Lost at Sea

A pang of longing erupted in Jasper’s chest as soon as Eleanor left. There was something dangerously different about her now, but he couldn’t help but fall into old habits. Loving her had always been as easy as breathing, and without her he might as well have thrown himself into the ocean after her.

She still talked with that familiar quirk in her mouth, like she was smirking at her own private joke. The way she tucked her wet hair behind her ear with a smile and a bashful look towards the waterline at her chest was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He was gladdened to know that these things about her had not changed.

He remembered vaguely the way it felt to be with her. The explosive happiness in his heart had always captured his attention first. They were friends first, so that made every conversation easy and simple. They fought sometimes, certainly, but it was never enough to keep her from curling herself into his arms every night.

His arms. The same arms that were scraped, bruised, and scarred. The same arms that felt the immense emptiness without the love of his life to fit into them like a puzzle piece.

Jasper sighed. Since when did he get so cheesy? He wasn’t sure if knowing she was alive but, at the moment, untouchable made his pain better or worse. Things used to be so comfortable. Sometimes they would not even have to talk to communicate what they were feeling. Now that they were together again, he found himself unable to figure out what she was feeling even as she was telling him about it. She had become an unknown creature. He wondered if she was even human.

He was fooling himself. Years of heartbreak and loneliness had brainwashed him into believing that his bride was not the same person she used to be. She still laughed at his lame jokes, she still looked at him as though he was the only man she had ever seen, and she still tilted her head slightly when she was listening, as though what he had to say was the most important thing that she had ever heard.

It was for these things that he’d fallen in love with her. Her tongue was as sharp as a whip, as was her mind. There were subjects that Jasper could barely graze the surface of, but Eleanor would delve deep into the core of it. She had an eye for details that he could scarcely remember to think about absorbing.

Trying to describe Eleanor was like trying to explain the sea to someone who has never seen it before. She was elegant, playful, moody, and yet sweet. She put the needs of others always before herself. She was the kindest person he’d ever known. Her conversations were free for anyone who would dare engage her in one, and people often did. Everyone wanted to hear what Eleanor Elizabeth Lane had to say.

Although the woman he remembered with nostalgia was within reach, he didn’t know if he wanted her. Not that way. Had he only romanticized her with his broken heart, or had she really changed so dramatically? He thought about the deep, haunted hollows beneath her eyes and cheekbones and did not think it was the former. She was not the same, beautiful, colorful individual that he had first fallen in love with. She was not the little girl that he chased down the busy streets of Boston.

He forced himself out of his reverie when her head surfaced in the waves. Instantly, he realized there was something different. There was a ravenous hunger in her eyes, though for what, he could not tell. She bared her teeth as she greeted him, like a wild animal who has faced their greatest predator. Her movements were inhumanely swift and jerky, as though she was... nervous?

“Are you all right?” Jasper asked tentatively. She jutted her chin out and scowled in his direction, eyes darkening like an impending storm. He flinched as her raspy voice grated against the stone walls.

“Excellent,” she sneered, pulling her lips up into a sarcastic smile that seemed more threatening than friendly. Without warning, he felt his heartbeat quicken. It was almost as if she could hear it, the way her smile widened and her eyes danced with a savage light.

“You must forgive me,” he muttered, pulling himself back away from the water even farther. “I’m unfamiliar with this type of behavior.”

“Of course you are,” Eleanor growled, lowering her body beneath the waterline to produce gentle ripples that lapped against the sand. “I’m not the girl you thought I was, am I?”

He laughed nervously. “You’ve echoed my thoughts quite well.”

She paused at that, shifting her eyes to a crack in the stone above him. He felt himself relax significantly without his permission, a gasp of relief leaving his lips. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

“I am a predator, Jasper,” she whispered, refusing to meet his eyes. Without giving him any time to reply, she left the cove in seconds. Frustration swallowed him as he blinked rapidly. She could kill him. She just admitted to her ability.

So, why hasn’t she?