“Didn’t your parents try to help you?”
He glared at the wall. “For the next year and a half I was dragged from one shrink to the next to talk about my ‘internal anger issues’. They pumped me with all kinds of drugs from bipolar to schizophrenic to sleeping pills. Nothing calmed the twisted, dark crap going on inside my head.”
Torture and pain reflected in his eyes while he described his past. Every moment must’ve been terrifying and depressing. “What happened?” I asked evenly as my pulse raced.
His lips curled inward in a snarl of self-disgust. “I thought I was going stark raving mad. But a suggestion one of the psychiatrists recommended stuck with me, so I began to draw what I’d sometimes seen in my mind, but most often occurred in my dreams.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “That drawing I saw of the horned demon-like creature in your notebook?”
“Is one of several hundred,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Somehow sketching them helps me deal.”
A cold trickle of unease skittered down my spine. “You’re still experiencing all of it, aren’t you?”
Ethan eyed me. “Still listening?”
I felt no threat rolling off him, despite the things he experienced. “Yes.”
He looked relieved, but still grim. “The voices were always worse at school. I blew off classes and stopped attending soccer practices and games. I lost friends, acted out, got in trouble with the police.”
“What’d your parents think?”
“They threatened to send me away if I didn’t get myself back to school, which as it turned out was a saving grace. I was miserably sitting in Science class, when the teacher started an open discussion on dreams. A few of my classmates described recurring nightmares they used to have but hadn’t in a while. Their dreams sounded so familiar, and that’s when I realized I was having their nightmares. I even recognized some of what they were describing as ‘nightmares’ to be actual facts in their real lives.”
Tension drained out of me. “That must’ve been a relief to learn that you weren’t losing your mind. Did you figure out why this was happening?”
“It took me a while to make the connection, but—” he paused and cupped his hand on my cheek. “What do you feel when I touch you?”
Soul-wrenching attraction. I put my hand over his and answered as truthfully as I dared. “Happiness. Whenever you’re near I feel so good my worries just slip away.”
Ethan didn’t smile at my comment, instead he pulled away and my heart pitched at the loss of his physical connection. “That’s what I finally figured out. It’s like I’m a walking negative energy magnet. If I brush against or touch people, I’ll soak up their bad thoughts, their horrible home life experiences, or in some cases, it’s like I become the keeper of their inner demons, at least while I’m around.”
“The keeper? So you don’t take their negative aspects away completely?”
His bangs swept past his eyes with his quick headshake. “If I’m not around them for a while, usually it takes several days in a row, their negative energy leaves me and returns to them.”
My mind warbled like an oversized bubble caught in the wind as I tried to wrap my thoughts around everything he was telling me. “What exactly do you mean by negative energy?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Standing, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He paced in front of the coffee table, his footfalls silent on the thick carpet. “It could be that the person’s father beats him, or a girl’s parents are dealing with an older sibling who’s whacked out on drugs. Or something even more personal, like the person’s suicidal thoughts. God, the list is endless.” He sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Do you have any idea how hard it is not to brush against people in school?”
“No,” I whispered, thinking it would be near impossible. Now I knew why he’d always kept to himself. “But you made friends with those guys from your last school.”
He shrugged. “When I started school in Virginia, this time I had a plan. If I hung around with the rough guys, I’d get a rep and people would stay away from me. Then, I only had a few people’s issues to deal with, not half the school population.”
He turned his gaze on me. “But when you touched me, Nara, the random stuff I used to see and hear during the day disappeared. Now the images mostly just show up in my dreams.” His expression shifted to a wry one. “At least now, the teachers don’t think I’m always high on something.”
Both times I’d seen those horrible images—he must’ve been seeing them too. “The first time you zoned and I touched you, an image flashed in front of me for a brief second, then it was gone. I thought I was going crazy.”
His eyes widened. “You saw it?”
“Yeah.”
Regret flitted across his face. “I didn’t know you were seeing them.” Spreading his hands wide, his lips tilted in a slight smile. “At least you haven’t run out the door screaming yet.”
That was one crazy confession. And I thought dreaming my next day was different. I gave a nervous laugh and ran shaky hands through my hair. Something had nagged at me since he’d revealed his secret. “So what’s wrong with me?”
His brows disappeared behind his bangs. “You’re asking a walking baggage-magnet what’s wrong with you?”
My nerves wound tighter. “I’ve always thought I was a pretty stable person, but there’s obviously something negative about me. Why else would you have taken my dreams?”
Rounding the coffee table, Ethan grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. I held my breath and waited to hear my fundamental flaw. “That’s the thing, Nara. You make my nightmares bearable.”
Clasping my shoulders in a firm grip, tension arced through him. “Through your dreams, I get to see your entire day, and as normal and as boring as you might feel they are…you are my peace, a bright light in all that darkness.”
It also means ‘a ray of light’. He’d said that he liked that meaning of my name best, and now I knew why. His words pulled at my heart. I felt oddly giddy that my dreams helped him, yet I was still confused. “But if negative energy or ‘darkness’ is what you attract and my dreams are light, why did they come to you, and why did my touching you push the images and voices you were experiencing during the day into your dreams?”
