Ravenous (Book 1 The Ravening Series) (5 page)

   It was my home
, and for the first time it felt cold and lonely. Vacant.

   I m
ade my way slowly through the kitchen. Though there was enough light to guide me, I moved mostly on instinct through the darkening rooms. Cade followed as I crept cautiously up the stairs. “Mom.” I was afraid to speak too loud in the foreboding silence. “Mom.”

   I heard the choked tears in my voice, the slight note of panic that was
clearly audible. We reached the top of the steps, the house remained completely hushed. I swallowed heavily, forcing myself to speak louder. “Mom?”

   “Bethany.” I jumped slightly, startled by the response. I had truly believed that I was n
ever going to receive one. Cade placed a hand in the small of my back, steadying me before I crashed into the banister. “Bethy?”

   “Abby
?”

  
There was a soft shuffling noise and then my little sister appeared in the doorway of our mom’s bedroom. Relief filled me, a small cry escaped as my knees nearly gave out. And then I was moving, running, fighting back tears of joy as I grasped hold of her. At fifteen, she was only two years younger than me, but she seemed much younger. Maybe it was her far more petite, and delicate build, but I felt it had more to do with her innocent, youthful air. She was nowhere near as jaded as I was.

  
Her small arms wrapped around me, clinging tight as she sobbed against my shirt. “Oh Bethy I was so scared! I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t leave her,” she moaned.

   I closed my eyes, my heart
breaking as Abby confirmed my horrifying fear that our mother had not been as lucky as us. I could barely breathe, but holding Abby gave me a sense of strength that I hadn’t felt until this moment. I had to be strong for her; I had to keep her safe. No matter what, I
had
to make sure that she survived. “Aiden?”

   Abby shook her head, her
coffee colored hair fell about her shoulders in a tumbling mass of long curls. “I don’t know, he went to see Bret earlier but he hasn’t come back.”

  
My hands tightened on her as I clung to her, taking solace in the fact that at least she was still moving, still ok. If Aiden was able to move he would come back here as soon as he could. Bret’s house was farther away than the antique store; it would take Aiden longer if he decided to wait for nightfall too. If he wasn’t still moving then I would find him at Bret’s, but I was in no hurry to rush out of here. Not right now. I was heartbroken, tired, and I wanted to see my mom. “Where is she?”

   Abby nodded toward our mother’s bedroom, but it was obvious that she didn
’t want to return to it. She was shaking, terrified, and unlike me there were tears coursing rapidly down her face. I ached for her, she had probably spent the entire day standing guard over our mother, terrified and confused. And completely alone. I didn’t blame her for not wanting to return, she’d done enough already.

   “Stay here,” I said
as I gently squeezed her shoulder.

   I moved past her, creeping into my mom’s room. The
room was dark, but I saw her instantly. She was sitting on the bed, her head bowed over the papers spread out before her. Her reading glasses were in place, a pen was clasped between her lips. Her dark hair had been pulled into a lose bun that hung against her slender neck. The resemblance between her and Abby was unmistakable. They both had elfin, striking features, dark hair, and a petite physique. Abby and my mother had always reminded me of delicate faeries. I often felt awkward and out of place around them due to my clumsiness and larger build, a part of me was convinced I would accidentally hurt them one day. I was slender like them, but taller than and not as dark, as Aiden and I had inherited our dad’s height and honey blond hair.

  
“Mom,” I whispered, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. She did not respond, did not even blink. I moved closer to her, shoving aside the papers as I slid onto the bed. I had seen her in this exact same position many times before, but this was the first time I had ever felt out of place and frightened. I touched her cheek lightly, her skin was still warm, but it was cooler than it should have been. That man had still been alive, she had to be also, I hoped. Sadness filled me; I choked on my misery. “Oh mom.”

  
I bowed my head to hers, resting it against her bent head. I was trying hard not to lose complete control, not to turn into a sobbing mess, but I wasn’t sure I could keep my sanity through this whole catastrophe. I felt Cade’s presence in the room, sensed his dark gaze focused upon me before I saw him.

  
I lifted my head, my hand lingering upon my mother’s cheek as I turned to him. I wanted to take strength in his gaze but I was lost, adrift, and terrified that I had just lost the only parent I had left. “What do we do?” I asked quietly.

   “We survive.” They were cold words, and yet the tone
that issued them was not cold. It was sad, understanding, and sympathetic. It was also resilient and unwavering. “Because we have to, because it is what she would
want
you to do.”

   “I can’t leave her here.”

   “I know.” I turned away from him, unable to form words or opinions at the moment. “We won’t. I have to go somewhere right now though.”

   My head snapped around, my mouth dropped
. I released my mom’s still hand as I slid limply off the bed and took a step toward him. “Where?” I managed to choke out.

   “I have to go to
my house. There are some things I need to do.”

  
I was confused by this sudden turn of events. I hadn’t expected him to leave us here, but of course there would be things that he would need to do. Things that he would have to check on, or want. I didn’t know where he lived now, or who he lived with, if anyone. He was most likely on his own now, he was eighteen after all. “Of course.”

   “I’ll be back.” I
barely managed a nod. I could only manage to keep breathing through the tightness in my chest. “Soon.”

   “We… we
could come with you.”
   He shook his head. “No, I’ll move faster by myself and Aiden could still return. You have to stay here.”

   “But…”

   He broke off my protest. “You have to stay with your mother Bethany, and you have to see if your brother returns. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. My place is only half a mile from here. I’ll be safe in the woods.”
   I was surprised to learn he lived so close. Cade had bounced around so much over the years that it had been hard to keep track of where he was living at any given time. “What if you don’t come back?” I whispered. “What if something happens to you and I could have helped to stop it? Abby can wait for Aiden.” Even as I said the words I knew that Abby wouldn’t want to be alone here anymore, and I couldn’t leave her again.

