Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3)

by James, Kimberly

  “Of course you will.” His face broke in that almost smile, the one that came more from his eyes than the shape of his mouth. “Your friend’s back.”

  I dropped my hand. Luna floated lazily across the surface of the lake, her long tail swirling behind her. I jumped to my feet.

  “Where have you been girl?” The sight of her lopsided face eased the strain of my twisted feelings and as crazy as it sounded, I found comfort in her brown eyes.

  “What is that?” Michael rose slowly to his feet beside me, his fingers curling around my elbow.

  My eyes followed the path of his to the middle of the lake, widening when I saw the brown, scaly tip of a snout and two protruding, glassy eyes cutting through the water. As soon as my mind formed the word alligator, it sank under the surface, leaving nothing behind but my quickening pulse.

  “I’ve never seen an alligator in the lake before.” My gaze zeroed in on Luna and the slow, lazy circles she made. Totally oblivious. I picked up a piece of broken shell and hurled it in an attempt to scare her into action. The shell plopped in the water a foot away from her, but Luna only blinked at me, wide-eyed and trusting, blissfully unaware of the danger. I jumped up and down, feet pounding on the dock. Luna—bless her brave heart—wasn’t scared of me anymore. Michael’s attempts to frighten her proved as useless as mine.

  “We have to do something.” I perched on the end of the dock prepared to jump in after her.

  Michael’s arm hooked around my waist. “You’re not going in there.”

  He jerked me away from the edge of the dock with enough force we stumbled back, gracelessly falling on the slats of wood with me between his legs. His arm stayed firmly ensconced around my waist.

  Coppery water erupted with a pair of gaping jaws and deadly teeth. Luna’s name screeched from my throat, and I resisted the urge to clamp my eyes shut. I waited for the jaws to snap closed, but they didn’t. The alligator seemed to freeze mid-strike and then it was moving backward. Something was dragging it away from Luna, away from the dock. The gator thrashed against whatever held it and then it disappeared altogether, leaving behind a coppery frothy boil.

  “What happened? Where is she?” I pried at Michael’s vice-like fingers.

  “I’m not letting go until you promise you’re not jumping in there with that thing. Where did it go?”

  “I don’t know,” I said impatiently. “Do you see her?”

  “Look.” Michael pointed to the opposite side of the lake. I felt the liquid relief in my arms and legs as I watched Luna’s head cutting through the water on her way to safety. She scuttled up the sloped bank and lost herself in the underbrush.

  “Oh, thank God.” I fell back into Michael’s chest, hand held over my thundering heart. My relief was short lived. The water still moved, a gurgling current of shadows and foam as it churned from underneath like the bubbling of an underground spring.

  “What is that?”

  As if in response to Michael’s question, the surface imploded in a tangled mass of writhing bodies. I gasped. Jamie clutched the gator’s snout in a merciless grip.

  “Jamie,” I yelled, my heart in my throat, though it was obvious he was in no danger. The alligator writhed like a worm on a hook, struggling to break free, powerless under the strength of Jamie’s hands. The gators tail dozed into the pilings of the dock.

  “Get back,” Jamie yelled and his eyes flashed in warning. The gator had to have been ten, maybe twelve feet long, but Jamie held it as though it were nothing more than a tiny lizard. A crack rent the air and for a stupefied second I thought a tree was falling until I realized it was the sound of bones breaking. The rip of tearing flesh crawled over my skin. This time I did clamp my eyes shut. Too late. Jamie grunted his triumph as he ripped the alligator in two as easily as shredding a piece of paper. Loud silence followed, broken only by the far away coo of a dove.

  “Shit,” Michael whispered over my head.

  I swallowed. The water slowly calmed to a swirl. Jamie threw the mutilated carcass across the lake like two pieces of kindling. They landed with a decided “plop” thirty yards away. Then Jamie propelled himself onto the dock, the wood quaking under the impact.

