Falling Through Darkness Read online

  He looks like a born-again Viking.

  Knowing he caught me staring, or salivating, I can feel my cheeks heat. What the fuck, I don’t get embarrassed. I am who I am, I feel what I feel, I do what I do. Most days I do not care what people think of me anymore.

  A life lesson I’ve had to learn the hard way.

  I clear my throat, but still I stutter, “Uh, nothing. I… sorry…” I cringe internally. I pluck my soaked tank away from my chest, which draws his eyes down to my breasts.

  Is that heat entering his eyes?

  Immediately, I let go of the fabric and it snaps back to mold to my curves. Yeah, that didn’t help.

  Even more embarrassed now, I turn away from this gorgeous man I hope to never see again. I don’t know how to deal with this instant attraction I feel toward him. “Well, thanks for the concern. I might be wet, but I’m fine,” I say, causing him to burst out laughing.

  I’m confused for a second, not realizing what I said until it dawns on me.

  I can feel his eyes on me. When I look up, his gaze is fixed on my chest and the drenched shirt that’s outlining every dip and valley. The fire in his eyes betrays just what he’s thinking about.

  “That you are,” he says seductively before licking his bottom lip slowly. “I can help with that.”

  My body breaks out in goose bumps while a shiver runs down my spine. I can’t help my body’s reaction to this guy. The promise to make me forget for a few minutes has me sway toward him before I can stop myself.

  He steps closer and is just about to touch me when I snap myself out of the sexual spell he put me under. He hasn’t even bothered to ask for my freaking name before he’s blatantly trying to make a move. Disappointment courses through me when I realize he probably does this all the time—hit on some nameless woman in order to scratch an itch, without giving a shit about her.

  But why do I even care?

  I never used to be averse to participate in an anonymous quickie to get off and have some fun, not that I’ve done so in a very long time, but I try not to judge. Yet, for some reason, knowing that’s all he wants from me bothers me. Irrational, I know, but I can’t help the disappointment that courses through me.

  “Jesus,” I say and step back, trying to put some distance between us. My body is feeling things I thought it would be unable to feel ever again, and that probably shocks me more than anything else.

  The smirk stretching his lips when he manages to tear his eyes from my breasts is downright predatory. But instead of apologizing, he just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

  On a huff, I turn to walk down the hall. I’m tempted to flip him off, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of showing him he’s gotten to me. Walking away is all I can do while my body is humming with sexual tension. I can’t believe a stranger, someone I’ve known for all of five minutes, turned me on so much my panties are soaked through. And he didn’t even touch me.

  Without looking back, I leave the house and stalk toward my car. I do not look back until I’m sitting behind the wheel. I don’t know what I expected. Seriously. It’s pathetic, but a tiny part of me was hoping he’d follow me, stop me in my escape, and apologize for treating me like a piece of meat. Instead I’m staring at an empty porch and firmly locked door.

  But I learned a long time ago that’s all I’m worth to men—an instrument they use and abuse in order to get what they want.

  You’d think I know better by now. Guess I’ll never learn.

  I start my car and drive down the street, having this odd feeling like I’ve just left something important behind. Shaking it off, I concentrate on not wrecking my car. I’m still soaked from whatever drink Mr. Hottie was holding and the air-conditioning causes me to shiver. Instead of turning it off though, I turn it up, relishing in the cold air cooling off my overheated body. Bloody hell, but the guy, despite being a jerk, was hot as fuck.

  Let’s hope I never see him again.

  Arriving at my new apartment ten minutes later, I let myself inside when my phone rings. I look at the display to see Luna calling me.

  Damn, I forgot to let them know I left early.

  Instead of picking up—I can’t deal with her prying questions right now—I decline the call and text her I am not feeling well and went home. Using the excuse that I must have gotten too much sun to explain my escape.

  Even though it’s only seven, I take a quick shower before slipping into my bed. Between the episode in the bathroom and the one with the hottie, I am exhausted.

