A chill ran through her like she’d guzzled ice water. His muscular body drew close and drew her into an embrace. Liz’s heart hammered against her ribs as she sat up and shook herself awake, expecting the dream to end. But it didn’t. She blinked to clear the mist clouding her vision and struggled to reach the light. As she floundered, a notebook tucked next to the arm of the sofa fell to the floor. Papers rustled. Before a scream passed her lips, his hand covered her mouth.
”Don’t be afraid, Elisabeth.” Fingertips massaged her neck, relaxing muscles taut from months of stress and worry. Hypnotized by the elegant British accent speaking her full name, Liz traced his amorphous face, like she was reading Braille. His skin, stiff as like a doll’s, smelled faintly of salt air. “I’ve missed you.” His beard caressed Liz’s neck as hungry hands traced down her back, slipped underneath her sweatshirt, and glided over bare skin. “Ah, my love.” It had been so long since someone had touched her, wanted her. “Who are you?” she asked, torn between wanting to yell for help and strip him naked. “Soon, soon you’ll remember.” He withdrew into the darkness and vanished. Shivering, gasping, Liz swathed herself in a Scottish woollen throw and clicked on a table lamp. Radiators tinkled. Nothing was amiss.
At night, every shadow came alive, teasing her as she stood on the threshold between the living and the dead.....
