Emerald

by Rebekah Thompson

  I smile against his lips and circle my arms around his neck, forgetting about what we were talking about. I let the kiss sweep me away to the beginning of our new life. I wouldn’t want it with anyone else and I’ll never give it up.

  Panting, I pull away, whispering, “I love you too, and I always will.”

  At First sight

  Here's a short story of how Dominic's parents, King and Queen, met. I hope you enjoy!

  “GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK!” He screams, pushing me back. I stumble down the steps, my legs giving out, and my hands scrape the ground. Fresh blood seeps from the cuts as I push myself up, whimpering in pain from recent wounds and, now, fresh ones.

  Rushing back up the steps, I try to turn the doorknob. I turn it, push it, and pull it, but nothing happens. It’s locked.

  “Why?” I murmur, sniffling. I push myself to my feet. The wind swirls past me, sending a shiver through me. I pull on the short sleeves of my shirt and curse myself for not wearing warmer clothes. It is January, after all.

  Glancing back at the front door of my house, I take a deep breath, turn, and walk away. I should have walked away long before this. They never treated me well, but they provided a roof over my head and sometimes fed me. I only wish I could’ve grabbed my things.

  Another gust of wind hits me, making me shiver even more. I wrap my arms around myself to try to fight off the cold, but it doesn’t help much. The road turns, so I continue walking into town. I pass by a couple shops, wondering if I could stop and go in, but I remember that in most places you must be a paying customer to stay inside.

  By the time I pass the fifth shop, the sky is dark, and thunder booms above me. A raindrop hits my cheek, then another hits my nose, then my forehead, and then my eye.

  I quicken my pace, almost running, to get out of the now pouring rain. I dart past a mechanic shop, up the street, and duck under the awning of the local hotel.

  If only one thing would go right today, I would know I’ll be okay.

  “Hey, you can’t loiter here,” a man calls out, making me look up. He shoos me away, into the rain. I trip over the curb, falling into the accumulating water. The water soaks through my already wet clothes, making me cry out from the cold.

  Shivers and sobs wrack my body as I push out of the puddle. Why is this happening?

  ~*~

  She catches my eye, her long, dark hair falling down her back like waves. I watch as she scurries past the shop; her features worn and tired, but there’s something else. I notice bruises and cuts on her arms that aren’t covered by anything but what looks like a thin short-sleeve shirt.

  “See ya later, guys!” I call out, waving to the guys in the garage. I climb on my bike and crank it up, but by the time I pull onto the street, she’s gone. I pull out and drive the way I saw her walking.

  Rain pounds on my shoulders, making my hair fall in my face. I push it back as I turn the corner. There!

  The girl climbs off the ground, out of a puddle, and shakily walks in the direction away from me. I slow my bike to a crawl and pull up beside her. When she doesn’t look up, I call out to her, making her jump.

  Her dark eyes find mine as she takes a few steps back.

  Raking my hand through my floppy, wet hair, I smile at her. “Hey, do you need a ride somewhere?” I reach out my hand to her and give her my most comforting smile. She clearly needs help, and there’s something about her. Something vulnerable, but there’s a strength underneath it… way deep down. She just needs someone to help her free it.

  The rain continues to fall around us as she stares at me, her eyes flickering from my eyes to my hand.

  “I- um…” She stutters, reaching her hand out, but she falters.

  “My name is Holden, but my friends call me King,” I tell her. She continues to stare, her hand still outstretched like she’s going to take mine.

  “I-I’m Maya,” she says, her hand finally touching mine. Gripping her hand softly, I pull her closer.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Maya, but what do you say we get outta this rain? Hmm?”

  She nods, her hand tightening on mine. I pull off my leather jacket and wrap it around her, letting her push her arms into it. Carefully, so she doesn’t slip, I help her climb on my bike, and wrap her arms around my waist.

  “Where do you live?” I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder. Her lip trembles and tears swim in her eyes, telling me what she can’t. She doesn’t have anywhere to go. “It’s okay,” I murmur, squeezing her hands that are wrapped around my waist. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

  With that said, and not waiting for her answer, I pull out into the street and head for my house.

