Cursefell by C.V. Dreesman Read Free Book Online Page B

holidays together.
     "They aren't even real.  Lets go." My words sounded guttural, growling from somewhere deep inside and hissing through clenched teeth.  I hoped Anna would get the hint.
     "Of course they aren't real snakeskin, silly!  They wouldn't survive in this climate very well." Her words were only making me more infuriated.  "Besides, that would be gross, all scaly and...Thera?  Are you okay?"
     I had ceased hearing her.  All I heard was a rush of thunder pounding up from the deep caverns of my chest.  Tears began to well from the ducts of my eyes as sights were drowned in warm distorting ripples.  I was dimly aware of Anna's gloved grip lying upon my shoulder.  It was barely felt beneath the quickening hardness of muscles and veins growing thick, tense, and constricted, bunching to strike.
     My friend removed her touch, a look tinged with confusion and panic molded in skin.  She did not understand what was happening or why I had become so clearly angry.  I didn't either.  Even as I tried to calm myself it was only a half hearted effort.  This feeling suited me, it felt right in some ill placed way.  The prickly charge creeping along my spine to race across my scalp.  The acidic ache rimming the lids about my eyes.  I detachedly imagined those sensations as the precursors to a lightning strike.  It felt electrical.  I was alive with its charge.  And it felt wonderful.
     As these sensations neared what I knew would be their crest, stronger hands than Anna's fell over my shoulders.  Dual flaming orbs, blue suns haloed in white, slid in to fill my sight.  The hint of leather and moss permeated engorged pores, filling the sagging shell of my body with a calm in its storm.  I came back to myself, reasserting reason over reaction.  Warmth embraced me like a blanket, wrapping me within its radial beats.
     My breathing lost its laborious hiss, my eyes began to dry.  The scene began to come back into normal focus as I blinked in rapid succession.  Crystals' windows returned to normal with corners frosted the dirty white from artificial canned snow.  The case's shag carpet holding up signs with discounted pricing and items readily displayed.  All my friends gathered in a cluster of near frightened bodies pressed together.  And a shock of dark flame tinged hair feathering a nape of skin of the person beside me.
     "Thera," a familiar voice softly whispered.
     Turning my head I felt as if I were still trying to wake from some hazy dream.  I thought I glimpsed Isabel reflected in glass, hands on hips and scowling underneath the lamp light across the street, Walt in tow.  It made no sense.
     "Thera."
     Continuing to turn in agonizing slowness, I ran right into the soft contour of his lips.  They pressed gently over mine.  Not even the petals of a flower would have been crushed in such restrained strength.  I had a second where I scolded myself for skipping the lip gloss that morning, but the thought was fleeting and pushed to the side in favor of the sensations.  His kiss was soft, reassuring.  I forgot everything else in the momentary thrill of a shared sweetness lacking nothing save the awkward urgent fumbling many first kisses suffered.  This kiss, those lips, the tickle of his skin as it pressed to mine, sent gleeful heat twisting along my lips, my jaw, and to the very pit of my belly.  Even then, although I wanted to, I held myself together enough not to sigh.
     When he broke away it must have been barely three seconds.  What the heck was that about?  Did I have bad breath?  Was I a bad kisser?  Who did he think he was anyway!
     Galead stepped back, looking sheepishly at me, my friends, and anyone else waking along the street.  A little mischievous too in the eyes.  He rubbed a hand through his ruddy hair in several quick back and forth motions as if embarrassed as he looked to my friends.