A.D. Evans

I want to move my hands, but they__e fused to his rib cage. I feel his lung span, his heartbeat, his very life force wrapped in these flimsy bars of bone. So fragile yet so solid. Like a brick wall with wet mortar. A juxtaposition of hard and soft.He inhales again. __ayme,_ he says my name with a mix of sigh and inquiry.I open my eyes and peer into his flushed face. Roses have bloomed on his ruddy cheeks and he looks as though he__ raced the wind.__m?_ I reply. My mind is full of babble, I__ so high.__ayme,_ he__ insistent, almost pleading. __hat are you?__nstantaneous is the cold alarm that douses the flames still dancing in my heart. I feel the nervousness that whispers through me like a cool breeze in the leaves.__hat do you mean?_ I ask, the disquiet wringing the strength from my voice.__t doesn__ hurt anymore,_ he explains, inhaling deeply.I feel the line of a frown between my brows. Gingerly, I lift the hem of his shirt. And as sure as I am that the world is round and that the sky is, indeed, blue the bruises and welts on his torso have faded to nothingness, the golden tan of his skin is sun-kissed perfection. Panic has me frozen as I stare.__ don__ understand,_ I whisper.He looks down at his exposed abdomen. __ think you healed me.__e says it so simply, but my mind takes his words and scatters them like ashes. I feel like I__ waking from a coma and I have amnesia and everyone speaks Chinese.I can__ speak. If I had the strength to, I wouldn__ have the words. I feel the panic flood into me and fear spiked adrenaline courses through me, I shove him. Hard. Eyes wide with shock, he stumbles back a few steps. A few steps is all I need. Fight or flight instinct taking root, I fight to flee. The space between us gives me enough room to slide out from between him and the car.He shouts my name. It__ too late. I__ running a fast as my lithe legs will carry me. My Converse pound the sidewalk and I hear the roar of his engine. It__ still too late. I grew up here and I__ ten blocks from home. No newbie could track me in my own neighborhood. In my town. Not with my determination to put as much distance as I can between me and the boy who scares the shit out of me. Not when I__e scared the shit out of myself. I run. I run and I don__ stop.

There__ something familiar about the curve of her lower lip. The weight cradled by a soft, slender chin. The bow of her top lip sweeps across it in a way that makes me think of the sun setting on the horizon. A perfect paint stroke of pink to light the sky. -Excerpt from Born Wicked ©2014 A.D. Evans

I think I finally understand the saying like a moth to a flame. I__ the moth. My heart flutters like the paper thin wings. And he is the flame, incendiary, scorching my soul.He inhales so heavily, like he__ been holding his breath under water. He presses his lips against mine and tugs at my hair gently. My head falls back and my mouth falls open. His tongue, slick as silver, dances with mine.I__ wrong. I__ not a moth. I__ Icarus and I__e flown too close to the sun.