Water’s Edge (A Series of Sharp Edges #1)

23. Mattie

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

mattie

B ranches crack under my bare feet and cold air stings my lungs, but my body continues to run long after my mind has given up. Just a little further. I have to keep going.

I’m so tired. If I can just reach the lake, I can find whatever I’m so desperately looking for. I can finally have my answers. Keep going.

M y knees buckle as I reach the edge of the icy surface, covered in a layer of snow. I scramble to scrape off the cold powder, inch by painful inch. I have to go faster. I race against the pounding of my heart.

My red, raw fingertips finally peel away the final layer, and I see myself reflected on the ice. I fall back in horror, but I need to look again. I stare at the other version of myself. Wide, black pupils stare back at me, unblinking. Shadows snake across my skin. I reach for the top of my head to feel for the small antlers I see in my icy double, and I scream as my fingers meet the nubs of bone.

The rumble of thunder rolls in the distance, waking me. My eyes wrench open, and I’m met with the blackness of my room. My hands grab at my chest like I can keep my heart inside its cage and then immediately go to my head. Nothing. It was a dream—another nightmare. “Hello,” I call out, but no response greets me.

My stranger had stayed until I fell asleep, promising me he’d take me to get the answers I crave. I’d stupidly believed I wouldn’t wake up alone again, even more confused than before. What is happening to me?

Birds cry out to each other outside my window. The sun will be up soon, and I’ll need to drag myself through another day. I can’t keep waiting for my stranger to just appear, but maybe I can coax him out. I need him to take me to this witch before I lose my mind completely, if it’s not gone already.

I head to the kitchen and start up the coffee pot before I find a scrap piece of paper and a pencil. I try to sketch out the image that has been haunting me. I’m about to crumple it in defeat when I hear a car rumbling up the gravel driveway. Fuck.

I run to my room to throw on some shorts and a tank top, shoving my folding knife in my front pocket. Whoever is out there isn’t stopping by to borrow a cup of sugar. My hands shake as I pull back the threadbare curtain on my bedroom window, just enough to see the sheriff’s car roll up. My stomach plummets and feels like it’s about to fall out my behind. I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet.

Seconds tick by until his fist slams against the front door, rattling the frame of my cabin. “Open up, Mattie,” he shouts. So much for manners, Sheriff.

I straighten and wait. I’m not going running to the door for this man just because he’s demanding it. He can go fuck himself for all I care.

“Open this door before I break it down. It’s Sheriff Rustin Danvers.” My eyes roll even though my hands shake. He rattles the doorknob, growing more impatient. Now would be an excellent time for my stalker to appear out of the woods.

I clench and release my hands several times. My fingertips tingle, and the muscles in my legs twitch as my brain shuffles through my options. I walk steadily towards the front door until only the shaking piece of wood is between us. “This is private fucking property,” I call out to him. I hope my words sound steadier than I feel. “You can come back with a warrant.”

“Listen here, Mattie Gibson. I don’t care what direction our case is headed in now. There’s a lot of weird shit happening in these woods, and I know you have something to do with it,” he huffs. I hear his footsteps as he paces on the porch in front of the door.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” I snarl back, summoning confidence I don’t have. The only way he’d know anything about me is if he knew my pa, which would say far more about him than me.

“Normal women don’t live out here by themselves,” he sneers. My body shakes with anger. I wonder what expression would be his last, forever etched on his pale and bloated face as he floats out in the water. His next words confirm my suspicions and sink my stomach like a lead weight. “Your daddy was doing some fucked up shit out here too.”

“I am not my pa!” I shout, leaning on one arm to brace myself against the door. Black spots cloud my vision.

“Maybe you’re worse,” he chuckles. His words hit me like bullets to my chest. Silence builds between us. Seconds feel like hours until he gives up waiting for my response. Rain begins to spill from the sky. Drops of water pound into the roof, filling the quiet before the sheriff speaks again. “You’ll be seeing me again, Mattie. But mark my words, we all get what we deserve.”

The phrase is a death blow. My body shudders, and I slide to the floor. Bile churns in my empty stomach as the room spins. His footsteps retreat, and finally, I hear his car pull away. I curl into myself and count each inhale before I blow out each breath through my mouth.

Once I regain control of myself, I throw open the door. The scent of bourbon and sweat is still heavy on the porch as I run through the pouring rain towards the trees. I tear off my soaked clothes once the lake comes into view, desperate to rid myself of everything I’m feeling. The water is cool as I rush in until only my head is above the surface. Wet hair clings to my face, and a scream tears through me, echoing out across Devil’s Pool.

“I know what you’re running from, little bug, but I’m more interested in what you’re running to,” a familiar voice whispers in my ear. Water splashes around us as I spin to meet him. His arms wrap around me and he pulls me into him. Our bare skin meets, and chills race along my spine. His lips hover over mine as a small cry slips out of me. Warmth spreads through my body, settling deep in my core as he traces my lips with his tongue. My neediness coils inside me, and I let out a shaky breath. He moans, arching his back and pressing his hips into mine. “Every exhale you take is a tiny gift to me.”

Lightning brightens the sky, and I take a sharp inhale. His fingers trail down to the apex of my thighs. My legs tremble as his fingertips brush through my folds. Every nerve in my body starts to hum as pressure builds in my core. He swirls my swollen clit with his thumb and he breaks through my entrance with one finger. My pussy is throbbing, begging for him to fill me with more. I curl one leg around him, rolling my hips in time with the thrust of his hand. Two more fingers join the first, pulsing against the spot inside me that will send me over the edge.

“That’s it, little bug. Break for me,” he moans into my neck. He nips at the thin skin below my ear, working his way down to my shoulder. I throw my head back and cry out. My hands flail in a frenzy to touch every inch of him as my building release becomes a storm inside me.

My stranger’s hand grips my ass firmly, and he lifts me up. The breeze sends tingles zipping across my skin, amplifying the feeling of his touch. He brings me down onto his hardened length, stretching me to my breaking point. A scream tears through me, and I roll my hips into his, not able to get enough of him. The pulsing of his cock inside me synchronizes with my walls trying desperately to get him to fill me even further. His pace quickens until I swear we’re both vibrating at a frequency so intense, I lose control over my body. He ruts into me again and again until I’m completely at his mercy. I can’t tell where my body ends and his begins.

“Eyes on me,” he growls, and I oblige. I can’t get enough air in my lungs to argue, even if I wanted to. The edges of my vision blur until I’m unable to keep my eyes open. My mind floods with images, like playing a movie, of our first night together. Lightning cracks again, sending tendrils of light across my closed eyelids. The air, charged with unescapable electricity, raises each hair on my body.

The mist surrounds him. His form changes shape. My mind slips into a murky darkness. A kiss on my forehead. And words. Familiar words. What is he saying?

“My name is Ripp, little bug.”

A violent surge of knowing unleashes from inside me as the barrier around those memories breaks, and I’m screaming his name. I know my stranger’s name.

“Ripp,” I howl. My voice cries out, strangled and broken. “Ripp.” Our releases unfurl together, melding into an explosion that sends shockwaves through the water—a shared moment of frenzied ecstasy. The woods surrounding us fall silent, like we’re the only beings who dwell here.

I melt into his chest, not ready to let go of this quiet moment, a feeling of calm that has never been within my grasp. His hands come up to brush the hair from my face, and I feel my legs become weightless once again in the water. I glance at my arms, and inky trails of black seem to disappear as they sink into my skin. I blink furiously to clear my vision, but the look on Ripp’s face tells me he saw them too.

“It’s time to go see the witch,” he says softly, bringing his forehead to mine and kissing me on the bridge of my nose.