Ethan slid his hand into my hair, pushing it back from my face. “I don’t know. We have some kind of connection, Nara. Remember I said that touching someone is how I take their negative energy?”
I nodded and my body tingled in anticipation.
“From the first day I saw you—that day we almost collided when you were kicking the soccer ball in the hall—that’s the night I started seeing your dreams.”
Ethan had looked so exhausted when he first came to our school. It made sense why he’d had dark circles back then. He didn’t have any light to balance the darkness in his sleep…until we met. Was there such a thing as magnetic energy? Could two strong psychic fields bind together if they drew close enough to each other? I had almost run over him that day, less than an inch had separated our near collision. “My dreams have been flickering in and out lately,” I admitted.
Sliding his hand down my jaw and along my neck, Ethan’s fingers trembled slightly, his touch warming my skin. “You lost your dreams after my locker was moved next to yours. The day I touched you.”
“I remember. You put your hand on mine to stop my locker door from hitting me,” I whispered.
Lifting my chin, he bent close enough to kiss me. I resisted the urge to swipe my tongue across my lips to moisten them, but I couldn’t help but inhale his appealing smell as I gripped his army jacket, my fingers crushing the canvas material. My arms ached to wrap around him and pull him close, but I was afraid he’d pull back. I didn’t dare blink or move or breathe. I wanted this kiss, had fallen asleep many nights fantasizing, but no imaginings could hold a candle to the rich warmth and closeness of this unexpected reality.
Ethan’s gaze lowered to my mouth. “If you a
sk me to stop touching you so your dreams will return, I will, Nara.” His hand flexed on my neck and tension ebbed through him. “But not touching you would be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan’s lips met mine in the barest of kisses, tentative, but full of intense promise. I pressed my lips to his, hoping to show him how much I wanted this. He unclasped my fingers from his jacket, then lowered my hands to his waist. When I leaned against him, his arm folded tight around me and a shudder rippled through him. I wanted to weep for his dark loneliness. I felt it reaching, yearning for light and affection. His fingers slid through my hair as his lips moved in a gentle, encouraging sweep against mine. Tenderness and elation radiated in his touch, making me gasp and dig my fingers into his jean loops.
“Please, Nara,” he breathed against my mouth before pressing his lips against mine once more.
The building layers of Ethan’s chaotic emotions washed over me in relentless waves, rushing against my cliff face of emotions until I crumbled and pushed back. I wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but I gave into my own need to hold him close. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I slid my hands under his shirt and ran my fingers along his warm skin. The close contact felt right. I’d been kissed before by boys during movies, behind the school, at dances and parties, but none of those hasty kisses came close to Ethan’s level of intimacy. This kiss went deeper, fueling our connection, feeding a need we’d both been missing. This journey was solid and real.
His kiss made me tremble as a delicious melting unfurled inside me. I smiled against his mouth, enjoying the sensation.
Warm hands framed my face and Ethan pressed closer, as if he needed to experience every part of me. I returned his deepening kiss with fervor, my body tingling and heart pounding out of control. Pushing my fingers into his thick hair, I reveled in the soft strands sliding against my skin and pulled him as close as I could. Now that I’d let down my defenses, I never wanted to let him go.
A beeping sound echoed briefly somewhere in the house. Ethan tensed and rested his forehead against mine. “Dryer’s done.”
I bit my lower lip, thrilled by the sound of our unsteady breathing in the quiet room. I had no idea that our physical connection would have such an amazing impact on us. It was like we were meant to meet, to be together. Now that I knew how much my dreams helped Ethan, I wasn’t as worried about why they were no longer my own. At least that explained my sporadic dreams. Each time Ethan and I had been away from each other for several days, my dreams returned. I just wish I knew why he’d never shown up in my dreams.
Running my hands down his arms, I snagged our fingers together. I couldn’t imagine not touching him either. Losing my dreams was a small price to pay for this kind of happiness, for both of us. I’d miss knowing how each day would unfold—and yeah, I’ll admit to a twinge of jealousy and anxiety that he’d know what was coming when I didn’t—but whenever I was with Ethan, I felt special and now needed in his life. Just like he was in mine. That was more powerful and immediate, overshadowing everything else.
My phone started ringing, Alone Again. Frustrated, I resisted the urge to shut it off and instead pulled my cell from my jean pocket. “Hey, Mom.”
“I just wanted to let you know I’ll be home in a half hour. I’m going to pick up dinner. What would you like tonight?”
“How about Thai?”
“Sounds good. Your usual?”
“Yep, see you in a little while. Oh, and Mom?”
“Hmmm?”
“Thanks for the note.” Ethan ran his hand down my hair, his fingers curling around the ends. I caught his admiring gaze and my heart bloomed in my chest.
Mom cleared her throat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d find it, since you’re used to me texting. See you soon.”
I hung up and grimaced. “Looks like I have less time than I thought. I’d hoped Mom would work late tonight. But before I head home, we should probably check out CVU’s library database.”
