Find Me (Immersed Book 1) Page 5

  He was studying her in the same way she was studying him. She found herself trying to smooth strands of hair from her face, feeling silly as she did. There was something wild about him, as appealing as it was alarming. Like Peter Pan all grown up and darkly sexy. Maybe even…dangerous. Like he could be wicked, and make her like it. Whatever it was that was so compelling about him escaped her attempts to define.

  He smiled at her again, just a half smile, and her heart did something odd in her chest. New and strangely exhilarated feelings stirred inside her. The intensity of her response to him disturbed her, and as if pushing against a tide, she turned to leave once more.

  “Please, wait” she heard again, a soft whisper this time, as if it were inside her head. The words were loaded with a sweet leaden weight that went straight to her bones like liquid honey. She turned slowly back to find him standing close to her, within touching distance. His eyes seemed darker, like black opals gleaming in the sunlight.

  The warmth in her body pulled at her and she wanted to close the distance between them, found it hard to think of anything else. Alarm fluttered, nudging against the sweet heaviness spreading through her. Alarm that kept her from falling into this stranger’s arms, kept her heavy head just clear enough to be aware that this wasn’t normal.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing them as if dazzled by sunlight, and the weight in her eased and lifted. A slight feeling of nausea rolled through her and disappeared. Keeping her eyes closed for a heartbeat more she held her breath in, certain that when she looked again he’d be gone. But when she opened them he was there in front of her.

  Meeting his dark eyes, Skye was startled by his furious expression. But at once he looked rueful, apologetic, and she realised that he’d been angry with himself.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean… I just...didn’t want you to go.” His husky voice was soft as he stepped back. What was he apologising for? The glittering obsidian she thought she’d seen in his eyes had gone. Perhaps she’d imagined it? They were smoky grey, like ocean depths that someone had swirled dark ink into. Like the sea before a storm.

  “May I…join you?” He sounded unsure of what he was asking. She blinked at him, trying to get her bearings, feeling like she’d slipped into someone else’s déjà vu. Momentarily unable to put words together, she nodded.

  He sat on a wide seat-like rock, and gestured to the space next to him, beads of water on his skin glistening in the sunlight, as if he was inviting her to join him lounging on some sofa somewhere. Skye shook her head with a faint smile. This was surreal. She slowly sat down and looked up to find him watching her quizzically.

  “Is something amusing?” He sounded genuinely curious.

  She pressed her hands to the hot rock on either side of her. “Not amusing exactly, just…weird. But not in a bad way,” she added as he looked disconcerted.

  For the second time that day, a light breeze cooled the traces of tears on her cheeks. As though following the touch of the wind, the boy’s eyes took them in. Skye was embarrassed, reminded of private pain. But before she could wipe them away, he lifted his hand and drew his thumb across the path of a stray tear, leaving a wet smudge of salt water on her cheek. His touch was as cold as the watery mark he left on her skin.

  Her heart pounded. This sort of thing didn’t happen to her.

  “Not amused exactly,” he quoted softly, “but definitely sad?”

  She dropped her eyes, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment, and as conscious of the trace of his touch as if it had been burned into her skin. Taking a steadying breath, she looked at him again. For a fleeting moment as she met his compelling eyes she felt the feather-light whisper of something dark. Again, an odd sense of déjà vu gripped her. But both passed in an instant. What remained was a feeling of certain safety.

  “Tell me?” he invited gently.

  Skye swallowed. She wasn’t going to talk about her mother. So that left… “Well, I have this thing about…the sea. I’m just…not so good with it.” She glanced at him, and was surprised to see his dark brows drawn together in a frown.

  “You don’t like the sea?”

  “I definitely like the sea,” she replied. “In fact, I love it. But – sometimes I can’t be in it. Perfect for a visit to the seaside, right?” she tried to laugh it off. At his silence she inwardly acknowledged how weird her fear sounded.

  “‘A visit’. You don’t live here?”