  Yet, despite my fatigue, I keep twisting and turning.

  Visions of his body over mine are assaulting my mind. His strong, tattooed arms holding his body up while he’s thrusting into me repeatedly. Quite literally pounding me into the bed before he bends down sucking my nipple in this mouth.

  Images of him giving my breast one last lick before kissing his way up my chest and neck are flitting across my closed eyes. That’s when I hear his voice whispering filthy words into my ear in his deep and sexy timbre.

  Suddenly, I cry out, an orgasm the likes I’ve never experienced before crashing over me. I hadn’t even noticed I had my hands in my panties, rubbing my clit, getting myself off to the image of the sexiest man I’ve ever seen fucking me.

  Panting, I picture his eyes smiling down at me, satisfied with making me come spectacularly.

  Once my heartbeat and breathing are back to normal, I push those images to the back of my mind, turn to my side, and will myself to fall asleep.

  I guess the orgasm ultimately tired me out enough to give into exhaustion. I fall into a deep sleep, and for the second night in a row, my dreams aren’t filled with nightmares. This time they’re filled with blue eyes smiling down at me while tattooed arms snake around my body, holding me tight, secure, safe.

  Too bad it isn’t real, and he’s a jerk in reality.

  ***

  Monday night, I’m sitting in the armchair staring out the window. The night sky is bright and filled with stars. I wonder at its vastness. Surrounded by darkness, the stars still manage to shine brightly, pushing back the void trying to consume them. They keep fighting night after night, year after year.

  How do they keep going? How is the darkness not swallowing them whole? It seems an impossible feat that something so tiny, delicate, embodies such strength. In such is an age-old tale of light versus dark, good versus evil, does the darkness ever seem too overwhelming? Do they ever wonder if they’ll be extinguished? Or do they just have faith and believe?

  Sighing, I think back on the last two days, which have been filled with a trip to Target, grocery shopping, unpacking the rest of my things, and spending time with Tom and Luna.

  I spent all of Sunday with Luna and Tom. After breakfast, and me dodging Luna inquiring about the day before, I went shopping at Target where I reacquainted myself with the wonders of the shopping mecca until Tom stepped in and moved us along. We stocked up on groceries and all the necessities you need when moving into a new place. It’s already five o’clock by the time we’re done with our last stop at the liquor store—wine is not something that can be missing in my house.

  But all day, I couldn’t get my thoughts to do what I wanted them to—stop with the visions of Mr. Hottie half-naked, trying to figure whether or not the tattoos go any farther than just his arms. Like all the way down his chest, maybe.

  Ugh, why couldn’t I stop fantasizing about the jerk?

  Once we were home, Luna and I collapsed on the couch exhausted from the day. And the rest of the evening was spent with wine, food, and amazing company. It was good to spend some time with these two, I’ve missed them these last three years.

  By the time midnight came around, I was falling asleep on the couch. While I might have gone to bed early the night before, my dreams sure didn’t give me a restful night. Luna and Tom said their goodbye, seeing how tired I was with a promise to stop by once more around noon the next day before they have to leave to catch their plane.

  Unlike
the night before, I’m successful at pushing the encounter with Mr. Hottie from my mind, and I fall asleep rather quickly. The only thing keeping me company this time around wasn’t strong tattooed arms though, but the devil of my past.

  Today passed in a blur. I woke up to the sun streaming into my new bedroom through the curtains. Having had my usual night of restless sleep peppered with nightmares, I wake tired and cranky—worse than the day before. I’d take a hot interlude with the hot stranger any night over the recurring nightmares that just won’t leave me.

  Shortly after noon, Luna and Tom showed up as promised on their way to the airport. Saying goodbye is never easy, and I loved spending time with them again. It showed me how much I missed having them around. And I’ll keep missing them, but they have their lives in Chicago to get back to, and I have a life to start here.