  ~*~

  Holden’s jacket provides warmth that I haven’t felt in a while. I’m cold from the rain, but the warmth that Holden provides is more emotional. He gives off a caring, thoughtful warmth from the way he stopped to help me and gave me his jacket. It’s one reason I got on the motorcycle.

  “We’re here!” Holden calls. I lift my head at the sound of his deep voice. We’re in front of a small, one-story house that looks lived in. The grass is a little too long from not being mowed in the winter and the porch has one of those wood swings that you see in movies or read about in books.

  It looks cozy.

  “Up you come.” Holden, already on his feet, grabs my waist and lifts me up. I grip his muscled forearms as he sets me down, and honestly, I’m surprised. Not scared. Ever since my sister died, I’ve had this constant fear curling in my gut when people touch me, but not when Holden touches me.

  “Let’s get you inside and dry,” he says, wrapping one arm around my waist, guiding me inside, and closing the garage behind us. I lean into him as he leads me down a hallway and into a bedroom. My stomach flips at the sight of his room. It’s a standard size with plenty of maleness in the room.

  His walls are a plain white color, his floor is wood, his bed has black colors with the Harley Davidson logo on it which matches a rug at the end of his bed. The dresser and bedside table are a dark brown that match the floor. It’s all male.

  Holden shuffles, rubbing the back of his neck, “You can shower here. I have some sweats and a shirt you can wear.” He points toward the bathroom and gives me a gentle push. I turn and look at him, and I mean really look at him.

  He’s tall, much taller than me, at least six foot tall. His dark brown hair is long enough on the top to fall across his forehead. He’s muscular, like someone who spends plenty of time in the gym. Without his leather jacket, I can see his shirt sticking to his muscular torso and his jeans clinging to his long, strong thighs.

  He’s gorgeous.

  I swallow the heat that builds and turn away quickly. “Thank you,” I whisper, rushing into the bathroom. I lock the door before moving to the shower, stripping, and jumping in. The water immediately warms me up, and I sigh. There’s nothing better, when you’re cold, than a warm shower.

  The only soap in here is Holden’s spicy man soap, so I use it and quickly finish showering. When I get out, I spot a pile of clothes on the counter. The clothes weren’t there before, so Holden must’ve brought them in. The thought makes me blush.

  I dry off quickly and pull Holden’s sweatpants and shirt on. A woodsy scent mixed with the spicy scent of Holden’s soap surrounds me, comforting me the way I didn’t know anyone could. For the past two years, my parents haven’t shown me anything but hate and contempt. Before that, before my sister died, we were a normal family- a happy family.

  A knock at the door makes me jump and pulls me from my thoughts. “Maya, are you okay?”

  Instead of answering, I open the door. Holden is so close that I almost run into him. “Oh, hi… I’m, um…"

  My mind jumps back to my father and his fists raining down on me the other day because I ate a granola bar. Then my mind flashes to earlier when he threw me out today. I just needed five more months, then I’d be able to move out.

  “I- I saw you staring at my bruises earl
ier,” I say, looking up at him. He slowly nods, and I take a deep breath. “My father did this,” I tell him, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. “My sister died, and he flipped, got angry at everyone and everything. He’s taken out his anger on me ever since.” I look away as shame jumps around my stomach like it’s on a trampoline.

  “Hey, hey,” Holden breathes, his hand brushes my cheek, moves down to my chin, and then lifts it, making me look in his eyes. “You’re safe here.” I stare into his deep brown, chocolatey eyes and see nothing but concern and safety.

  Leaning in, I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head on his chest. The steady beating of his heart sounds against my ear, making me close my eyes.

  “Thank you, Holden."

  "You're welcome. You can stay here as long as you need or want to,” he says softly, wrapping his arms around me. For the first time in two years, I let someone hold me. The usual fear and skittish feelings I get around people just don’t come up when Holden is close, and for whatever reason, I’m glad.

  “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  I look up at Holden and study him. He doesn’t look like someone who would just sit down and watch a movie. He looks like someone who would rather be up and about, working and using his hands. Instead, he’s taking the time to sit with me and comfort me.