  “No. A friend invited me. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “You’re not so good with the sea, yet you came for a holiday – to the sea?”

  “Kind of masochistic, huh?”

  “Why are you here, so close to the water, when you can’t be in it?”

  She looked out at the glittering water. “Well, here is as close as I can get to the water without actually being in it. I want to be able to, anytime, no problem. So I’m trying to, I don’t know, get used to the idea.”

  “So, you risk pain to experience pleasure.” For some reason his simple observation felt almost as intimate as his touch on her cheek had earlier, and she looked down.

  Conscious of his gaze, she tried to explain. “Morgan – my friend, who invited me – she’s great. I know she gets my…issues. But I don’t want to ruin her holiday. I thought I might be able to get over it if I sort of came at it sideways. Not actually go in, just…practice. Like a dummy run.” She knew she was babbling, and risked looking at him again.

  His eyes had narrowed a little. “So, you also risk pain to give your friend happiness – or rather, to protect her?”

  That was a pretty strong way of putting it, she thought. His grey eyes were intense as they searched hers, as if trying to figure her out. She shrugged awkwardly. “I guess.”

  “You’re a good friend to her,” he said.

  Skye felt out of her depth. She stared at a cluster of barnacles near her feet, nudging them with her toes, and watched them clamp even more tightly to the rocks.

  “Are you staying long? With your friend Morgan?” he asked.

  “Just for the summer.” They fell silent. Realising she didn’t want this conversation to be over she searched for something to say. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “I suppose…Hunter is my name.”

  He supposed? “Hunter...” She liked it. It felt…right.

  “And your name – what should I call you?” he asked.

  “Skye.”

  “Skye.” His voice, soft as a breath, sent delicious shivers up her back.

  Her heart skipped oddly at the warmth in his eyes. She tried to think of something else to say, to keep him talking, and distract him from the effect he had on her. Or distract herself. “Do you live here?”

  “In the sea…practically,” he said. “Best ocean view in the world.” He smiled as if at some private joke. Skye glanced back towards the distant homes nudging the village skyline that commanded the best views of the Bay. Maybe he was wealthy.

  “Have you always lived here?” she asked.

  “We move around a lot. But this is…home to me.”

  Wanting to draw him out, Skye asked “Do you have a big family?” He smiled without answering. “What?” she asked.

  “Just this.”

  “‘This’?” she repeated. She really liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

  “This. Us. Talking. Us, talking together.” His smile lit his eyes. “I don’t get to talk to...people...much. And I’m enjoying talking with you.”

  Skye smiled with pleasure, and quickly scrambled for another question. “So, what do you do, Hunter?” She sighed at herself. That was the best she could do?

  He dropped his head for a moment, then looked up at her. His voice was low when he replied. “I swim.”

  “Like – a professional swimmer? Are you on a team?”

  “Yes…part of a team, of sorts.”

  “Okay, part of a team, of sorts. What does that mean, exactly?” He seemed to ponder her question. “Or –
what is your role in your team?” she amended.

  With a slight smile he tilted his head. “My role? I think my role is…Keeper.”

  Skye studied his face to see if he was teasing. He looked watchful.

  “Keeper? Do you mean…what do you mean?” she asked with a slight laugh.

  “I guess I keep the team…functioning. And in line. As much as I can.”

  “Wow.” He looked young, but his eyes hinted at an old soul. She suddenly realised she hadn’t thanked him for the channel, the small matter of saving her life. “I – I was hoping I’d be able to tell you – I’m really grateful to you for saving me,” she said shyly.

  “Saving you?” his expression became guarded.

  “Yes. It was you, wasn’t it? In the channel, yesterday? I was in the accident – the Pixie – you helped me to the surface. Um, you might not recognise me, but...thanks,” she finished awkwardly.

  He regarded her, seeming troubled for a moment, then smiled, “Of course I recognise you. And – you’re more than welcome.” It was oddly formal, but his voice was warm, and Skye smiled back. Sitting here, talking with him, felt somehow...familiar. And good.

