Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
That noise again. It sounded like something I recognized. I forced myself to listen.
“Bethany!”
I looked up, wide-eyed and panting with fear. Cal was lying on the rocks, holding me by the wrist. “Stop moving,” he ordered, “then I can pull you up!”
I kicked again and now I was twisting as well as swinging. I could hear what Cal was saying and it even made sense, but I couldn’t stop: the panic had me.
“It’s alright,” he told me. Those blue eyes stared right into mine. “I won’t let you go.”
And I believed him. The words soaked into me, calmed me. I stopped kicking and flailing and my swinging slowed and then stopped. Cal hauled on my arm and lifted me and then got his other hand around my shoulder and pulled and finally he hauled me over the edge and onto the rocks. They weren’t wide enough for two so we wound up with him lying on his back and me flopped on my stomach on top of him. Both of us were panting. Cal was gripping my upper arms and as I looked into his eyes from just a few inches away, he looked like….
Like he never wanted to let me go again. My heart gave this massive, double th-thump—
And then a big, wet tongue licked my ear. Rufus was there, nuzzling both of us, and we petted him and carefully got to our feet and continued down the cliff. We went more slowly, this time, with me shuffling instead of stepping and Cal ready to grab me if I slipped again.
When we reached the bottom, Cal sat me down on a rock beside the river and told me to just take a minute. I didn’t argue: the adrenaline was draining out of me and I’d gone weak-kneed and heady, almost drunk with relief at being on flat ground again. How does he live like this?! He knew the route, he must come this way all the time, even when the rocks were covered in ice and snow. If he slipped, there was no one to grab his wrist. He’d be left lying at the bottom of the canyon with a broken leg or head injuries. And out here, there was no cell coverage, no ambulance or rescue unit he could call. He’d die, all alone. Who would choose this life?
When I’d recovered, he led the way over to the river. It was wider than it had looked from up above and the sound of the crashing water echoed around the steep walls, loud enough that he had to raise his voice. “You ever cross something like this before?”
I shook my head.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “You’re lucky, it’s not too cold. Give it another few weeks, once we get into fall, and it’ll be freezing. Just plant each foot good and firm before you lift off with the other, or the current will knock you right over. I’ll have your hand the whole way.”
He took my hand and we waded slowly out. Cal was right, the water wasn’t too cold and in the shallows, it was easy going. But as we got farther out, the river bed dropped away and the current started to pick up. The water rose up my calves, then up to my thighs, and finally up over my waist. The river sucked at my feet as I lifted each one and it was hard work just to walk in a straight line. But Cal, standing upstream of me, was like an oak, shielding me from the worst of the current and hauling me up each time I stumbled.
The water got deeper and deeper, climbing steadily up my chest, the spray soaking my face and hair. Just as I thought we were going to have to turn back, we reached the halfway point and the river bed started to rise again. That was when Rufus jumped in, bounded through the shallows, and then doggy-paddled past us. He was waiting on the bank for us when we staggered ashore, our legs weak and shaky. The sun was getting high in the sky now and the warmth was blissful on my chilled body.
I looked back at the river and the cliff we’d climbed down, amazed and just a little proud. When I turned around, Cal was staring at me. “What?” I asked.
He just stared. His expression was torn. He wanted to look away, but—
I glanced down.
The fabric that covered my breasts was clinging damply and, given that my nipples had gone pebble-hard from the cold, everything was visible. Below my waist, the gauzy layers of the dress were stuck together and plastered to my hips and thighs, and the water had turned the ivory fabric almost transparent. You could see every curve of my legs and ass. I was wearing panties but they were the lacy, silky pair that Ralavich had made me wear and they had turned just as translucent as the dress. At the juncture of my thighs, there was just a hint of a dark shadow.