Lovers Awakening

by R. A. Steffan

  “Please let me know if you need anything further,” he said, looking eager to get away from her.

  Trynn nodded and made a humming noise, but didn’t speak, pretending to look closely at the status screen on a nearby computer.

  As soon as the clerk left, Trynn sat down and pulled out her laptop, placing it on the desk in front of her. She connected her computer to the network, and immediately started hacking her way into the guest list.

  Overall, she was impressed with the hotel’s security system. She really had to pull out all the stops to get in, not a state of affairs that she ran into very often. When she was finally able to access the list and all the IDs that the guests had provided to the front desk, she searched through the hundreds of current hotel customers.

  Trynn felt fairly certain she would recognize her rescuer as soon as she saw him, but she couldn’t be totally sure. After all, she had been under a significant amount of stress at the bank, not to mention the fact that ID photos were notoriously awful and unflattering.

  After roughly ten minutes, though, Trynn found him. His dark hair and five o’ clock shadow gave him the look of a scruffy male model, and his eyes, which seemed to meet hers directly through the computer screen, were a startlingly deep chocolate brown.

  A fluttering feeling climbed up her chest, and Trynn worked hard to quiet her rapid breathing. He was… beautiful. Truly gorgeous. And he had saved her life.

  As unlucky as it was to be involved in that situation, she thought, at least my rescuer was hot as hell.

  Scanning through his file, Trynn discovered that he had checked into the hotel alone a few days previously. His name was Nico Pavlaveous. For some reason, that surprised her. Trynn tried it aloud, and decided that it did not really suit him at all. At the very bottom of the page, she located his room number and committed it to memory.

  Without leaving a trace of the breach, Trynn backed carefully out of the system. Logging off required her to enter a new set of credentials, which took time to override.

  “God, they’ve really got this stuff figured out,” Trynn muttered. She considered submitting the place for future consultation with her company to ensure they were continuing to maintain the highest level of security. Honestly, it would make a great model for other businesses.

  When she was finally able to disconnect her computer without setting off any virtual alarm klaxons, she slipped all of her supplies back into her bag. Thanks to the beleaguered clerk, she had already passed the security checkpoint and simply needed to find room 706 in the west tower.

  After searching for a few short minutes, Trynn finally followed a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair onto an elevator. She smelled like chlorine—the hotel obviously had a pool somewhere. Or possibly several, given the general level of opulence she’d seen so far. Trynn rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, pretending to be busy on her phone rather than having to make small talk with the woman standing next to her.

  As soon as the doors slid open, she passed through them and turned quickly down the hall. She felt excitement growing, and the adrenaline rush drove away any vestiges of the horrors from the previous evening. It left a warm glow in her stomach, which wasn’t tempered in the least by rational thoughts about the fact that she was going to bang on a complete stranger’s hotel room at ten o’ clock in the morning and demand that he explain to her why touching his hand had felt like touching a live wire.

  Pushing all that aside, Trynn located the correct room and stood outside for a moment. Really, there was nothing stopping her from simply loitering nearby to see if he came out of the room on his own. She shook her head, too impatient to consider waiting, and stepped forward.

  I’ve come this far. I won’t back out now.

  She rapped her knuckles briskly on the door a few times and stood back, waiting as the moments ticked past.

  It’s ten o’clock. He’s probably out for the day. Damn, maybe I’ve missed him.

  Just as she was starting to turn away, she heard the lock slide back, and the door opened.

  There he stood. Her beautiful, gorgeous, brave rescuer, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms and the confused, squint-eyed expression of the unexpectedly awakened.

  He had clearly been sleeping—his mop of black, wavy hair was plastered all over his head. This soft, disheveled version of her Hot Hypnotist was a dazzling sight to behold, and she stared at him, running her eyes over sleek muscles and smooth skin, words forgotten.

  His eyes sharpened and raked over her. She saw them widen in shock and his mouth fell open. It took a while for anything to come out. A few moments passed, and he cleared his throat significantly. When he spoke, there was a low, gravelly quality to his voice, clearly from having just woken up.

  “What? How?” The stammered monosyllables were the polar opposite of the glib words he’d used to calm the bomber the previous night.

  Without thinking or hesitating, Trynn lifted a hand up to his chest and pushed him forcefully backwards into the room. When the palm of her hand met his skin, a flash of electricity exploded across her nerves, bouncing from her hand all the way down her body. Hot pleasure coursed through her veins at the sensation. As it faded, leaving goose bumps behind, Trynn stepped closer to him. She had expected him to resist the manhandling, but he was still staring at her, open-mouthed.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “I’m not leaving until I get some answers.”

  *

  Eris gaped at the slender, willowy woman with cropped black hair standing before him. Her brown eyes were staring at him intently, as if she could pull the truth directly from his fragmented soul.

  Suddenly and acutely aware that Snag had been sitting in the chair across the room when he’d opened the door, Eris moved a step to the side to interrupt her line of sight. Foreboding rose in his chest at the thought of this woman unexpectedly seeing his companion, whose appearance was so distinctly inhuman.