  “Actually,” she said, “Have we met before? Do I – should I – know you?”

  Almost imperceptibly he went still. “Do you know me?” he asked. Skye hesitated. Something about his voice, and even the way his dark wet hair followed the shape of his head to drip where it ended at his shoulders, the way beads of water ran down his smooth skin, and his captivating eyes, all felt familiar to her. But she could never have forgotten this boy.

  “Do you know me?” he repeated, his soft voice low.

  Though the words felt like a lie, she managed to say them. “No. I don’t know you.”

  Was it her imagination, or did he look relieved? Or was it – disappointed? Skye was confused, and a flutter of warning returned. “I’d better go.” That seemed too abrupt, so she tried to soften it with humour. “Tide’s coming in – wouldn’t wanna drown or anything.”

  “There are worse things than drowning.” His voice was so quiet Skye wasn’t sure she’d heard right. He glanced towards Ciarlan Cove, his expression impossible to read.

  Coldness touched her like a premonition. He met her eyes again and held her gaze. “But…I won’t ever let that happen to you.” It sounded like a vow. Then he smiled, warmly as if laughter was seconds from spilling out, a beautiful smile that crinkled his eyes again, and her heart turned over.

  The moment when he’d appeared below the Pixie came back to her. There was something very different about him. Every question she thought of asking suddenly seemed loaded, almost dangerous, as if she’d be better off not knowing the answers. It made her want to know even more, but she tried to keep to strictly ordinary with her next question. “So…what else do you do? When you’re not swimming, that is.”

  He smiled, as if aware of this delicate negotiation around knowledge. “I’m never ‘not swimming’, Skye. Well, almost never.”

  Her pulse accelerated, nerves humming. “What do you do when you’re swimming?”

  “I watch for…predators.”

  This was unexpected. A dark edge hung at the periphery of the conversation before his small grin dispelled it. She returned his smile, her next question coming lightly, masking her intrigue. “You mean…like…sharks?”

  “There is more than one kind of predator, Skye,” he said quietly, “and more than one kind of prey.”

  Her stomach fluttered. The whisper of darkness she’d felt when she’d looked into his beautiful face earlier nudged her again. But still, she couldn’t shake her instinct that she was safe with him. He’d helped her from the water yesterday. And he hunted predators. So that meant he wasn’t one himself – didn’t it?

  He dropped his eyes, then looked up at her through his lashes, and she suddenly understood that this was a test of sorts. Everything he was wasn’t carte blanche for her inspection. He was seeing what she could take, holding back, revealing a bit at a time. Perhaps waiting to see if or when she would run off screaming down the rocky outcrop? Already she felt the answer to that was never.

  “You don’t give much away.” She boldly held his gaze, which narrowed appreciatively, the sunlight turning his eyes dark silver with charcoal rims.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Her heart rate kicked up a notch. “I’m not a child.”

  “I know you’re not,” his husky voice was soft, and she flushed. Almost automatically she reached for her T-shirt and tugged it on over her head. She was feeling far too much connection with this strange boy. She needed to get some distance between them, and she was rethinking the whole dummy run idea too. Distance from water was smart. It was time to obey her smart self and get back to shore.

  Pulling on her cut-offs, she stood to button them, glancing towards Ciarlan Cove – and then cried out aloud. The tide had come in while they’d talked. The entrance to the archway was partially submerged, and the gaps between the rocky ledges around the cliff-side surged with water. She was trapped.

  Frozen, she stared at the stretch of water between her and safety. The surges that had flung spray over her earlier had disappeared. Wavelets lapped teasingly at the dry rocks, its creeping playfulness insidious.

  Mesmerised, she watched the edge of water lick higher, darkening the rocks, ruffling through crevices like a taste of worse to come. She knew that within half an hour the rocks would be under water – along with her. That left only one way back to Bascath Beach: swim. Crap.

