Why is this happening to me?”
Caspian didn’t answer; instead he turned on the radio. A violin wept in sadness. “Don’t you know, my love?” a female voice crooned, soft and full of emotion. “Would you die, my love? I am waiting, waiting for you. These ashes turned bone. Waiting, waiting for you. Waiting… waiting for you.”
As the violin echoed the singer’s dying last words, Caspian turned his gaze to mine and looked straight into my eyes. “I’m waiting, waiting for you.”
˜ ˜ ˜
I sat up straight, chest heaving, breath sawing in and out of me. Shoving heavy fistfuls of damp hair away from my face, I tried to slow everything down. My pulse was raging and it felt like I had a fever. And then I had a crazy thought.
I swung my legs out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and switched on the light. Of course my hair wasn’t windblown. My lips weren’t bruised and looking like they’d just been kissed.
But my eyes were wide, and my cheeks were pale. I pinched some color into them and leaned over the sink, replaying that crazy dream.
Was I having another breakdown? Or was my subconscious trying to tell me something?
I stood there a minute longer and then went back to the bedroom. But one glance at my rumpled sheets and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep again anytime soon. My foot bumped the necklace on the floor, but I gave it a sharp kick under the bed. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist.
I turned on my desk light and moved over to my new perfume cabinet. Reaching into the desk drawer, I pulled out a pen, a pair of scissors, and some unused paper that looked like old parchment. Then I opened my supply briefcase. Starting with the bottom row first, I made a label for each tiny bottle so that it would have its own drawer in the cabinet.
As I copied the names, the haunting melody of a violin echoed in my ears, and I started thinking about the sample notes of a perfume to match it.
Lavender. Honeysuckle. Jasmine. Wild violets. Something with just a hint of longing and heartbreak. Old roses left on a lover’s grave. A wilted carnation pressed between the pages of a prom program. Forgotten baby’s breath hastily discarded along with the bouquet’s green wax paper…
Jotting down possible formulations on a piece of the parchment paper, I came up with the perfect name for this new fragrance. I’d call it Ashes Turned Bone.
Later that morning I filled my cereal bowl and drank down a large glass of juice along with a cup of tea. I hadn’t been back to bed since the dream, but I felt oddly exhilarated in spite of my exhaustion. My fingers were