  He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, only to find that the room was now deserted. His relief lasted only an instant before he realized that Snag had abandoned him to have this incredibly awkward conversation without any sort of backup or moral support—the bastard. Eris decided then and there that he would give his so-called friend a few extremely choice words when he returned.

  His unexpected visitor was still glaring at him, waiting for answers he had no idea how to give. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? How did you even begin that kind of conversation?

  Eris wished with sudden urgency that he had taken more time to talk to Tré and find out how he broke the news to Della about the events in her past life. Because, face it—there was simply no good way to ease into something like that.

  While he was standing, staring at the woman with his mouth partially open, she had stepped back, putting some distance between the two of them.

  Suddenly, Eris found that he wanted nothing more than to have her hand back on his chest. He wanted to feel every fiber of his being singing under her touch. He wanted to feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up, to smell the sweet scent of her perfume on his skin.

  “I—” he began before breaking off. It was useless, though. How could he possibly explain things to her?

  The woman crossed her arms, glaring at him. Without consciously deciding to do so, Eris reached out with his senses and brushed the edges of her mind. He thought that he had used a light enough touch that she wouldn’t notice, but she seemed to flinch involuntarily.

  “Have you been having strange dreams lately?” he blurted, trying to distract her from the sensation that had stroked across her mind. Yes, because that’s a totally natural conversation starter.

  “Why?” she shot back, looking suspicious.

  Eris paused, at a loss as to how to proceed. On the one hand, he didn’t want her to think he was crazy. On the other hand, it seemed prudent to start with something that she could relate to. And it was clear by her demanding tone that, yes, she had been having odd dreams.
The question was, how could he steer the conversation from dreams to events in real life?

  “Have they been about me?” Eris asked cautiously, drawing back into the comforting shadows of the hotel room. Brilliant. Not strange or creepy at all, Casanova. Maybe it’s just as well Snag’s not around to witness this masterful performance.

  It was the woman’s turn to hesitate. She bit her bottom lip, her gaze sliding uneasily down to her feet. “What does that matter?” she said, obviously having to force her eyes to meet his again. “We were just involved in a major crime. It would only make sense that I dreamed about it.”

  Eris could tell by the tone of her voice that her dreams—like his—had nothing to do with the incident at the bank.

  The woman seemed to think she owed him some kind of further explanation, because she suddenly said, “Look—I came here to thank you for saving my life. My name is Trynn.”

  “Trynn?” Eris repeated, the name oddly sweet as it fell from his lips. He blinked, trying to center himself. “My name is… Nico.”

  He held out his hand to her but she did not take it. Instead, she studied him closely, as if appraising him.

  “Is that your real name?” she asked. Her voice held no hint of judgment, simply curiosity.

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No, it’s not.”

  She gave a brief nod. “I didn’t think it was. Pity, I was really impressed by the hotel’s security earlier.”

  “You didn’t think my name was Nico?” Eris asked, intrigued. “Why is that?”

  Trynn considered him for a moment. “I can’t put my finger on it, but it doesn’t seem to fit you, somehow.”

  Can’t argue with that, can I? He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re right. My name is Eris.”

  “Eris what?” she asked.

  “Just Eris.”

  Trynn resumed her intense scrutiny of his face, her eyes darting back and forth over his features.

  “That seems much more like you,” she said quietly.

  “I’m glad you approve,” he retorted, amused. “Is Trynn your real name?”

  “Maybe,” Trynn said.

  “Trynn what?” he asked.

  “Just Trynn,” she replied.

  He huffed a breath of amusement. “Fair enough. So, are you really here just to say thank you?”

  Trynn paused. “Yes. Well… among other things.”

  Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. He hoped. “What other things?”

  She took a deep breath as if steeling herself. “I have questions I want answered. The first and most important I already asked you. Who are you?”

  Eris frowned. “I already told you, my name is—”

  She waved him away impatiently.

  “No,” she said. “Who are you, really? Who are you to me and why do I feel like I’ve known you my entire life?”

  Eris caught his breath and tried to decide how best to proceed with this conversation. Surely not with her still standing in the doorway to a room in a very public hotel.

  “Please, come inside,” he said quietly. “We do need to talk, but I would prefer not to do it with the door open.”

  A flicker of something like alarm passed across Trynn’s face, and he silently cursed himself.

  “Sorry, that made me sound like some kind of creeper, didn’t it. You don’t have to come inside if you’re worried about it,” Eris said, “but I assure you, I mean you no harm.”

  “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t, since you already saved my life once,” Trynn replied, looking a bit sheepish.

  Eris gestured her further inside and offered her the chair that Snag had recently vacated. Trynn sat primly, leaning forward to stare at Eris with an intent gaze. He became suddenly and acutely aware that his chest was bare and his hair was standing on end from having rolled out of bed so suddenly. Brilliant. Way to make an impression.

  “Will you excuse me for a moment?” he asked, jerking his head towards the bathroom.

