The Elementalist Read Online Free

breaths of air, expecting the pain to come back, but when it didn’t, I decided it had been a fluke and that it was time to get dressed.
    Wrapped only in a towel, I darted back across the hall to Claire’s bedroom, where I felt safe again, like these four walls could protect me from any other surprises. The softness of the terry cloth towel rubbed against my skin like a massage, so I continued to rub myself down long after I was dry, luxuriating in the sensation of touch—something so new and so forgotten.
    Standing before Claire’s dresser, I wondered what taste in clothes this girl had. Slowly, I pulled out the top drawer, the intake of my breath the only sound in the room. Bras and panties of all colors and styles, mostly in silk, assaulted my senses, and I couldn’t keep my fingers from threading through the delicious material. I’d never had these kinds of things. All I’d ever worn were white, cotton briefs. My mother was a little conservative.
    It felt almost sinful to be indulging in so much softness.
    I picked out a bra and panty set my mom would never have let me buy, let alone wear. They clung to me like a second skin, making me feel way more sensual than was healthy for a teenage girl who was not looking for trouble.
    On to the walk-in closet, which I opened with a flourish. It held twice as many clothes as I’d ever had. Slowly, reveling in a moment that might never happen again, I slid my fingers over the designer jackets. Prom dresses hung at one end. Shelves were at the bottom with more shoes than I could count. Row after row of designer jeans were hanging above them, their glam pockets winking at me in the bright light.
    This was going to be even more fun than the dresser.
    I pulled out a deep red dress that slid over my head, clinging to my new curves. I couldn’t believe Claire’s mom would let her wear this. The neckline dipped so low that my cleavage showed, and I mean, it showed . I was playing dress up and felt womanly, which was a first. I walked from one end of the room to the other, enjoying the silk as it swished against my legs.
    After a while, I peeled off the dress and snagged a pair of jeans from the shelf. They slipped on easily, and I turned, admiring my perfectly shaped butt and the alluring way the pockets defined my hips in the full-length mirror. All of Claire’s clothes were beautiful. I tried on every pair of pants, every skirt, and every designer T-shirt just to make sure.
    This was the happiest accident I’d ever had.
    Soon, the excitement of the afternoon took its toll, and I felt exhausted. An ache began to grow in my belly, unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but it developed into a loud churning. I frowned at the mirror, rubbing a hand over my stomach, and then it hit me.
    I was hungry! Hallelujah, I wasn’t pregnant. You never knew with some people.
    I clapped my hands and laughed out loud, waiting for the rumble again. What a wonderful feeling! I stood there, enjoying the sensation, and then I tiptoed from Claire’s bedroom to peek into the kitchen.
    The woman sat the counter, rummaging through bills, her figure like Claire’s, but more mature, curvy. Not wanting to alarm or worry her, I said, “Mom?” very quietly.
    She whirled around in surprise. “Claire! You’re supposed to be in bed!”
    “But I’m fine. See?” I tipped my head up for her to feel. She stood and was only slightly taller than I was, with thick, auburn hair a little darker than mine was. Her green eyes narrowed as she laid her hand on my brow and shook her head, trying to figure out my body temperature.
    “Hmm. You’re right.” She gazed into my eyes, and I automatically placed my hand on her arm to see what she was feeling, but I got nothing. I was confused for a split second—thinking I’d lost my gift—and then realized it was only because of this awesome body that I couldn’t feel her emotions. I gave her a reassuring smile.
    “I just… um… got scared downstairs. That’s all.” I