  He towered on the end of the dock. Thick chest heaving, a ferocious glint in his eyes under the slash of blue. A warrior out of time, too savage for this contemporary world. His gaze dropped to where Michael’s hand still held mine. I tugged my hand free, clenching my fingers. He took one menacing step toward us.

  “Jamie, don’t,” I warned, fearing a repeat of that night on the beach. I should have sent Michael away. My past and my almost future were not going to play well together, no matter that I hoped they would.

  Michael stepped around me and put himself between us—a bold move considering what he'd endured at Jamie's hands.

  “It’s okay, Michael.” I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “I don’t think so.” His eyes, when they flicked at me, were doubtful, fearful, but still he was ready to stand up for me. Stand between me and my husband.

  Jamie chuckled, the sound like tiny pebbles falling into the water, so at odds with the grisly scene of seconds before. “You think Erin needs protecting from me?”

  “Until I hear her say otherwise, yes.” Michael seemed to grow a couple of inches as he stared at Jamie, unflinching in his focused attention. I thought I saw a hint of begrudging admiration in Jamie’s eyes. It was fleeting.

  “She doesn’t. You can go now,” Jamie said dismissively, as if shooing off a pesky yellow fly.

  Michael didn’t move other than shifting his eyes. They brimmed with an unspoken question and something else I couldn’t name. Condemnation? Disbelief?

  “I don’t want to leave you with him,” he said, his voice pitched low but not so low Jamie didn’t hear him. Jamie muttered something under his breath I didn’t quite catch.

  “I’ll be okay. You should go,” I said.

  Michael gathered his keys from the bench then gave Jamie one last lingering look before making his way back to his car. The air hummed with energy and a new wind caught in my hair, chasing Michael up the boardwalk, ushering him on his way.

  “Sorry,” Jamie said when I turned imploring eyes on him, not at all sounding like he meant it. With one blink the air was still again.

  He raked his fin-like hands over his cropped hair then turned away from me, arms raised, exposing his back. It expanded with every breath in a demonstrative fight for control—this warrior who slay alligators on my behalf and commanded wind from the still air. I wondered what else he could do. I felt so small and insignificant next to him. But then I always had. It hadn’t bothered me before. The sixteen-year-old girl I had been relished in it. I was yet to determine why the magnitude of him bothered me now.

  “I think you’d like him,” I said. Which was ridiculous, mostly wishful thinking on my part.

  “I’m pretty sure I fucking hate him.”

  “Don’t be like that,” I said.

  It was like everything that made him Jamie had been magnified ten times. To my shame, I wished he would go back to being the lost Jamie from the Facility. The confused Jamie. The one trapped in a cage. I was that Jamie’s anchor. This Jamie didn’t need me. He was too strong, too sure of himself. He was too much, and I wanted to lose myself in him all over again. But I’d done that once before, and when the unthinkable happened, it had been like picking through the debris of a hurricane to find myself again.

  “Like what? I’m not gonna buddy-slap the tadpole on the back and tell him it’s all right he's got the hots for my wife.” His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles of his arms straining.

  I really hated myself because even though I knew he would never hurt me, knew it to the bottom of my soul, there was a part of me that was afraid of him now in a way I’d never been before. I thought he smelled my fear, the slight wariness, thought he saw it in my face.

  “Shit, Erin.” Once again the air stirred and everything responded. Leaves tin
gled on the trees and scattered over the ground. Small waves formed over the surface of the lake.

  “Don’t be angry.” I sat down on the bench, never taking my eyes from him, and I watched as he pulled himself under control. For me. Because he was still so afraid of scaring me.

  “You know I would do anything for you. Defend you against anyone or anything," he said, his face in profile.

  “I know, but was that really necessary? I’m getting tired of having to convince people you won’t hurt me. That you’re not dangerous.”

  “Trust me. It was necessary. That handbag out there really wanted to eat your friend. And as for the human, well…” He shrugged those massive shoulders.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to rip the thing in two.”