  A life without being reminded of the past around every turn, I hope. A life where I can find contentment and peace.

  The rest of the day was spent unpacking my clothes and putting away all the little knickknacks Luna and I bought at Target the day before.

  So now, here I sit, staring out at the night sky, pondering my life—a life that’s scuffed and full of scratches, but is mine, even though I sometimes wonder where I have gone wrong to deserve some of it. Ultimately, I have no one to blame but myself for my family being gone. It’s my fault, and I need to learn how to live with it.

  Sighing, I get up from the armchair I’ve been sitting on for the last couple hours. Tomorrow is my first day at my new job; I should at least try to get some sleep. While I’m not naturally a shy person, starting somewhere new when I know no one will always be scary. I just hope I have the “being a foreigner factor” to my advantage and the kids wait a couple days before tearing into the new teacher. Not that I blame them, I was much the same as a teenager.

  The last few days have been a whirlwind of different emotions. Everything fell into place so fast I barely had time to process all that happened. Excitement and dread run through me simultaneously while I move through the apartment, turning off all the lights, securing the windows, and making sure the door is firmly locked.

  Once I slip into my bed, I lie on my side, staring at the moon that peeks through the curtains I haven’t closed all the way. For the first time in a while, I’m hopeful for the future—a strange sensation, but I’ve made a promise to my brother that I’d try to start living again. And maybe, just maybe, there is something more for me out there after all.

  Chapter Four

  After yet another restless night filled with nightmares—I’ve had so many since the accident I lost count—I get up the next morning filled with nervous energy. While it’s not the first time I’ve started over somewhere, this is different. I need this job; I need this to work out. The stakes are higher than ever before, I can’t afford to go back to Europe should this fail. Which explains the nervous energy.

  Going through my routine, I try to further calm myself. No point in getting all worked up over a new job, they’re just kids. They can’t be any worse than what I’ve dealt with in London. Yet, for some reason I can’t fathom, I have this weird feeling coursing through my body. Like I’m standing on a precipice of a cliff, looking over the edge, and I’m either going to plummet to my death, or I’ll be soaring.

  Taking a deep and calming breath, I grab my bag and keys and head out the door. The drive to the high school—my new place of work—is uneventful. I arrive a few minutes earlier than I am supposed to and park my car. I practice some of the breathing exercises I’ve been taught in order to relax. I wish I could get rid of this weird feeling of dread and exhilaration dominating my body.

  I’m staring at the front doors when they suddenly burst open and a woman in her early twenties steps outside. She has blond, shoulder-length hair and is dressed rather conservatively in slacks, flats, and an unflattering blouse. Looking down at myself, I wonder if wearing jeans to work will get me in trouble. Guess we’ll see.

  The woman stands just outside of the main entrance, looking around as if she’s waiting for someone. I stare at her for a second, wondering what she’s doing, when suddenly it clicks. Shit, she must be the welcome committee for me. Mr. Harris told me someone would greet me and show me around while the students are otherwise occupied for the first period.

  With one last breath, I grab my things and step out of the car.

  Here goes nothing.

  I move toward the woman when she notices me and a broad smile spreads across her face. From close up I can see her eyes are a warm and friendly chocolate brown. I have a feeling she’s the bubbly type who’s friendly to everyone—the complete opposite of myself.

  This will be interesting.

  “Hi! I’m Emma Carmichael,” she literally chirps, holding out her hand for me to shake. I take her hand in mine, when she continues, “I’m a science teacher here at Wilson High School. You must be Alexandria Weber.”

  “Call me Alex, please.” I can’t help but smile at her. She’s cute in the typical girl next door kind of way and her cheerful personality puts me at ease.

  I have a feeling I’m going to like this woman. This causes me to smile even wider; the day is looking up after all.

