He smirked, apparently realizing her discomfort. When she had finished, he stood up and gathered the empty bowls, and then carried them to the sink.
“Can I help?” she asked, standing.
She walked towards him, intent upon helping, but when she was right behind him he turned around. They were so close that he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him.
“You think that I would waste time doing dishes now?” he asked.
Her heart must have stopped beating. That was the only explanation she could think of for the dizziness that came over her. He trapped her with a warm stare as his head sank towards hers, as his breath brushed lightly over her cheeks. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his hands as they cradled her back, the touch of his lips as they closed over hers.
She gasped as he lifted her from the ground. She held his shoulders more tightly, even though she knew he would never drop her. The smooth, silky texture of his skin as it rippled atop his ribs and muscles. He moved away from the refrigerator then and, holding her tightly against him, keeping her lips locked onto his, walked into the living room. With a fire in his chocolate eyes to match the one in the hearth, he drew his face away from hers slightly. The second he did so, she felt empty. She reached for him again, but then she felt him lowering her onto the supple carpeting in front of the fire.
He placed her on the rug gently, and then descended atop her, his skin melding with hers once again. But even as she snuck a hand around the back of his neck, about to pull him towards her, he propped himself onto his left elbow, resting his head on his hand. He gazed down at her for a long moment, taking in every feature of her face, before he spoke.
“How is it you do this to me?” he murmured.
“Do what?” she asked, embarrassed to realize she nearly panted the word. But the warmth of his thighs pressed atop hers, and the ridges in his abdomen were highlighted by the shadows the fire cast. She couldn’t recall seeing anything more beautiful.
It astounded her to realize that this was hers.
“Make me feel so….” He faltered, looking for the right word. “Mortal,” he finally said. “Everything seems different now. When you’re immortal, necessity, urgency—they get stripped away. But being around you makes everything more precious.”
“Because I am mortal?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. It’s because you’re…essential. Forever doesn’t seem long enough suddenly.”
A sad thought crossed her mind. “I don’t have forever,” she whispered. She pushed up onto her elbows. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
A flicker of worry shot across his face. “Why?” he asked.
“Well, because you’re going to live forever. And I’m going to get older every year until…. I don’t want you to have to deal with my absence,” she said, remembering the words Zeke had spoken earlier. Even though her heart broke just saying it, she continued, “Maybe, if we stop this before it really starts, you won’t have to.”
He inhaled sharply, and then crushed her to his chest with his right arm. She hugged his neck, barely having to support herself when he held her so tightly.
“Callie,” he said into her hair, his voice shaking with ferocity. “Don’t ever think that. You can’t possibly believe that I love you for your youth. You are a part of me. And I will feel this long, long after you are gone.”
She drew back, shocked and trembling, and stared up at him in astonishment.
“You love me?” she asked.
His eyebrows drew together, and, though his expression had been strained the moment before, a tiny, incredulous smile took hold of his face. “Of course I do,” he said. “What did you think we were doing here?”
“I—“ she stuttered.
But he shook his head, and his lips found hers once more. He kissed her sweetly, briefly. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”
She felt his palm support her head as he lowered her again to the carpet. The truth was, she didn’t know if she could have said the words right then. It wasn’t that she doubted the way she felt about him. But to admit it, to tell him the truth, would be to give herself over to him completely. To let him destroy her if he ever left. She hadn’t given anyone that power in a long time.
He sank down on top of her again, caressing her mouth with his own. This time, his kiss wasn’t urgent. It was treasuring, devoted. He stroked her face with his warm, rough fingertips as though memorizing her. He kissed her tenderly, adoringly, and she felt tears swell behind her eyes.
Gently, he broke the kiss again, and rolled onto his side. He pulled her back against his chest as they stared into the fire, a heavy silence making the air thick. She watched the flames dance before them, felt his heart throb behind her, and sighed. So this was bliss. Being completely at peace, completely without worry. Feeling loved and safe.
Her eyelids had just begun to feel heavy when he pressed a light kiss to the back of her neck.
“I have an idea,” he whispered against her ear.
“Mm,” she sighed, loving the vibrations that his words had caused against her skin.
His breath drifted across her earlobe, and he said, “Would you still like to see London?”
With a gasp, she turned to face him. His eyes danced playfully, and she asked, “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “We could go tonight and be back by tomorrow.”
She couldn’t speak, she was so stunned. She nodded fervently, standing up in a furious tangle of limbs. He laughed at her animation, and pushed himself up much more gracefully. Bending down to her, he murmured, “There’s only one condition.”
But she would have traded her right arm to see London. “What is it?” she asked.
Slowly, he replied, “You have to hold on very tightly.”
With a sly smirk, she circled her arms around his neck, catching her breath as he lifted her knees out from under her. They were out the door before she’d even realized they’d left the ground, her eyes glued to his face.
She chuckled suddenly at a memory. “I remember the first time we flew together. Well, the second time, I guess. The first time I remember us flying together.”
He grinned. “You yelled at me,” he said.
