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“That will never happen. My body needs to touch yours as much as yours requires the contact.”
She walked faster, trying to escape the warmth of his open palm, but he kept pace. Such an asshole.
Strolling around the farm created a totally different experience than trying to run away from it. The sights registered, not just visually stimulating her senses but physically stealing her breath.
Beautiful colonial homes and stone walls exploited fine craftsmanship and patience. These were not pre-fab homes like they made today. These were classics.
The shutters were built from strong wood and painted by hand. The railings were spun with impeccable detail, each spindle perfectly aligned with the next. The air was clean. The sky seemed bluer. And the land was so lush and inviting she had the urge to race over the meadows like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music—especially since she was dress-rehearsal ready in her hideous puke green gown and apron.
The openness contrasted greatly with the city life she’d grown up around. The scent of fresh grass and earth tickled her nose in a pleasing way that made her feel more connected to nature as if she and the trees were one.
The breeze carried sounds and fragrances she didn’t recognize, and the sun teased her skin with a revitalizing tingle.
Her brow pinched as a thought crossed her mind. “Aren’t you supposed to burst into flames in daylight?”
“That’s a myth, for the most part. I told you, we are not vampire. We’re immortal. We are as much a part of God’s plan as every other living creature that requires sunlight to thrive.”
When he said logical shit like that, she wanted to trip him. She didn’t want to see her new situation as enchanting. She wanted a long list of complications so she could blame him and argue how much better her life had been before he showed up.
But at the moment, she just felt abso-fucking-lutely majestic and, for once, didn’t feel like having a combative argument when there was so much unmatched beauty surrounding her.
Long, lush fields of amber swayed in the breeze like gentle rolling ripples over a yellow sea. The fresh, rejuvenating air filled her lungs with another powerful urge to run—and she wasn’t a runner.
Frowning at this strange urge to play, she considered what might be causing it. It had to be the countryside. That was all.
Her stare followed a long line of trees and she wondered—no, knew—how invigorating it would be to climb one. Her fingers itched to curl around the bark, and she could smell the dark amber sap from a mile away. She could see herself lazing in the shadows of the tall timbers as the sun moved across the sky as if she’d done so a thousand times before.
“It was a dream we shared.”
She frowned at him. “What?”
“The trees. We raced through the woods, laughing and playing. When I caught you, we made love beneath a hundred-year-old sycamore, and I held you until the sun faded into the hills.”
Her steps slowed and faltered. “That sounds nice.”
“You have the memory. We were both there.”
Her brow lowered in concentration. “I don’t remember anything like that. I also don’t remember inviting you to nose around in my head. So—however you’re doing that—please stop.”
He noticeably withdrew from her thoughts, but she still sensed him hiding in the far corner of her mind, like a shadow that never moved. It was super annoying but she was getting used to it. They continued in silence.
After hiking up a gradual incline came a view of more houses. They were all dated, lacking the ‘connect the dots’ strings of wires communities were typically laced up with for technology.
Small mill-wheels pulled through a narrow brook, and she knew that had something to do with energy but really didn’t understand the particulars too well. Nor did she care.
She spotted a man working and anxiousness spiked in her belly. She needed allies, people who would see her side of things and choose to help her. She could appeal to their kind Amish ways—
“I do not want you speaking to other males.”
“And I don’t want you reading my thoughts, so I guess we both lose. Hi—” Before she could call out a full greeting to the man, he caught her arm and drew her into his side.
“We will turn around and go back to the house. Do not push me on this.”
She scowled at him with reflexive indignance but then came a flutter of hurt. Obey or we go home, he was essentially threatening. She didn’t like being bossed around like his subservient little pet.
“My rules are only to protect you, little one. In time, you’ll have a better understanding of our culture, and with that understanding will come more freedom.”
Of course, he lingered in her mind, but his words weren’t in response to her thoughts. They seemed… genuine, as if he recognized his harshness and regretted having to be so firm with her. She said nothing, choosing to wait until she met the other women to ask how they managed this domineering crap.
