Brighter Than The Stars: Book One

Alternate 2.1

It was the whimpers and groans that first woke Madeline up, followed by the jerking of Elijah's body. With her hand already draped across his chest, she could feel his shirt soaked through, and his heart racing against her palm. It was the first time he'd had a nightmare around her, and Madeline wasn't certain what to do. If she woke him, Elijah could easily react to whatever terror was happening in his mind. While Madeline could handle that, she knew he would never forgive himself. 

She should have known her parents asking him to join them for Thanksgiving was asking too much. Now, with his childhood home only twenty feet away, the fear was too strong for Madeline to keep at bay. She'd failed as his dream catcher. 

Elijah's hand flung toward her wrist, squeezing it in his grasp tight enough, she was sure there'd be a mark come morning. There was no time to attempt to release herself before her body was forced flat against the mattress, with Elijah above her. Once his eyes opened, Elijah loosened his grasp, his body trembling and sweat dripping from his forehead. 

The clouds in his eyes parted as he took everything in, leaving only a pained look as he looked down at her. "Shit, Maddie, I..."

Madeline freed her wrist, wishing she could erase all his pain. Not just from the nightmare, but from his clear concern for her. Her hand came up to wipe the sweat from his face. "Shh. It's okay. You didn't hurt me."

"But I could have," Elijah told her before dropping himself down on the mattress. His closed fist landed against his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut. "I guess coming back here was more than I was ready for."

"Wash your face. I'm going to get you some juice."

All Elijah did was give her a nod before she climbed out of bed, and closed her bedroom door behind her. 

Her dad stood in his own doorway, his eyes placed firmly where she just left. "He okay?"

"He will be," she told him. "But I think we should leave after dinner tomorrow. Or today, I guess. Being so close to that house... It's too much for him."

After a few moments, her dad nodded his agreement. "We should have thought this through. He seemed like he was doing better."

"Go back to bed," Madeline told him. "I'm just going to get him something to drink."

Her dad looked toward her bedroom door once more before disappearing behind his own, and Madeline went downstairs to pour him a glass of juice. She drank a bit, then refilled the glass. By the time she returned, he was in the bathroom, splashing cold water against his face as it dripped down his bare upper body. 

It was then that she saw it. A tattoo of the North Star on his upper right chest. In the light, she was able to see all the little scars his father had branded on his body. Some longer, some the size of a cigarette. His eyes connected with her own before he dried his face, but he remained silent as he turned off the light, and led her back into the bedroom. 

Elijah took the glass from her, but didn't drink it right away. "Your wrist is red."

"It'll heal," she told him. "I'm not your ex-girlfriend, Elijah. You won't scare me away."

He let out a breathy laugh that didn't seem in the least bit amused, then downed his glass of juice before laying himself back in bed. 

Madeline joined him, noticing he was trying to keep his distance from her. She didn't allow it. Instead, she inched her body closer until keeping his distance would cause him to fall out of the bed. Her hand started in his damp hair, then worked her way down to the tattoo, over and over again until his body relaxed, and his head shifted so he was facing her. Her hand moved toward his cooled face, and Madeline could feel his warm breaths slow to a less erratic pace. 

"I've got you," Madeline told him, then pressed a kiss against his forehead.

Elijah shifted her into his arms, seeming to realize that pushing her away wouldn't work. He allowed her to soothe him, but his eyes remained closed, as if he was afraid to look at her. 

Though, maybe it wasn't fear. His fingers began doing the same to her, giving her gentle touches across her temple, pulling her just a little closer. With barely any distance between them, she could feel his heated breaths against her lips. Then, his nose nudged hers, tipping her head just a little, so his lips could graze her own. 

He didn't kiss her. Not quite. Instead, his lips just slid back and forth, not quite adding pressure. So Madeline did what he wouldn't bring himself to do. She pressed her lips to his.