   “There are more of
those things out there than there is of us now Bethany. Their technology is better, they planned this, and they have the upper hand. I don’t think there’s anything either of us could do to stop them right now. Besides, you don’t want to leave your sister again.”

   “
You’re not safe out there Cade, you can’t go alone.”

   He was before me now, having moved steadily closer throughout the conversation. I had to tilt my head back to take all of him in. His eyes and hair blended in with the night
, giving the eerie impression that he was a part of the darkness that he relished in it, and was far more at home in it than any other person would be. His handsome features were half hidden in shadow, his full mouth pinched tight. I was breathless as he reached out to push the hair gently back from my shoulders. His fingers stroked lightly over my cheek, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as he lingered upon my skin. My mouth parted slightly in wonder, my face tilted instinctively into his soft caress. I didn’t know what was going on, what he intended, until his mouth was against mine.

  
And then, I just didn’t care anymore.

  
In the beginning his lips were warm, soft yet firm, as they pressed lightly against mine. And then his mouth was more demanding, and his hand was harder upon me as he pulled me closer to him. I was caught up in the warmth and pleasure of his kiss, ensnared within the whirlwind of emotions and desire that sprang forth. I was engulfed by the tempest his exquisite, desperate kiss created.

  
I didn’t know what he was desperate for, but I sensed the full force of that desperation beneath the rolling wonder, joy, and passion that swirled rapidly between us, escalating higher and higher until I was certain that it was going to consume us both. I found I didn’t care if it did. I only wanted to ease the intense need I sensed simmering so fiercely beneath his calm facade.

   Why he would need or want me, I didn’t know and I didn’t care.
Not right now. I was too entangled in the wonderful sensations encompassing me to care. He pressed tighter against me. His arm encircled my waist as he lifted me against him, holding me firm. I was lost, adrift in him. I had never felt like this before, never experienced something so fantastic, and joyous, and right. And it was so very
right
; it was as if everything in the world, no matter how awful and horrible it was, would be ok. I had found a place to belong, a place of safety within his arms. As long as I was here, and he was here, I would survive.
We
would survive.

   Then something else began to happen. Something within my mind began to unravel, opening slowly before me like a morning glory to the light of daybreak. Memories
spilled forth, engulfing me as they spiraled rapidly beyond my control. Memories that I had long ago buried because that was where I preferred them. Memories of that
horrible
day. A day that, until this one, I had never thought could be topped as far as fear and devastation went.

   I had been trapped, upside down, pinned by the twisted metal of the car. Stuck within the backseat
I could do nothing more than stare at the broken body of my father in front of me. In the beginning he had been awake, he had asked about me, he had worried about me, but as time dragged on, and more blood was lost, he’d grown silent.

  
It had been awful, horrendous. So awful in fact that I had been too numb to cry, too engulfed by misery to fully understand what was going on. I was only nine, the most I knew of death was the small ceremonies we’d held to bury our pets in the backyard. I didn’t know much of death, but I knew the exact moment when my father left me. I knew the man I loved more than anything was not coming back to me, and I still did not cry. I had been trapped within that wreck for hours, unable to break free no matter how hard I tried before they found us.

   It had
taking another hour for the rescuers to free me from the car. For that hour they had draped a sheet over my father, not to protect me from seeing him, it was too late for that. They had done it because they were unable to handle the sight of his ruined body, especially in front of his oddly silent, eerily calm, and somewhat unnerving young daughter.

   I
didn’t cry that day, or the three that followed it. I didn’t speak either. I did not talk about what I had seen, what it had been like to be imprisoned, unable to break free, while I listened to the sound of my father’s blood dripping against the roof. I did not talk about the fact that his small moans of agony, moans that he had tried to stifle from me, haunted my every moment. I did not mention the awful silence and agony that had engulfed me when those moans had stopped. I was left with only the endlessly dripping blood, and the horrifying realization that my father was gone. I had been unable to tell him that I loved him just once more before he left me. I told no one about any of it, not even my mother, who even through her own grief and anguish was more concerned about my wellbeing, than her own.

   That was the main reason I didn
’t cry. I did not want her to know how badly I was hurt, how haunted and tormented I was. I wanted her to believe that I was strong, that I would be ok. I wanted her to believe that no matter what had happened she wouldn’t have to worry about me too. I was fine. I was brave. I would survive, no matter how distraught, terrified, and broken I really was.

   It wasn’t until the day of the funeral that I finally cried, and thankfully my mother had not been there to see it. But Cade had.

   The funeral had been over. I was still wearing the small black dress my mother had picked out for me. Abby and Aiden, also dressed in black, had not been as stoic as me throughout the ceremony. They had wept openly. It was a fact that was not missed by most people and at the reception after I was the main topic of conversation. Though they whispered, and thought they were keeping their words from me, I was not as gone as they seemed to think I was. I did not catch it all, but I caught enough to know that their hushed words, and fearful tones were not truly heartfelt, but merely more gossip for them to banter about. Was there something wrong with me? Had the accident ruined me? Had I always been a cold child? Had they somehow managed to miss my oddness until now, when it was so blatantly obvious?

   I
’d slipped out of the house, eager to escape the oppressive heat of the house and their phony concern. There was a large, beautiful garden to the right of the house that my mom had been forced to sell the following year. The garden had been my mother’s pride and joy, filled with flowers, strange plants, and wonderful smells. In the far back corner there had been a wooden bench tucked beneath the boughs of a giant willow. It was that bench that I made my way to.