Ethan pulled me close and brushed his lips across mine. “Are you sure you want to do that with the little time we have left?”
“I—”
He kissed me again and my brain shut down. I leaned against his solid frame and pressed my lips against his with a mewl of happiness, and then the dryer beeped its reminder.
We both frowned and Ethan expelled a sigh. “Might as well get the research over with. I’ve bookmarked the page on Wars. There are a ton of books.” Turning, he headed toward the hallway and waved for me to follow.
The moment I walked into Ethan’s bedroom upstairs, I greedily surveyed the space, wanting to know everything about him. Oblivious to my ogling, Ethan sat down in a swivel rolling chair in front of a wood desk. While he opened his laptop, I checked out his room.
A huge soccer ball rug took up the center of the room, and the full-sized bed, with a natural wood headboard and footboard, sat against the opposite wall. Typical guy, I thought with a small smile as my gaze snagged on the bed’s rumpled cream sheets and navy down comforter. A light brown fleece throw had fallen to the floor from the end of the bed. Lifting the throw, I’d intended to put it back on the bed, when a notebook fell out of the folds.
After I folded the cover and set it on the bed, I picked up the opened notebook and closed it without looking at the monstrous images.
When I glanced up, Ethan was watching me intently. “You should look at them,” he said quietly before he returned to his computer and began to log in.
I stared at the spiral notebook in my hand, felt the images’ weight, the mass conglomeration of other people’s problems in graphic form, tingling my palm. Taking a deep breath, I opened the notepad. “Are these your most recent drawings?”
“If you look in the upper right corner of the page, you’ll see a date.”
I flipped to the latest images in the notebook, looking for the night I’d worn the crystal. I had to know if what I’d seen that night was straight from Ethan’s nightmares.
My stomach roiled as I scanned through the familiar images: One page featured a leathery caveman-like creature with long canines, black piercing eyes and claws dripping with blood as he leaned across a gutted deer, holding a knife out to someone. Yet another showed a giant man with blackened teeth and a scarred, misshapen face beating a much smaller, younger version of himself with his oversized meaty hands. Another page with nothing but words and phrases; the bolder ones drew my eyes: She’s gone and it’s all your fault. You’re a waste of human space. You killed your mother, not the cancer. Then finally, a page featuring the wild-eyed Minotaur snorting through his curled black snout, a slimy brown blob with thick arms and razor sharp teeth, and the mash-faced Pit Bull.
Every one of Ethan’s drawings were of the same experiences I’d had. I turned the page, expecting it to be blank since that’s all I’d seen in my dreams. Instead, I saw a beautiful drawing of me sitting in my mom’s car, smiling. The sketch of Mom and me was just the soothing balm I needed to banish the horrific images from my mind. Now I understood.
Closing the notebook, I walked over to his side. “That was a great trip with my mom,” I said as I set the notebook on the desk. “You captured my feelings well.”
“I could tell you were happy.”
Running my finger down the spiral ring, I wondered how Ethan kept it together. I was nearly out of my mind when I woke up Saturday morning after an entire night of those awful nightmares. “The other night when I wore the crystal necklace, I had the most terrifying nightmares.”
Ethan glanced my way. “I remember when you woke up you ran to the bathroom to throw up. They were that bad, huh—” He paused and then stared at my hand on the notebook. “Your nightmares…were they anything like my drawings?”
I dug my fingertip deep between the metal spiral. “They were your drawings.”
He gripped my hand, pulling it away from the notebook. “I’m sorry, Nara. I only saw that you were upset by your dreams. I didn’t know you’d see
n my dreams, but I guess now you understand.”
Nodding, I brushed his bangs out of his eyes and trailed my fingertips down his cheek. “How do you dream about such gruesome creatures, experience all those dark emotions and wake up unaffected by it? How do you not carry that around with you?”
Ethan clasped my hand and slid his fingers between mine. “I didn’t handle it in the past the way I do today. Even now, sometimes I feel very old.”
“What happened in the past?” I hoped he’d tell me. Ethan lowered his gaze and shook his head. I knew there was more, but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to talk about it.
“With Samson’s support.” He lifted his eyes and I saw a painful memory slowly fading. “Believing in me, even when he didn’t truly understand what I was going through every night—it helped me keep my mind open to possibilities.” Rubbing his forearm, he continued, “Over time, I found ways to help myself.”
Tugging on my hand, Ethan quickly wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. “Enough about me. I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
He shook his head, bemused. “Why Latin? I’ve watched you translate stories and fables, articles, even the Catholic Mass you’d printed from the web, but I couldn’t figure out the connection any of them have or why you’re so fascinated.”
I shrugged. “I’m just weird like that.”
Ethan eyed me.
“Okay, fine. I chose Latin because even if I dream myself translating it, it won’t be so easy for me to remember all the details, since Latin’s not an easy language. In other words, I’ll have to do some work, which means I get to enjoy the process of translating all over again.”
Sympathy reflected in his gaze. “I enjoyed watching you so much, I hadn’t thought about what it must be like for you to experience every single detail twice.”
Brightest Kind of Darkness Page 14
