Soul Seers Complete Set (17 page)

 
“Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with
their own hearts.”

– Albert Einstein

I was certain that Jonah was only
in love with who he thought I was... an image that reflected his desires... the
girl of his dreams. He didn’t truly love me, did he? He didn’t even know me and
yet, in his mind, he loved me.

Jonah didn’t have to say it out
loud. I didn’t want him to. Because the first time a man says those words to
me, I want it to be because he knows the REAL me. Not some imaginary girl from
his dreams.

The attraction of being in love
can easily capture a person’s attention. Actually, being in love is a rarity.
Everyone wants that feeling of pure bliss only love can bring. But just the
desire
to love and be loved in return
does not qualify.

Then again, without the hope and
desire to find love, one would be lost forever.

I didn’t go very far after his
mental admission that he loved me. I only walked out of his room and sat down
on the top step in front of his apartment. I needed the fresh air. The
electricity between us was clouding my judgment and my self-control.

Odd thing was, I could no longer
hear his thoughts. I figured I would just walk outside to get some fresh air
and he would soon follow, both of us knowing we would never actually leave the
other’s side.

But, did he know that I would
never actually leave him? According to his thoughts, I always left him. Every
dream he had of me ended with my dream-form disappearing in some fashion.
Walking out as soon as I got scared is definitely not proving to him I will
never, ever leave his side willingly. I just showed the man that I am all too
quick to run for the hills when things get a little intimidating.

But his honest admission of his
feelings really had me frightened. I wasn’t scared of the fact that a man like
Jonah loved me. I was worried that he didn’t truly love me. That he only loved
the woman he dreamed of and, when reality sets in, I’ll be rejected and
completely shattered.

If I hand my heart to this man and
he turns me away, I doubt I will ever survive.

After about an hour of feeling
completely helpless and beside myself with confusion, I stood and turned my
body back toward his front door. Regardless of how chaotic I felt, I never
wanted him to think I would willingly leave him. I had already experienced
losing him once. I’d be damned if I put him through the same torture over again
just because I was a basket case.

Plus, the fact I could no longer
hear his thoughts concerned me. Did he put his shield back up again? Did my
retreat cause him so much grief that he would close himself off to me once
more?

Taking a deep breath and
hesitating ever so slightly, I turned the knob and reentered his apartment.

Everything was quiet and just as
it was when I walked out.

Feeling a sudden urgency to make
sure he was ok, I pushed my way down the darkened hall and stumbled back into
his bedroom, tripping over a backpack near the doorway and making a rather
noisy entrance.

Standing over by the window was
Jonah. The glow of the moon silhouetted his strong, muscular frame. His hands
were braced along both sides of the window as he leaned heavily against the
casing.

He didn’t turn or acknowledge I
was there and I didn’t blame him. Retreating as soon as he got real with me was
the cowards way out and I’m not the least bit surprised he is choosing to
ignore I’ve reentered his space.

Steadily and without wavering, I
walked across the room toward him, my boots making a definite clopping noise
against his hardwood floor. Without a doubt in my mind, I wanted to hold him. I
needed to show him everything was all right. It was absolutely necessary to
comfort him in some way.

Slowly, tenderly, I trailed my
fingertips along his midsection and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my
face into his strong back. The solid muscles of his abdomen flexed as I held
onto him like a life raft at sea. He smelled so wonderful and I took that
moment to shamelessly breathe him in.

A light whimper left his throat as
he shook slightly. His trembling was only noticeable to me because I was
clutching onto him for dear life. I hated to see him so tormented, especially
when I knew I was the cause of his pain.

“God, Jonah. I’m so confused,” I
admitted as I held on even tighter, pinching my eyes shut and burying my face
even deeper into his spine. He didn’t say anything. He just brought one of his
hands down to grasp my arm, as if to tell me he didn’t want me to let go of
him.

Without warning, he brought both
his hands up behind his neck and began pulling his shirt over his head in a
single sweep of his hand. Why it was so sexy when men took their shirt off like
that, I’ll never know. Nor will I argue.

To give him some space, I let go
of my death grip on his waist and began to back away when he caught my wrist
and brought me back to his bare skin. I followed his command and glued myself
around him once more.

Bringing his shirt up to his face,
I could tell he was wiping away his sorrow. I don’t think he was crying
necessarily, because he lacked the sniffles most of us girls get after a good
weep. But, regardless, I had no idea a man could be so emotional just because
of me.

“I’m sorry,” I said in an attempt
to get some sort of reaction from him.

“Why did you come back?” he asked.
His voice sounded hoarse as if still flooded with distress.

“I never left. I just needed some
fresh air. I was worried I would do something to embarrass myself, which seems
to be impossible to avoid. I didn’t mean for you to think I left. I’m so
sorry.”

He turned to me, never allowing me
to let go of his waist as he looked down into my gaze. His brilliant green eyes
were even brighter with his heightened emotional state. Such breathtaking
emerald eyes. I could never get enough of them.

“Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have
overwhelmed you with my thoughts. I just… I never want to do anything to scare
you away ever again. I’ve spent so many years waking up to the feeling of loss.
I can’t survive the reality of truly losing you,” he admitted.