  “Um, sure,” I mutter. He takes my hand and leads me down the hall to a living room. He sits me on the worn, comfy leather couch, then sits next to me, leaving just enough space to keep me comfortable, but makes sure I’m close enough to touch.

  As I lean into the couch, Holden drapes a black blanket over me and begins flipping through channels. He flips and flips and flips until stopping on a movie with fast cars and lots of explosions.

  ~*~

  As Dom and Bryan race on screen, Maya fades. Her eyes fall closed and her head lands on my shoulder. When she doesn’t move for a few minutes, I shift in my seat, work my arms under her legs and back, and stand, lifting her in my arms.

  “Holden,” she whispers, snuggling close and gripping my shirt. I make my way to my room, and carefully, I shift her to one arm and pull the covers on my bed back. She grumbles a bit as I lay her down but turns over to hug my pillow once she’s down.

  “Sleep well, my Queen,” I whisper, pulling the covers over her and brushing my fingers over her cheek. I step back, but Maya’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

  “Don’t leave, please.”

  I stare down at her for a second before kicking off my boots and climbing in the bed. As soon as I lay down, Maya turns over and curls into me. I wait until she’s settled to wrap my arms around her.

  “Holden,” she whispers.

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you call me Queen?” She asks. I look down to find her staring up at me with sleepy, droopy eyes.

  “I did,” I admit. She hums and lays her head back down on my chest.

  “Holden?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I like you,” she yawns. “You make me feel safe.”

  Smiling, I press a kiss to Maya’s forehead, “You are safe with me. Always.”

  Acknowledgement

  I want to thank my readers for encouraging me to continue writing with your kind words. My friends and family have been very supportive and patient with me, and I am forever greatful. They are a neverending source of encouragment, giving me what I needed when I started doubting myself.

  There's nothing more important when reaching for your dream than having people to support you. That's you guys!

  Next, I want to thank those who helped me edit my book and let me hash out my ideas with them, especially you Autumn! Thanks for talking out characters and listening when I rambled on and on about my stories. Without you, I'm sure my brain would've fallen out long ago. You're a life saver!

  Lastly, I want to thank YOU for buying and reading Emerald. Your support of my dream is greatly appreciated.

  About The Author

  Rebekah L. Thompson

  Rebekah is an English teacher with a passion for writing. She grew up in Mississippi with her family as a creative inspiration. For most of her life, she had thoughts of writing passing through her mind; ideas, creations, and characters swirling around day in and day out. She started her writing in high school, and with the support and encouragement from family and friends, she pursues her writing career.

  When she's not writing, Rebekah is teaching or spending time with her family. Rebekah lives in Mississippi and loves writing stories filled with action, romance, and themes from life.

  Question and Answers:

  When did you first realize you wanted to write?

  Answer: When I was little, I would think up stories and write them down, but I didn't know I really liked writing until high school. I realized that writing was one of my hobbies when I had a creative writing assignment in one of my high school English classes. I had to write a short story for my class that had to be more than five pages but less than ten. I wrote a twist on a fairytale, and then my mind shot off in all different directions with different ideas for books.

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  What is your writing process like?

  Answer: Most of my books that I've written came from a single thought. It might have been a thought because of a song lyric, a quote, something one of my friends said, or even a situation I've seen or heard about in real life. From there, characters would pop into my head, and I always have to write them down before I forget them. After that, I move onto the story line and into writing.

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  Do you have an interesting writing quirk?

  Answer: My books aren't all in the same genre. Some of my books I haven't published are in Young Adult or Paranormal Romance/Action. I think that's a quirk, but also, I like to write in first person, and growing up, my books were never in first person, so I think that's a little bit of a quirk.

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  What do you do for fun besides writing?

  Answer: I like to sing, draw, collect Disney pins, and spend time with my family. Most things I do are creative, which helps me with my writing.

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  What kind of impact do you want your books to have on others?

  Answer: Out of the Black Hawk Gem series, I want people's eyes to open to some of the less appealing things in life. I hope that people will realize that not everything with everyone is good, and that no matter how they look on the outside, there could still be pain there. However, I also want them to see that there can be good that comes through storms.

  Thank you for reading!