  “Well, let’s get started. Since it’s the first day of classes the principal—you know Mr. Harris, right?” At my nod, she continues, “He’s giving his little welcome back speech for the student body in the auditorium. Since it’s not mandatory for teachers and no one wants to be here even earlier after summer vacation, no one attends. So, we have plenty of time to get you situated in your classroom before the day officially starts.”

  “That’s good to hear. I was worried having to walk into a room full of students already seated while scrambling to get my bearings.”

  Emma smiles before she turns around and ushers me through the doors. We move through the lobby, which displays the various awards and trophies won by former students and athletic teams.

  “So, how have you adjusted so far? I hope you didn’t have any problems moving here?” she asks while she leads me down a short hallway.

  “I haven’t had all that much time to adjust, but friends from Chicago came out to help me get settled and make sure I wasn’t all alone on my first weekend.”

  “Wow, that’s nice of them. You seem close. Where did you meet?”

  “We are.” As close as I let them be anyway. “And I met them during an exchange year in my undergrad. They both were my teachers. I formed a friendship outside of class with Luna, and well, her and Tom come as a package deal.”

  “That’s great. I lost contact with pretty much everyone from college,” she says. Something strange in her voice makes me look at her; she seems sad about this. I wonder what her story is. I don’t pry though since some secrets are better left in the past, I would know.

  Suddenly, Emma veers off to the left and opens a door. I follow her through it, shooting her a grateful smile. Once I step over the threshold, I let my gaze wander around the room. Looks like she brought me to the teachers’ lounge.

  “Anyway, I figured you might want some coffee and meet some of your colleagues…”

  I don’t hear the rest of her sentence though because my eyes clash with a pair of familiar bright blue ones.

  Motherfucker. This can’t be happening. No, no, no… He was supposed to never cross my path again. What the hell, fate? You couldn’t for once do what I wanted you to? Really?

  Staring at me from across the room is the stranger from the party. The very object I’ve drooled over in my dreams. The one whose arms I imagine holding me safe at night. I wouldn’t have let myself indulge in those fantasies if I had known I’d walk right into his path today.

  And the worst part, he probably doesn’t even care. He does look like the type to do this kind of shit every weekend. Maybe he won’t remember me—if I’m lucky. Unfortunately, the smirk slowly appearing on his face shatters that particular hope.

  Forcing myself to get my shit together, I
give him what I hope is an indifferent and bland smile. Not that I believe for a second I’m actually fooling him.

  But one can dream, right?

  I go for casual when I continue to scan the room. By now pretty much everyone is staring at me.

  Ugh, fun times.

  “Yikes. Do you and Duncan know each other?” Emma suddenly asks from next to me.

  Duncan. No more “Mr. Hottie” or “Jerk.” At least I now have a name to go with the face and emotions he evokes inside of me. Whether that’s better or worse we’ll have to see.

  “Nope. Why would you think so?” I try for uninterested. While I’m not stupid enough to think people missed our exchange, I am good at pretending nothing happened. And that’s what I’m going with—denial. I doubt she’ll call me out on it though.

  “Ah, no specific reason. But he is staring at you rather intently,” she says before worrying her bottom lip. Nervous tic I’m guessing.

  I force a laugh before I say, “Well, pretty much everyone is staring at me right now. Do you guys have decent coffee in here? I don’t think I can survive the inquisition squad without it.”

  This causes her worry lines to dissolve, and she grins.

  “Yes, ma’am. This way.” She gestures for me to follow before she moves across the room toward Duncan. Shit, I did not think this through.

  Emma moves right up next to Duncan, and I notice a mischievous smirk on her lips.

  Wait.

  Did she do this on purpose? The meddling, little minx.

  “Hey, Duncan, how’s it going? Have you met our newest addition yet? Alex Weber. She’ll be teaching English,” Emma says cheerfully, too cheerful. It’s not hard to figure out she’s expecting to see some kind of drama unfold between us in front of her. I shoot her a look that calls for retribution when I get the chance. Noticing my expression, her smile slips for a second.