Twin Flames: Soul Memory (3 page)

My purse.
Everything here is mine.
Maybe if she repeated it often enough it’d
stick.

“
Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.” She snorted and slouched
against the bed, noticing the cell phone out of the corner of her
eye. She’d discovered it earlier, not locked and full of more
information about Joy.

Who is this over-trusting Joy Lyons-Morgan person?

She reached for the small device. Tapped her nail on the
waiting screen and bit her bottom lip, scrolling through the
alphabetized names.

On a whim, she touched the pad next to “Mom.” Holding the
phone to her ear, she listened to the ringing. Heart pounding,
threatening to escape its confines, she inhaled. A computerized
voice answered and Joy grinded her teeth. This was the second time
she called the numbers marked under “family” and no one picked
up.

Her eyes closed as a sharp pain struck her temple, the phone
slipped from her hand. Heart aching and head throbbing, she curled
into the fetal position. The hurt stole her breath. She rubbed her
breastbone.

Then Joy saw him behind closed eyelids. She
knew
him as he knew her.
She held the image of his smiling face. He whispered one phrase, in
a language unknown to her, over and over…

Te amo. Siempre te amare. Tu eres mi vida, mi ser.

When she could think without agony, she’d enter the words into
a search engine and figure out their meaning, where they came
from.

* * *
*

The smell of antiseptic filled Jairo ‘Jay’ Silverthorne’s
nostrils as he fought to open his eyes. Unfamiliar voices fluttered
around him, stating he was not among family or friends.

Then where the fuck am I?

He tried to lift his hand, to motion he could hear them, but
nothing he did moved the appendage from his side. His body was
laden and heavy, a dull throb echoed through his head.

His darkened eyelids brightened, had someone opened the
shades?

A faint blip signaled a machine nearby, but drowned out the
words of those speaking. With careful ease, he tuned his feline
hearing away from the electronic sound and to the people
talking.

“
I can’t explain why your brother isn’t awake, Miss
Silverthorne.”

“
None of the tests say why?”

He was not completely among strangers.

“
No, I’m sorry.” The rustle of paper crackled. “His CT and MRI
all came back normal. There is nothing abnormal about his
condition.”

“
There has to be a reason, Doctor.” Warm fingers touched his
hand. “If his concussion wasn’t that severe then he should be
awake.”

The concern in his sister’s voice brought a lump to his
throat. Jairo knew Jezzaray loved him, always had, even after all
the shit he pulled. To hear pain actually lacing her words,
hurt.

He hated being the reason behind the hurt in those he loved,
and who loved him in return.

“
The brain deals with injuries in its own way.” Papers
shuffled. “Of the body we know the least about the brain. I have
seen some who should have died, survive, and others died from
injuries that weren’t dire. It all hedges on the individual
person.”

“
So something is keeping Jay locked inside his mind?” The hand
clenched and then released his. “How can we find out what’s keeping
him in a coma?”

There was silence, the type that said more than words
could.

“
I do not have that answer. Only your brother
does.”

Jairo tried again to show he could hear them, to no avail. His
body remained unresponsive to his commands.

“
As soon as he’s stable I would like him transferred to our
home country.”

Thank the gods. I’ll be back on Calanthian soil.
He sensed more than
knew he wasn’t in the island nation of his birth. Happiness filled
Jairo at being among family and friends again.

Why had he left to begin with?

“
I can’t say when that would be viable.”

“
Doctor, you tell me his concussion has healed and he should
be awake, yet he’s not. I have a job to get back to, and our family
doesn’t live in the United States. We need him with us. He can be
monitored at the hospital there just as well as here.”

“
I’ll see what I can do.”

“
Thank you.”

A light sniffle blasted his eardrums like a gunshot. His
sister was crying. The sound sank in the pit of his stomach. He
ached, knowing he was the reason behind her tears.

Now she is gonna kick my lily ass when I do wake up. And I
deserve it.

The external voices faded away as darkness called.

* * *
*

In the shadows of his mind a movie played out, he saw a young
petite woman in a pair of faded jeans with rips in the knees and
back thigh. A red bandana looped through where a belt should be and
a man’s tank top covered her chest.

A short bulky man yelled at her, shaking a fist near her face.
She didn’t flinch, but shouted back. Her silvery eyes blazed anger
and hands clenched at her sides. Her stance said she prepared to
fight.

From somewhere inside his mind, Jairo knew she
wouldn’t.

They stood in a ruby carpeted room with red, white, and blue
pinstriped wallpaper. One section of the ceiling sloped at an
angle. He did not recognize the place or furniture, but something
bespoke of it being a recollection.

A piece of
his
memory?

He remembered years earlier, a nightmare where the same
actions played out and he awoke bathed in sweat, shaking with fear
for the female’s life. At the time he dreamt, Jairo hadn’t known
her name, only her features.

Did he know her name now? Nothing answered.

His pulse raced as their motions repeated what he’d seen years
before. He knew what would happen prior to its
reenactment.

The man’s beefy fingers curved and one shackled itself around
her slender throat. She didn’t make a sound as her mouth opened and
her eyes widened.

A thin watery line trailed from the corner of her eyes and her
nails dug at the hand.

Jairo watched helpless as the bastard lifted her by the neck
and thrust her toward the wall. The man stopped once she was
against the surface and her feet dangled above the
carpet.

