Beloved Beast

Chapter Forty-One

In place of a warm tranquil sky where a blinding sun and a flock of boisterous gulls should be, was a generous overcast of rumbling gray promising heavy rain. The incoming storm spawned a blustering cold front that burrowed deep into the marrow of her bones, making her tremble until her teeth chattered.

            The foreboding cluster of clouds, the ice-cold wind, and the rough, deafening sea should have convinced her to seek shelter, but rather than discourage her need to be near the water's edge, the overlapping waves and the brine-scented air compelled her even closer, inviting her to dive in, even at the peril of strong, icy currents that could quickly sweep her out into the deep, churning abyss.

            In lieu of, what should have been inherent unease, was that baffling affinity for the sea and an unexplained fondness as she marveled in open-mouthed wonder at the heaving waves. She felt, more or less, that her peculiar feelings were not her own.

            It was an enigma she could not explain.

            As she stepped towards the surging shoreline, lost in her musings, the thoughtful smile on her face slipped and a frown creased her brow as she suddenly felt a tangible dampness across her chest and down her middle.

            She had no memory of venturing into the water, despite the overwhelming impulse to do so. She knew the risks.

            In fact, she was certain she hadn't gone into the water.

            Peering down, she gasped, horrified to see her bodice and midriff saturated with blood, the dark stain a jarring shock to her senses as she plucked unconsciously at the material.

            With her heart in her throat, she reached up to the column of her skin, her fingers fumbling in earnest, probing, and froze in burgeoning alarm as they encountered a deep, gaping wound.

            A shallow breath tightened in her chest as she withdrew her trembling hands, finding them sticky and coated in an alarming shade of red.

            It was everywhere on her. Her clothes. Her palms. In the sand at her feet.

            Rendered motionless, suddenly too afraid to move, she closed her eyes, nausea welling within her.

            This was a dream, she assured herself, but it felt so real. The consistency of the blood. Its sickly-sweet smell. The impression of a sharp blade dragging against her flesh.

            She shuddered in horror, the sickening feeling in her belly intensifying. All of a sudden, she was reeling on her feet, her beautiful oasis feeling more like an unfolding nightmare as it began to whirl before her eyes in a dizzying sequence of white dots.

            Stumbling away from the thrashing ocean, her perpetual awe was harshly usurped by intense fear; her bloodied hands flailing to find support in the fleeting air.

            "Elle!"

            That familiar feminine voice instantly grounded her and the white dots receded from her vision; the hysteria waning to a small corner of her rampaging heart.

            Shoving tendrils of hair away from her face, she spun around and was surprised to see Esme standing several yards away.

            Her injury was briefly forgotten as her heart sang with momentous relief at the unexpected sight of her beautiful sister, and she called out weakly to her, her hands reaching.