“I did not!” she protested. “I told you to look out for the buildings. You were about to smash into them.”
He glanced at her, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Never,” he said. “The cargo was far too precious.”
She felt herself melt. As they left the forest behind, the night sky shimmering overhead, her bones puddled, and she felt her eyelids go heavy once more. She felt so comfortable in his arms, so unlike she’d felt when he had carried her that first time. It was far too easy to fall asleep now.
She hadn’t even realized that she’d done so until she heard a faint sound at her ear.
Her eyes drifted open, and she saw Alex’s face above hers. With a start, she lifted her head. “Where are we?” she asked, disoriented.
“We’re almost there, Wendy,” he murmured. “Shh, it’s alright. You didn’t miss much.”
She relaxed again, cuddling into his chest. With a yawn, she said, “I’m sorry I fell asleep.” She blinked and looked around. “Where are we now?”
“Just above St. George’s Channel,” he said. “We’ll be there in about five minutes.”
Alertness stole over her body. She couldn’t believe it. Five minutes, and a lifetime of waiting, and she would finally get to see it.
Suddenly, the tranquil waves ceased to sound below, and car horns and shouts replaced them. She looked down and saw, far below them, a city emerge. It wasn’t a big city; they weren’t in London yet. But there were people, and as they flew, the crowds of people began to grow.
And then, in a burst of color and sound and motion, London rose up beneath them.
Callie looked on in amazement at the bustling masses below. Rushing reds and soaring sapphires captured her eyes
; people walked with crisp hurriedness. Cabbies shook their fists. Street musicians collected quarters. There was so much life, so much energy. The sight took Callie’s breath away.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, nearly hypnotized by the view. The cobbled buildings and pointed corners of triangular city blocks blended together in a harmonious sort of splendor; the grey stone of the bridge glowed with warm yellow lighting. She could smell the smoke and grit of a city, and it reminded her of San Francisco. Closing her eyes, she inhaled that scent, thinking of home.
And then, out of the cool, cobalt air, there it appeared. The perfectly round face of the clock imitated that of the full moon in the distance. Purple clouds clung to the effervescent sand-colored brick, mirrored by the River Thames below.
All her life, Callie had seen pictures of this. The Big Ben was something that belonged in story books and fairy tales. And even though she’d always known it was real, she had never quite imagined that something so enchanted could exist in this world. As though they agreed, stars framed the tower, claiming it as their own, the silver pinpricks of light greedily surrounding it.
“Wow,” she breathed.
Alex drew her closer to him as he neared the tower, each second getting nearer.
“Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, looking around at the people below. “They’ll see you.”
“We’re not going to the ground,” he replied.
“Then…what—“
“Do you remember the movie?” he asked, his expression exhilarated.
“Yes,” she said, though she barely understood what he’d said. How effortless it was to become lost in his face. She couldn’t believe that she had once found his features jagged and coarse due to those decades of breakage. Despite the landmark in the foreground, this was the most stunning sight she had ever seen. The most familiar. The most indescribable.
And then, as though to answer her unspoken question, he nodded to the clock’s face, which was only feet away. Her eyes widened.
“Really?” she asked, turning to him again.
He grinned, and quickened his pace for a brief moment, closing the short distance between their bodies and the improbable edifice before them.
And then, slowly, they sank onto the inner rim of the clock’s circumference. A radiant white light washed over them, drowning them in the soft glow of the tower. Callie could hardly believe that she was standing there, on top of the Big Ben, looking up at the iron hands while Alex held her close to him. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that this could be possible.
The golden veins of the clock’s face decorated the circle in an intricate spider web, crawling outwards in magnificent artistry. Looking at it from this angle, the sloping lines formed a multifaceted sun, brilliant and all-seeing as its light was cast out over London. The Roman numerals which counted the hours gleamed. And as Callie stood there, in the pit of it all, she wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist and rested her head against his chest, feeling so small in the face of the majesty that surrounded her. “It’s like a dream,” she murmured.
“It’s the place halfway between sleep and awake,” he said. “Wendy had it right.”
She gazed out at the night sky, looking once again at the horizon. “Second star to the right,” she whispered, her eyes scanning the constellations for the two brightest bulbs.
He kissed the top of her head, and she chuckled.
“I guess I already know where Neverland is, though,” she said. Looking up at him, sinking into his liquid brown eyes, she said, “It’s the place where people never grow up. The place where anything is possible. I think I’ve been living there for weeks.”
He laughed, and lowered his forehead against hers. Gazing at her with emotions too complex to define, he reminded her, “But Wendy returned home at the end of the story.”
She froze. She knew what he was asking her, and truthfully, she hadn’t given much thought to returning home in the past few days. She knew that she had to eventually. Maggie would be waiting for her. But she couldn’t imagine what life would be like once she returned to the real world, once she left him. All she knew was that she couldn’t leave him. And she couldn’t leave Maggie alone.
She lifted her eyes to meet his, and saw the subtle question on his face. But what could she say? Her heart suddenly split down the center, yanked in two different directions.