  Bascath Beach was like a distant golden instrument of torture, existing solely to emphasise how pathetic she was, and how very far from the safety of dry land. She snatched up her damp book and sandals and stuffed them into her beach bag which she looped over her head, although it ultimately wouldn’t stop them becoming submerged – along with her.

  “You’re trembling. What’s wrong?” Hunter frowned, reaching towards her as if to steady her. She couldn’t answer him. Her heart pounded, anticipating the breath being forced from her lungs by cold salt water. He glanced around at the water creeping nearer as if searching for answers. Could he not see that the tide trapped her, trapped them both?

  “Tell me. I can help you – I can protect you. What is frightening you, Skye?” His voice was urgent, compelling, and she swallowed the whimper building in her throat.

  “Remember I said sometimes I wasn’t…good with the sea – with being in it?”

  He nodded.

  “I meant I’m terrified,” her voice stifled itself into a whisper.

  “You’re terrified of being in the sea?”

  She nodded, only partially registering that he looked stricken. Breathe in, breathe out, her head spun. Perhaps Hunter had noticed the shift in her gasps. His strong hands gripped her arms, and she heard his voice as though from a distance calling her name. Focusing on his voice, for an instant she was conscious only of him – his smoky eyes with the sea-glass tints around the pupils, his long eyelashes. He was so close to her again.

  His skin was lightly tanned. His hair had dried into twists above his broad shoulders, like bleached driftwood, darker underneath as if charred on a beach fire. He was stunning, like a heartrending ocean sonnet penned in the long ago. She blinked at him, trying to remember why he was here, with her.

  “Skye? Stay with me, focus only on me.”

  Skye nodded, feeling a strange thrill at his words…stay with him?

  Oh. Right. Stay focused on him... Remembering why he would say that, she looked at the tide, closer now, threatening their feet.

  “I am a…very strong swimmer. I can take you to Bascath Beach easily and safely. But the way there is through the water.”

  Skye’s breath caught. Through the water. The image of Emma’s tiny body sinking past her returned, chilling confirmation of her nightmare-fuelled fears. But she’d changed that future for Emma, and survived the channel. More than survived. She could do this. So why couldn’t she move?

&nbs
p; “Skye, look at me.”

  She met his eyes again.

  “I can take you there easily, your head will never be submerged.” He winced as her breathing became more ragged, “Sorry.” He paused, perhaps searching for words that wouldn’t send her into a panic. “I mean, if you will let me, I will carry you safely to Bascath Beach. Will you trust me to keep you safe?” He dropped his arms and stood back, letting her decide.

  He’d been there in the channel, helping her. She studied his clear eyes. After the longest pause something settled into her soul, smooth and warm like a tide-polished, sun-warmed beach stone. Sweet, like honey, but not the dizzying sweetness of before. This was like turning into a strange and frightening path and finding sanctuary, or better.

  “Yes.” It was less than a whisper, simply her lips shaping the word, but he must have understood. His half-smile was as warm as the new strangely buoyant presence in her heart.

  “Shall we?” he nodded towards the water as though suggesting a stroll. Skye took the hand he held out. It was very cold. He began to step from the rock into the ankle-deep water covering a lower rock, gently drawing her with him.

  “Wait!” Skye clutched at him. His skin was as cold as the sea. The breeze must be chilling the droplets on his skin.

  “Trust me, Skye. I won’t let anything hurt you.” Once again, she heard the echo of solemn promise. But still she scrabbled for an excuse to delay.

  “Uh, what about my clothes? They’ll get wet.” She closed her eyes, biting her lip. Idiot, she thought, they would be completely wet whether he helped her or not.

  Trying to imply she’d meant something else she said, “I mean, I’ve got a swimsuit on underneath – I could take my clothes off if it would help you to carry me. Like, clothes make you heavy, don’t they? Make it harder to swim? Especially if you’re helping someone wearing them…” her babbling died away as something scratched gently behind her eyes, like a whisper from her nightmares. Clothes in water… What was it…?