  “Yes, I did.” Water dripped off the ends of his hair and slid over the tense line of his jaw and down the thick column of his throat. “I didn’t used to feel this need to prove myself to you.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  “That might have been true before.” His eyes roamed my face, a sadness in the green depths. “Things are simple in the Deep. Survival is all that matters. Here, in this world, I don’t have a place if it’s not with you.”

  And that basically summed up how I’d felt for the last eighteen months. And then I'd found my place again only to have it snatched away with Jamie's reappearance, and the realization that some part of me was angry made me feel horrible and petty and selfish.

  “But it’s the same world. Nothing’s changed.” We both recognized the lie. Everything had changed. Maybe too much had changed for us to simply pick up where we were before.

  “A lot’s changed. I’ve changed.” He held up his hands as evidence. His body was all hard planes, his features like carved stone. But his eyes were the windows into his shifting emotions. They threatened to carry me away in the tenderness I saw in them.

  He bent over, fixing his hands on either side of my legs, and even though he wasn’t touching me, it felt like he was, the heat of him reaching out to me. His face was so close his breath warmed my cheek. The rich scent of the Deep covered his skin, his gaze so penetrating it was soul baring, exposing all those broken pieces I’d yet to put back together. My eyes begged him not to look too close.

  “Tell me what to do. How can I make this right between us?” His voice quaked. The fact that he was here, crouched in front of me as if I were his whole world—the beast begging, the beast pleading—humbled me to the point I couldn’t contain it anymore.

  “You can’t make it right because it’s not right,” I said, my voice no more than a whisper.

  It wasn’t right the way he made everything else disappear as if nothing else mattered.

  “Can you sit there and look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me?” he challenged.

  He was too close. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

  “I do love you,” I said, but the words come out angry and biting. Accusatory. My hands cradled my head as if I could keep the haunting thoughts from escaping my lips. They escaped anyway, the harsh confession tearing out of my mouth. “So much that I killed her.”

  He started, his dark brows descending. “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “Lyla. It’s my fault. I killed her.” My hands slid to my face, covering it from his piercing gaze. I couldn’t look at him, not now that he knew.

  He inched closer to me. The cocoon of his presence wrapped around me. His fingers curled around my wrists and his webs enveloped me in warmth and gentleness. He slowly guided my hands back to my lap. I opened my eyes and stared at our linked hands, mine so small and fragile in his. He had strong hands. Beautiful, monstrous hands. The sight of them brought tears to my eyes.

  “Erin, look at me.”

  I’d spent so many sleepless nights craving the sound of his voice. I’d dreamt about it, heard it when I was awake, tricking me into believing he was still there. And now that the dream was reality, I hesitated. I slowly lifted my chin, blinking my eyes clear. “What happened with our baby wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “It was my fault. When they told me you were dead, I wanted to die too. For weeks I prayed I would. I even tried to—” I shook my head and attempted to wrestle my hands from his. He wouldn’t let me. “Even with her growing inside me, part of you growing inside me, I gave up."

  “It’s not your fault.” His hand rose to cup my jaw as though bearing the weight of my confession.

  “I didn’t want her enough. She had to have known that I didn’t love her enough to want to be alive without you. Maybe she gave up too.” Tears I thought long spent streamed their way down my cheeks, falling on Jamie’s fingers. I wanted him to be repulsed. It was what I deserved for letting our baby die. I didn’t deserve the gentleness of his hands or the warmth of his lips on my cheeks as he kissed away my tears.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.

  “Quit, Jamie. Quit trying to make me feel better.”

  “What happened was an accident. What happened to me. Our baby. You are in no way at fault.”

  “Was it an accident? Did we do something wrong? Did I love you too much? Was it her?” I gave some wild wave of my arm. “Do you prefer to be out there in the Deep?” I spoke the word like a curse, my jealousy leaking out of me. “She stole you from me and you stayed with her. What took you so long Jamie? What took you so long to come back? If you’d come back, maybe I wouldn’t have lost her.”

