Page 110 of Moth to a Flame

“Motherfucker.” With a machete—yes, a machete!—in his hand, Landon impales Lester’s throat from behind.

The blade glints in front of me in the dim lights from the lampposts scattered along Central Park.

“You saved me?” It’s a question. A wonder. “You’re here?”

I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it. My avenging angel, his nearly white hair, his long black coat. He looks like an assassin.

He looks likemine.

“Little lamb. Where else would I be?”

Wooshand the blade is out. Blood sprays out of Lester’s throat. His hands flail around in a desperate attempt to reach the open, gory wound.

He fails, crumpling to the ground, gurgling like the pathetic piece of shit he is.

I’m not the first girl he raped.

I will be the last.

Landon’s boots make his footsteps loud. More ominous as he rounds Lester’s body and stalks toward me.

I’m not afraid. Each step he takes has my spine straightening and my head tipping up. I’m waiting for him. Anxiously expecting my dark prince to come to me.

“You’re here,” I whisper when he’s right there, in front of me, disposing of his machete.

I’ve aged during the thirty seconds that I’ve watched him walking in my direction. I’m twenty-five instead of fifteen. The hips Landon is gripping are those of a woman. The girl who’s looking at him isn’t naïve or shy or confused.

I know what I want. And that’s him.

“That’s right,” he growls, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m here to protect my wife. Here to love her. Here to worship the ground she walks on.”

“We’re not married yet.” A laugh slips past my lips as I grip the lapels of his coat. A nervous laugh. Like he might take it all back.

“Not yet, Regan. Any day now, though.” My head spins from his kiss. “Any day. You’re mine.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

I wake up from my dream, hearing the same words. Except they’re not really words, are they?

The ocean is talking to me. Water laps at the shore. They whisper as quietly as they did yesterday when I woke up alone in bed.

Last night, they whispered my name.

Regan. Regan. Regan.

Landon needed me. I could tell as soon as I put my phone on silent. When the chanting of my name started, I dropped the phone on the bed, leaving my family and our brainstorming group chat in the bedroom as I rushed to pull on clothes.

I couldn’t get to the beach fast enough. I had to see him. I had to…

No. No onehelpsa man like Landon. I had to be there for him.

The ocean stopped repeating my name once I stepped outside our home. Once I saw him with his back to me, his shoulders pulled back and his gaze aimed at the dark horizon.

The ocean didn’t need to keep calling me. I found my home, and I rushed to it.

Tonight is different.

---