His heart thundered as his canines lengthened in his fury at
being powerless to stop the unfolding events. What he saw had
already transpired, a part of the past. Reliving the moment he
realized she could hear him if he whispered directly to
her.

In his mind, he said what he had then.
Te amo. Siempre te amare. Tu
eres mi vida, mi ser.

The words in his native Spanish sounded more beautiful than
the English version. He didn’t know if he could speak the same
words in the language she spoke fluently.

Her skin molted in color from the loss of oxygen, still no
sound escaped…only tears.

The asshole tipped her chin back, cutting her air intake even
more, and her jaw opened farther. He was killing her and from the
sheer enjoyment in his eyes, the sick bastard got off on
it.

“
One day I will fucking
kill
you, you filthy whore.” He bounced
her head against the wall.

Jairo swallowed the growl, knowing what happened next, but
unable to prevent it. He was just a bystander in a nightmare, like
before.

The man, who at the time had been her boyfriend, pulled her
off the wall and threw her across the room, as he would a used
towel. She landed in a heap, coughing and gasping for breath,
holding her neck.

Something told him she had lived through it, but he refused to
leave her alone. Even when the bastard gripped her upper arm tight
and turned her over, his fist ready to deliver the punch Jairo knew
would knock her senseless, he remained vigilant.

When the meaty knuckles connected with the side of her jaw he
saw her eyes roll back and her head loll to the side. What came
next violently sickened him.

The man, who swore he loved her more than his own life, raped
her barely conscious body. Not caring of the damage he wrought,
only wanting to sate his perverted pleasure.

She turned her head to the side, looking directly at Jairo. He
saw the tears stream down her cheeks. Her body rocked to an
unnatural rhythm, but she didn’t make a sound.

The grunting and groaning came from the male on top as he
spent his seed inside her unresisting body. Jairo kept his focus on
her, to give her hope and strength.

“
I love you baby.” He whispered the words, praying she heard
him. “I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

She bit her bottom lip so hard blood seeped, and he reached to
wipe the wound. He encountered empty space. He couldn’t
interact.

He clenched his hand into a fist and ground his teeth. Why
couldn’t he protect the woman he loved?

Startled at the revelation, he eased back. He loved her? The
unfamiliar sensations flowing through him bespoke what he hadn’t
known. He did love her, more than his own life.

They were one in the same person.
Twin Flames
…recognition at the soul
level.

The warmth of that profound truth wrapped itself around his
heart and settled the rage beating at him for being powerless. He’d
focus instead on keeping her alive.

When the asshole finished, she curled onto her side,
drawing her knees up, the bottom half of her body naked. Her
boyfriend
straightened his
clothes and nudged her with his toe.

“
Don’t
ever
deny me what belongs to me.” He left the
room.

Jairo lay down beside her on the floor, his gaze following the
motion of her breathing. Her eyes didn’t blink, they stared
unseeing straight through him. She wrapped her arms around her
midsection as her body shook.

Her tears continued to flow. His heart ached as he tried again
to touch her. Nothing.

“
I can see you.” Her voice strangled, rough and raspy. “Why?
Why’d you make me fight? I wanted it to end, but you wouldn’t let
me, why?”

“
Because I love you, you are my life, my soul. Without you, I
don’t exist.” There was no discomfort or fear at saying the words
aloud, just an utter calming peace.

Her eyes closed and more moisture leaked out. When she opened
them, a stubborn determination reflected inside and recognition he
himself had only just discovered.

She recognized him, it reflected in her gaze. The air caught
in his lungs at the beauty of the knowledge. Divine mates were
still being matched and she was the living proof.

“
I will fight for you. I promise I
will
fight for you,” she
whispered.

The tips of her fingers caressed his jaw and across his lips,
hers quaked as silent sobs racked her frame. He felt her warm flesh
on his.

“
Shhh, baby, I’m here.” Jairo’s dream form wrapped his arms
around her and held her tight as she shook. “I’m not going
anywhere…ever.”

* * *
*

The image of the woman faded, leaving him questioning his
mental state. Something about her called to him. He sensed he knew
her.

Her identity taunted him, but he was locked inside his body
and mind.

No one could hear him.

Joy’s heart thundered as her hand went to her throat and she
sat up. Tendrils of the nightmare lingered around the edges of the
sleep haze. At one time, she had been a victim of abuse. Still
wrapped in the robe, the sash tight, she rubbed her face and
attempted to calm her breathing.

A man comforted her during those moments of terror.
Who is
he?

She came up blank, had nothing to work with. How was any of
this possible?

Scooting to the edge of the bed, she stood and walked into the
bathroom. With the light on, she surveyed her features once more.
Still no recognition, she swallowed a sob.

“
Who are you?”

No answer. She snarled and punched the sink. Pain shot up
her arm. She continued to glare at her reflection. Fury raced to
boiling and air hissed through clenched teeth. Would she
ever
know
herself?

Her pupils shifted, elongated to that of a feline.
What am
I?

Joy slammed her fist into the silvery surface. Glittery pieces
splintered and shards fell. Instead of one solid image, thousands
of smaller fractured ones reproduced her features. Broken, like her
mind. She glanced down as heat spread through her knuckles. Sharp
glass embedded deep in each digit and blood flowed freely from the
lacerations. Both hands held similar wounds.