Read Online The Messenger: Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #1 by Pamela DuMond - Free Book Online

into my ear, “If you shout they will find you. Despite our differences, I would never hurt you, Abigail.”
    I recognized my captor’s voice. He was the guy who carried the top end of the stretcher—the guy who laughed at me. “Let me go,” I mumbled.
    “If you yell they will find you in seconds,” he said.
    “Got it.” This guy pissed me off, but he was right.
    “Finally we agree on something. Now that is a miracle.” He released his hand from my mouth. But his strong arm still wrapped around my upper chest, and anchored me to him.
    Elizabeth excused herself from the Reverend and waddled to Daniel’s side. “You must find her,” she said. “Abigail is a danger to herself.”
    “Are you?” the guy asked me.
    “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m in danger of my sister eating my share of Dad’s homemade, breakfast frittata if I oversleep. Then I’ll get stuck with the seaweed energy bar. Which is not only dangerous—but scary, too.”
    “I do not—” he said.
    “Right. You don’t get it. You don’t understand. Because whoever you are, in wherever I’m at? You’re incredibly rude and downright mean to make fun of my situation.” I tried to squirm from his grasp. But his arm was like a vise and I couldn’t break free. “What is wrong with you?” I asked, beyond frustrated.
    “What is wrong with me?” he asked. “You were the only person rescued after a vicious attack by King Philip’s warriors on the Endicott settlement. Everyone in that outpost died horrible, bloody deaths, except for you. Your friends and family traveled for hours, and risked their own lives with the smallest hopes that they would find you still breathing.”
    “You don’t understand.”
    “You are right. I do not. After your family and friends picked through the mutilated bodies and found you alive, they carried you back to the garrison, tended to your wounds and stayed awake for days to make sure you would survive your injuries and awaken on the living side of God’s creation. Now you repay them with hostility and arrogance. Yet you ask what is wrong with me.”
    I felt a flash of anger and pride that burnt my cheeks and my neck. Then I felt shame, because in a way, this guy was right. If I put aside the absurdity of my situation, I could see that these characters in their odd clothes with their strange way of speaking were trying to help me. Perhaps if they were real, this guy would have a valid point.
    But his very muscular arm clasped across me that prevented me from running away couldn’t be real. And I wasn’t about to let some guy in a nightmare make me feel any worse than I felt when I was awake in my real life.
    I shook my head. “That’s not true. What happened on that field with those dead people, what’s happening right now, it’s—”
    “What?” he asked, his breath warm and moist against the skin of my neck.
    I felt his firm grip across my chest loosen. “What’s happening right now is not real.”
    Let him be angry with me. Let this entire crew of helpful, loving, creepy people wearing terrible outfits, living in a totally strange, imaginary world get pissed off at me. At least I was—for the most part—honest and told the truth.
    “What do you mean?” he asked.
    “I’ve been through this before. I went to psychotherapy for this. I must be crazy for even sharing this with you, but I will, because you are the guy who is not willing to let me go.”
    “I would be thrilled to let you go. However I promised Elizabeth I would help her.”
    “Head’s up, dude. Elizabeth is an illusion. It’s been confirmed by over five shrinks that whatever we’re sharing right now, is either a nightmare, or delusion that my brain is creating.” I felt his hair graze against my cheek. “And for the most part, I can’t control these nightmares.”
    But, I had to admit the combination of his strong arms and warm breath on my skin felt a little hot. Fine. Apparently I was having a typical, teenage, hormonal