Waking the Fae [BOOK ONE]

Chapter 21

Unedited.

In this chapter, he repeats the word, "Salvatée." It's not a real world in any language (as far as I know). But it comes from the Latin word "Salvator" meaning "Saviour" but I changed it so it would sound more feminine by changing the ending (thank you French language). It sounded fitting because she technically "saved" him.

 Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy!

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               Rebecca wasn't sure what to do. Reaction after reaction ran through her mind but none of them turned into an action. She could cry, scream, run, hide . . . but she wasn't doing any of that. She was frozen on the spot, staring with wide eyes.

               How was he here? She'd seen him in hospital, barely alive. Now he was here, in her room.

               "What are you doing here?" she breathed, voice stricken with fear. Glancing at her door out of the corner of her eye, she judged the distance between her and it. How long would it take her to escape, run to her parents and tell them there was an intruder in her room? What if she just screamed? He'd run, surely.

               If she had to make a run for it she'd take her chances.

               He stared back at her, face the same as it had been days ago. For once, there was no cigarette hanging from his lips or fingers. Instead of a hospital gown, he wore a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt.

               Taking wardrobe advice from Mikael, she thought, though there was no humour in it.

               "You're not supposed . . . to be here . . ." She gasped out, pulse hammering in her throat. "You're—" She forced the word out, though it was said barely above a whisper, "—dead."

               In response, he just continued to stare, throwing his arms in the air, as if to say, why am I here then?

               More than anything Rebecca wished she remembered his name. Aaron? Alan? Adam! That was it! Rebecca went for politeness even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. "Look, uh, Adam . . . you need to get out. I don't want a cigarette. And I really don't want you in my house."

               Again, he said nothing. His gaze unnerved Rebecca more than anything ever had. She'd survived a lot, experienced true fear . . . but it was nothing compared to this.

               Trying to harden her voice, she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring. All the while backing up slowly, closer to the door. "Get out."

               Finally he spoke, voice oddly . . . reverent. "I can't leave."

               As subtly as she could, Rebecca glanced at the door. Only a few more steps now . . .

               "I'll scream," she warned, trying to keep him preoccupied. Though her fear levels were exceedingly high, her voice didn't give her away. At least that was what she though. Her emotions were probably clear as day on her face though. "My parents are home. They'll call the police. You'll get arrested."

               She was right there. One step and she could make a run for it . . .

               "I can't leave," he repeated, unfazed by the threats.

               He thought she was bluffing, Rebecca realised. She wasn't too sure whether or not the answer was a yes or a no herself. If she yelled, what would he do? Attack her? Rebecca shivered, pulse hammering.