The Spirit Seducer

Chapter 16

The week before my twentieth birthday, I'd walked down to the acequia behind our house—the small stream had long been my favorite place. I couldn't remember what, exactly, had happened here, but just thinking about the spot made me smile.

Tonight, it didn't work.

I settled on the bank. Because of the long, deep drought, the ditch was dry, it's bottom filled with rocks and trash. I mourned the drooping bushes and brown, crisp foliage. Spring had yet to come and already the air was ripe for wildfires.

Sadness rose up, hard and fast. I struggled to breathe under the weight of the disappointment.

"Why so sad?" He slid next to me, sitting close enough for our elbows to brush. His voice reminded me of pipe tobacco and the bass notes on a cello.

Instead of worrying about this stranger, I tipped toward him, wanting nothing more than to lean into him. I studied him, my head beginning to pound. He looked so familiar.

His eyes, warm and soft as he brushed my hair back from my face, called to me.

"I know you," I sighed. "You've done that before." Relief filled me.

He nodded as he picked up a thick hank of my hair, wrapping it around his thumb.

"Can you tell me when we met?"

"I wish I could, Echo. Just know you're important to me."

I needed more than my mom's platitudes tonight. I was about to be twenty, and I'd never come close to accomplishing anything worthwhile, let alone interesting. Hell, I hadn't done the most basic of teenager activities like sneak out or drink alcohol.

My chin trembled and I looked back out across the parched, dusty land. It, like me, was slowly dying. Its soul too long unfed.

"I don't like to see you so unhappy."

"I don't fit here," I sighed. "This place or this family. Everything feels off."

"Mm."

I glanced over from the corner of my eye. He was frowning, his eyes distant.

Now that I'd started talking, the words fell faster and faster from my lips.

"I'm not sure what the point is. Seems silly to keep going through motions that don't matter."

"They matter. More importantly, you matter, Echo. So much."

"I don't see how," I said, clutching my knees as I once again looked out over the dry ditch. "Everything's dead or dying."

"You're not. You'll save it."

I threw a pebble into the empty creek bed. He took my chin in his large, warm palm. Meeting his dark brown eyes, I yearned for life—all those tangled emotions my mom tried so hard to keep away.

"You're my light," he said, his voice soft. "In all the ugliness, all the struggles our people face, you're what I look toward. The reason I can still do this every day."

I wanted him to kiss me, this man with dark, concerned eyes and russet hair. I leaned in until I was all but touching the soft curve of his lower lip. The heat from his skin mingled with mine. I waited a heartbeat, needing the connection with him.

"Echo," he said, his voice even lower with desire and regret.

Not this, too. I wasn't willing to give up this opportunity. I held my breath and pressed my lips against his. Our noses bumped and I startled, pulling back at the awkwardness.

His hand tipped my chin, his warm breath fanning my cheek, before he pressed his lips to mine again. I shivered at the perfectness of the moment as he moaned his surrender, his fingers sliding up my cheekbones to tangle in my hair.