  And there it was laid out between us—the thing that had been festering in an unnamed place deep inside me since the first time I heard Noah call Jamie on the beach and I realized he wasn’t dead. I could finally unburden myself and place the blame on him. It had to go somewhere. I was tired, so tired of carrying it, but still not ready to let it go completely. I needed to keep it close. It was all I had left of her.

  “You want to blame me? Fine. I’ll shoulder the blame and anything else you want to lay on me. I’ll do my penance, Erin, just let me back in. I won’t let you believe you gave up. Look at you. You are so much stronger now. I know you can’t see it, but I can. Every time I look at you, I see it.”

  How could such a sweet, gentle voice come from such a mountain? My mountain, solid and fortifying.

  “I was selfish. All I could think about was that I couldn’t live without you.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to.” That mountain lifted me off the bench and set me atop it where nothing could hurt me, not even myself. He stroked my hair, pressing his mouth to the top of my head. We sat that way for a long time, until the sun started to fall in the evening sky, painting it a dusky orange.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could take all this back. I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I was the selfish one. I wanted you and I took you, and when you got pregnant, I was so relieved, because I knew then you were mine. I knew you’d never leave me.”

  In that, he was right. That girl would never have left him. That girl had thought she was a woman. Jamie had done that, made me a woman, or at least made me believe I was ready to be one when nothing was further from the truth. I might not be a girl anymore, but I wasn’t a woman either.

  My head rested on his chest where underneath the sure beat of his heart thudded in my ear. I placed my hand there, listening and feeling his aliveness. Thankful and at the same time so unsure. A year ago, I'd been too afraid to live without him. Today, I was too afraid to live with him. The thought twisted my already mangled heart. And because I didn’t have the courage yet to tell him, I let him hold me, relishing his touch, the sound of his voice in my ear, the steady beat of his heart.

  “When did you start coming here?” he asked long minutes later.

  Since I couldn’t stand to be at the beach anymore because all I would do was search the water, wishing, willing Jamie to emerge from the surf and kiss me again.

  “I don’t know. A few months ago. It’s sort of mine and Luna’s place.”

  “It�
�s a good place.”

  And now it was Jamie’s place too, and I wondered if there were anywhere I could go that Jamie wouldn’t forever dominate me.

  I needed to find that place.

  28

  Me: can we talk

  I sent Michael the text the next day after dinner. It was the first time since we’d started exchanging texts that it took him hours to respond.

  Michael: sure. when?

  Me: tomorrow?

  Michael: I have practice til 5.

  Me: 5:30?

  Michael: our place?

  Me: Sharky's?

  Michael: ok

  I arrived at Sharky's early and stood on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. The sun was warm but the breeze was cool, as if the day couldn't decide between summer or fall and decided on both.

  Sharky's catered to the mostly tourist crowd, and while I would have preferred to talk to Michael at the park on the bench, I needed somewhere more public. Somewhere Jamie wouldn't dare come. Somewhere Jamie couldn't come, not without causing a scene.

  I'd thought about calling Ally and Caris. In a way, talking with them made more sense. They knew me better than Michael, but I wasn't sure either of them had the ability to give me an unbiased opinion on my wavering thoughts and feelings where Jamie was concerned. Ally had never been a fan of Jamie and it would be foolish for me to ignore the slight prejudice she exhibited on occasion. She was too influenced by other people's perceptions and that clouded her judgment sometimes. And Caris, well, she was clearly in Noah's camp, and Noah was clearly in Jamie's camp.

  So good or bad, or right or wrong, I'd texted Michael.

  I took a table farthest from the window where I couldn't see the gleam of the water and ordered a glass of sweet tea. Michael walked in at 5:25. He looked so cute and normal in his t-shirt and jeans with his slightly damp hair curling at the ends. The perfect boyfriend for somebody, just not me.

  He scooted into the booth across from me. Neither of us offered a greeting except for a collision of the eyes that lasted endless beats of time.