  Trynn waved him on and curled up in the chair to wait. Eris hurried toward the bathroom, ducking into the sleeping alcove on the way to grab a shirt and trousers from his suitcase.

  Once in the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face, still trying to decide how to break the news to this woman that they had been lovers in a previous life, he had become a vampire and killed her, and now her destiny was most likely tangled with his in a complicated and dangerous battle between the forces of good and ill.

  Oh yeah, there was no doubt about it. This was going to go down really well.

  After freshening up and making himself presentable, Eris walked back out into the hotel room to find that Trynn had not moved a muscle.

  Patient, I like that, he found himself thinking. Just like Phaidra.

  As his eyes met hers, he felt his heart swell with longing. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her until neither of them cared about the past or the future. He wanted her to feel his devotion, which had started as a spark when their hands touched in the bank lobby, and exploded into flame when she showed up at his door, demanding answers.

  Sitting down in the chair across from her, Eris noticed that her eyes followed his every move and her pupils were blown wide. Gods above, this conversation was going to kill him, he was sure. He cleared his throat, and tried to find a place to begin.

  “Do you ever feel like you don’t really belong in this world?” he asked, echoing something he had heard Della say a few weeks previously.

  Trynn’s eyebrows drew together, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What is that even supposed to mean? Doesn’t everybody feel like that sometimes?”

  Eris shrugged and continued, “Maybe so… but do you ever feel specifically like you don’t belong here. Like you were made for… someplace else?”

  Something like shock flashed across Trynn’s face, but she covered it quickly. “That’s preposterous, where else would I be?”

  “I don’t know,” Eris answered. He didn’t want to dump too many details on her at once, but she had definitely reacted to his words. “Perhaps… not so much another place as another time?”

  Trynn was silent for a moment, digesting his words.

  “Well… my grandmother always told me I have the soul of a gypsy,” she offered, “but I don’t know about that.”

  “You find it hard to stay in one place?”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s why I have my current job. I can move from place to place, country to country, and no one even knows my real name.”

  Eris cocked his head. “Ah. So Trynn isn’t your real name.”

  She simply looked at him, poker-faced. They stared at each other for several long minutes before Eris conceded defeat. Intriguing as it was, he knew the little contest of wills was a distraction from his attempt to explain the situation.

  “I think I know why you feel that way about traveling,” he said.

  She continued to look at him, not speaking—making him do the heavy lifting in the conversation. The tactician in him admired her skill at it.

  “I think it’s possible that you do come from a different time.”

  Her eyebrows were traveling up her forehead in surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Do you believe in reincarnation?” Eris asked, looking at her intently.

  Trynn frowned at him, clearly thrown off by the change of subject.

  “I—” she stammered. “I… don’t really know. It seems to make sense in some ways, I guess, but I’m not particularly religious so I’ve never given it much thought.”

  “In what ways does it make sense?”

  “Just… my life, you know? Sometimes, I have these incredibly vivid dreams about times long ago. They seem so real,” Trynn replied, in the smallest of voices. Something about her tough exterior seemed to have cracked, allowing a small truth—the tiniest admission—to seep out.

  He latched onto it. “That’s because they’re not dreams, Trynn. They’re memories. Those things
you dream about—when you dream about me—it’s real.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before words came out. “No. That’s impossible. Scientifically, inarguably impossible.”

  Eris didn’t answer; he merely looked into her eyes. He imagined he could see something like the truth dawning there.

  “It can’t be true,” she whispered.

  “It can, and it is,” he said urgently. “We were both born in the second century A.D. My name was Eris, and your name was Phaidra.”

  “Phaidra?”

  “Yes.”

  Trynn’s head bowed and she stared down at her hands for a moment.

  “We were… collectors, of sorts,” he continued. “We gathered fabulous treasures, sometimes by theft, sometimes by purchase, and we gained immense wealth from doing so. Until—”

  Trynn lifted her head, and Eris could sense her quickening heart rate, as if memories were falling into place in her mind. His own heart beat faster in sympathy.

  “Until?” she asked, barely a whisper.

  “We were… torn apart,” Eris said quietly. “Separated by a force of unimaginable evil. You died sacrificing yourself for me, and were reborn—who knows how many times across the millennia. We are soulmates, Trynn, destined to be together.”

  Eris felt like he was doing a very poor job explaining things, as his words weren’t very informational. He grappled with the instinct to touch Trynn, to reaffirm their connection through physical contact, but something told him to remain where he was. Trynn was looking down at her feet again, sitting very quiet and still.

  After what felt like an eternity, she looked up and Eris’ heart fell at the expression on her face. It was a mixture of horror, skepticism, and open hostility.

  “I can’t believe I wasted my time trying to find you,” she ground out in a low voice. “I thought you were some sort of—I don’t know—hypnotist, or maybe a shrink or something, the way you were able to calm down that bomber. I thought you were a real hero. Yet here I am, alone with another complete lunatic, wasting precious hours of my life listening to you spin fairy tales about fate and destiny—”