“Do you withdraw every time you
think I’m about to go away?” I asked, curious as to why I could no longer read
him.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t read you anymore. It’s as
if you’re putting up that protective block again and I can’t get a grasp on
your thoughts. Is it because of me?”

“I don’t know. Possibly. Yesterday
when I started having this issue, I had just survived one of the most intense
of all my dreams. It’s very likely I have a defense mechanism I don’t even know
how to control yet. Which, ironically, makes me feel so damn defense
less
,” he said, putting emphases on the
less
and inserting a bit of humor in his
tone, obviously to hide his discomfort.

“Why is it that it’s okay for
girls to get emotional but when a guy does, he’s gotta crack a joke to hide his
feelings?” I said jokingly.

“Because, it’s you girls that make
us so damn weak,” he admitted, his tone void of the humor he previously used as
a mask.

Breaking our stares, and without
backing away, I looked over the shirtless man I was still clutching onto
without reserve. Christ, he was gorgeous. Since his arms were wrapped
deliciously around my waist, I brought my hands up and gripped his biceps. His
hard, delectable biceps. Suddenly, my eye caught something on his left arm just
beneath my fingers.

He had a tattoo. It was just a
simple tribal armband that wrapped around his muscle. And boy, did it look
nice. Such a sexy, powerful look on a man with muscle and definition in his
arms. I just stared as I trailed my finger around the intricate markings on his
skin, imagining my tongue doing the same.

“Jonah?”

“Yes, love?”

“Will you tell me about your
dreams?”

“I have a better idea. How about I
show you?” he asked. I just looked up at him, perplexed as to what he meant. “I
have sketchbooks full of my dreams, Ella.”

“Oh,” was all that I could manage
to say. Brain to mouth malfunction and all… I couldn’t seem to form any words.

Wrapping his arms around my back,
he picked me up as if I weighed no more than a feather, and pressed me against
his hard chest. I quickly swallowed my squeal and wrapped my arms around his
neck. My feet were dangling off the floor as he pressed his forehead to mine
and stared into my eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, he
slowly walked over to his bed and stopped at the edge. I thought at first he
was going to gently lay me down so we could pick up where we left off at my
house in my dreams so many weeks ago.

Suddenly, his hold on me released
and I was tossed to the fluffy mattress below me, giggling like a fool in the
process as I bounced a few times before finally settling down.

A playful grin spread across his
face as he said, “Stay there for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

I decided to take my boots off and
get comfortable as I watched Jonah walk over to the corner of the room. He had
two separate closets, one of which had the doors open, showing nothing but
clothes and shoes—the normal stuff you would find in a closet. The second
closet was the one he headed toward. When he opened the doors and switched on a
light, I noticed several bookshelves with nothing but sketchbooks and art
supplies. Digging around for a moment, he emerged with several tattered
sketchbooks.

I sat up at the anticipation of
seeing more of his drawings. Backing up a little toward the head of the bed, I
crossed my legs in front of me and sensed the odd feeling of excitement
bubbling up beneath my skin. He quickly chose the same position, facing me, as
he laid several of the spiral-bound books between us.

The one he placed on top was
handled with such tenderness that I immediately knew it had to be his favorite.

I bit my lip with impatience as I
waited for him to explain. Looking up, I noticed him watching me hungrily.

Without warning, he leaned forward
and gently tugged at my chin, forcing me to release my lip from my teeth. He
then proceeded to lean further and grazed a small, gentle kiss against the
sensitive tissue of my bitten lip.

Against my desires, he pulled back
and resumed his position in front of me.

“These are just some of my many
vision books. Well, that’s what I’ve been calling them. Actually, my parents
are the only ones who know I have so many. And that’s only because they ran
across them one day while I still lived at home. I kept them separate from my
school sketchbooks because very few people actually know about my…” he trailed
off, as if he needed to choose his words wisely. I touched his hand, imploring
him to continue on, hoping he could be unashamed of his words when he was
around me. “Few people know about my obsession. Only a select few know of my
dreams.”

“This is way more than a simple
obsession, Jonah,” I said in an attempt to clarify my involvement with this
connection we had.

“I know that now, but at almost
eighteen, I had no clue what was causing you to visit me in my dreams,” he said
as he pointed to the top book in the pile. “Honestly, I still don’t know why.
I’m just glad I’m not completely crazy now that I know you are actually real.”

I touched his face and basked in
the feeling of him leaning toward my hand. The fact that he enjoyed my hand
against his skin was such a simple, yet pleasurable, feeling.

“Anyway, this top one here is my
first sketchbook. The first night I dreamed of you, I got up and drew the eyes
that delved into my soul that night. As the nights progressed and I continued
to dream of you, I continued to draw. I used to label each one with the date,
but soon, I just began to label the cover of each sketchbook with the months
spanned.”

I looked down at the book he had
opened to the first sketch. A perfect rendering of my eyes, drawn so carefully
with colored pencil, stared back at me and I couldn’t help but gasp, covering
my mouth with my hands in astonishment at how lifelike it was and the date that
was listed at the bottom. Tentatively, I reached out and touched the drawing
with my fingertips.