“Halfway between sleep and awake,” she repeated softly. “That’s where she’d always love him.”
It wasn’t an answer. And she saw that he knew it wasn’t an answer. But he must have seen how her guilt was at war with her desire, for he closed his eyes and gathered her more closely against him, and let the question die on his lips.
They stood there like that for a long while, their flesh merging together, their hearts full of the same joy, the same imminent misery.
Without warning, the clock struck eight, and a chorus of bells rang out through the night air, showering London with powerful chimes. Callie gasped, nearly losing her footing. Alex caught her, though, and lifted her back to his chest. Their faces were closer together now; she could see the need in his eyes. Somehow, the peace which she had felt earlier had disappeared, for their time together had become fleeting. Her feet dangled in the air as, to the music of the bells, he lowered his lips in quiet plea. If their nights together were numbered, he would not waste a second. The way he held her so possessively… it was as if he was trying to hold onto the moment. And she realized, as the metallic ringing of the bells counted down the hours, that she would remember this night for the rest of her life.
Slowly, his kiss gentled. His mouth pressed lightly against hers, and she savored the feel of him. When he broke the kiss, and the bells ended, and the night became still once more, she buried her face in his throat to hide the hot tears which spilled down her cheeks. Because she knew in that moment that she couldn’t stay.
And because, at the same time, she knew that her heart would be lost in the forest forever.
Chapter Twenty One
Shadows
Over the next week, Callie spent her days on the beach with Zeke, learning how to access his mind from greater distances and more complicated angles. She struggled with certain techniques, such as Perceiving upon him when she couldn’t look at him, or confusing him by accessing two memories simultaneously. But she became stronger with others, such as jumping back and forth between his and Serena’s minds, and focusing on the smaller details in each picture so as to make it more vivid, more distracting.
She spent the nights with Alex. As Shay had remained locked up in her cottage, producing odd smelling experiments and muttering to herself, Callie had no difficulty persuading Alex to let her stay with him. To be honest, he didn’t seem to need very much convincing. They would talk into the small hours of the morning about small nothings: his favorite childhood pet (a stray dog which his brother had named Calem, who would return each night to eat the scraps from their supper table), the time she found out that she needed braces and threatened that she wouldn’t speak or smile the entire time she had to wear them, the stranger memories he had witnessed from the likes of George Washington and Sigmund Freud, her fifth birthday party at the circus. Strangely, the more trivial the subjects, the better she felt that she knew him. All of the inconsequential snapshots somehow formed the full picture.
Most nights, she would find herself nodding off as they sat in front of the fire, entangled in his arms, listening to him spin stories while she felt his voice rumble in his chest. These moments were so comfortable, so delicious, that she would try to force herself to stay awake. Invariably, she would end up falling asleep against his shoulder, and he would carry her to bed so that she woke up the next morning once again wrapped in the soft weight of white bedding. For the first few mornings, she woke alone, and found him sleeping on the couch. One night, though, when he tried to fold her into the comforter and return to the couch, she reached out and caught his wrist.
“Stay,” she
whispered, half-awake yet aware that, even in the darkness of unconsciousness, she would feel his absence.
After a moment of visible hesitation, Alex sank down beside her, and Callie fell asleep in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck.
Now, when she woke, she was facing the window. She watched as the sun filtered through the trees, pleasantly warm against her skin. Alex’s solid arm was holding her territorially, snaking around her belly and tucking her into him. She could tell from the even rises and falls of his chest that he was still asleep.
She rolled over to face him, and her heart caught on the way the sunlight trickled across his face, highlighting his bronze skin, filtering through his eyelashes. His expression was so peaceful. She traced a finger over the knotted curve of his cheek.
His eyelashes fluttered, and then revealed his hazy brown eyes. She smiled timidly at him.
“Good morning,” she said quietly.
A corner of his mouth lifted, and he inhaled deeply against the pillow. She smoothed back a loose strand of his hair, pushing it behind his ear, loving the way he sighed at her touch. Every movement, every sound that he made, affected her. As she watched him slowly drift through the layers of sleep and return to the waking world, she felt safe again. And that was when she knew that despite her reluctance, he already had complete control of her heart. He already possessed the power to destroy her. And, in spite of all that, he was always saving her.
“Alex,” she whispered.
“Hmm?” he breathed.
She hesitated, and then murmured, “I love you, too.”
His eyes snapped open. She saw a flicker of disbelief cross his face, but that barely lasted a moment before it was replaced with a pleased, almost smug grin. “I know,” he said.
“Hey,” she said, suppressing a chuckle and lightly smacking his shoulder. “You might at least pretend to be surprised. It’s not every day I say that to someone.”
He moved as though to stretch his arms over his head, and then suddenly shot into the air and pinioned her to the mattress, clasping her wrists above her head with iron strength. She tried to wriggle free, even though, as she saw the canopy of muscle above her, and the triumphant smile that he was wearing, she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be.
The Guardian (Callista Ryan Series) Page 25