The Arrival: Arianna Rose, #4

by Jennifer Martucci

  Warm hands held her upper arms. “Arianna,” Darius said her name with longing. His lips were at her ear, his breath feathering the curve of her neck. She stiffened reflexively, all too aware of his body close to hers, of his hard chest pressed to her back. “Everything will be okay. I am here now. You are safe.”

  Her pulse battered her throat, drumming so feverishly, she wondered whether he could see it from where he hovered, so close she half-expected retractable canines to emerge at any moment and feast on her jugular. But teeth did not sink into her flesh thankfully. But long fingers slid down the length of her arms and entwined with hers.

  “I have enjoyed spending time with you, Arianna. I protect you for reasons other than my calling,” he said, his voice intense and laden with brimming emotion.

  His words, their meaning, snapped through her lifeblood like an electric current. She flinched and curled her fingers tightly around his before freeing them and turning and taking several steps away from him. She went to the boulder they’d sat on and took a long swallow of water.

  “It’s getting late,” she said evenly. “We should head back.” She slipped her arms through the straps of her backpack then wandered toward the salmon berry patch. She knelt and picked a berry and tossed it into her mouth, savoring the conflicting sweet-tart flavor. She stood and turned, leaning against a thin tree trunk as she chewed.

  Darius turned and looked at her with regret. Golden light sluiced through the forest canopy, kissing his deep-tan skin and illuminating his lustrous eyes, making both glow with unearthly radiance. No one would argue that he was a striking sight to behold, raw masculine attractiveness personified. He stepped closer to her and licked his full lips. He rubbed his hand over his buzzed hair and smiled at her. Nothing that he’d done was inappropriate or harmful on the surface. He’d made clear his interest in her went beyond his duty. Desmond was long gone, absent for almost a month already, and hadn’t made any effort to contact her. Nothing stood between them. But that voice inside her continued to warn, impossible to ignore as if embedded in her DNA. He watched her hungrily. His eyes assumed a feline quality, prowling and plundering as they stared, and the voice deep within shrieked.

  “Ready to go?” she asked in a voice steadier than she felt.

  He allowed his gaze to become hooded by his eyelids, his expression so thoughtful it bordered on calculating. He took his bottom lip between his teeth seductively and allowed his eyes to skim her from head to toe. “Yes, I’m ready,” he said.

  Arianna shivered and fought the urge to sift away from him. Instinct warned her that he’d find her no matter where she went. Whether it was his calling or another skill entirely, he’d latched onto her. “Lead the way,” she said calmly.

  Darius seized her eyes with his. A question or message blazed in their depths. What he tried to convey in his stare was a mystery to her, though. Either that or she did not care to see what they sought to show her. “Follow me,” he said and his voice wrapped itself around her throat, making her feel as if she could not breathe.

  Arianna followed Darius as they hiked back to her cabin in the clearing. She still did not know what her role in the coming war would be, or if a war even loomed on the horizon at all. None of her questions had been answered and new uncertainty had been unearthed. All remained a mystery, including whether or not Darius could be trusted. He had saved her life, appeared from an unseen void and rescued her from certain death, yet worry about his intentions grew like a malignancy within her. She did not know why, but a part of her resisted trusting him.

  Chapter 15

  Arianna watched Darius stop just short of the doorstep of her cabin. If she hadn’t been paying close attention, she would have walked into his back, another misstep, only one that would have been literal. He’d been exceptionally quiet for the duration of their return. She knew why, of course. She’d hurt him by rebuffing his subtle advance. All he’d done was interlink his fingers with hers. He hadn’t jumped on her and he hadn’t tried to grope her, yet she’d reacted as if he’d made a bold move. She’d become squirrely and darted away from him, though she still could not determine why exactly. He was loyal thus far, dependable, good looking, and had won the approval of the entire camp. And there was the small detail that he may or may not be her intended husband. But for reasons she could not explain, she’d scurried away from him.

  Her recent heartache, the death of her mother, of Lily, of Luke, all of it had left her plagued by corrosive emotions. Her past, present and future clustered together and terrified her so fully that most mornings she feared opening her eyes because eventually, everyone she knew would leave one way or another. Her heart bore scars she was all too aware of, scars and bitterness. Hurt and loss had left her cynical and distrustful, with frayed wisps of faith that anyone in her life would stay. A part of her thought it best to keep those around her at arm’s length, for their protection, and hers too. Still, she did not want to hurt anyone, Darius included. Her defensive maneuver during their hike had done just that.

  “Darius,” she said his name and he froze, save for the tick at his temple as the muscles there worked. The forest had gone unnaturally still. The birds, the shuffle of leaves as animals scuttled about, the breeze, all fell silent, as if the universe itself held its breath. He turned toward her slowly. “I’m, uh, sorry for, uh, you know,” she fumbled and nibbled her lower lip. “Oh crap, I suck at this, Darius. This is really uncomfortable!” She kicked a tuft of weedy growth at her feet. “I’m sorry for what happened back there,” she said finally and felt a deep blush redden her cheeks. “I had my heart splattered all over hell and I am a little gun-shy now.” She covered her face with her hands. Then from behind them said, “Feel free to walk away anytime.”

  When she did not hear the soft swish of grass beneath his feet, she peeked at him from between her fingers. He raised his hands and touched them to her wrists, gently lowering them. “I’m touching you, but don’t take off now, okay,” he said and smiled impishly.

  “Ha, ha, I guess I deserve that,” she rolled her eyes and steeped in embarrassment.

  His face turned serious. “No, you didn’t. I do not want to upset you, ever.”

  Half her mouth curved up in a deflated smile. She shrugged. “Maybe I deserve every bad thing that happens to me,” she mumbled under her breath and looked away.

  Darius gripped her shoulders and her head whipped toward him. His arresting stare held her. “No Arianna! Do not think that way. Nothing that has happened to you has been deserved or fair,” he said vehemently. “You deserve so much better,” he added, his voice gravelly and filled with longing.

  Arianna’s stomach flip-flopped. She shifted her weight from one leg to the next then asked, “Want to come in for some terrible coffee?” and smiled brightly.

  “Terrible coffee sounds great,” Darius mirrored her smile.

  She brushed past him and opened the door. Once inside, the cabin felt far smaller than it had since she’d begun her stay. Darius had a way of filling a room. She kicked her boots off and made her way to the kitchenette. “Would you like your coffee regular or extra muddy?” she asked as she heaped a spoonful of brown pellets into her mug.

  “Is there a difference?” he asked and cringed.

  “Just how much of this stuff I spoon in I guess,” she answered and laughed.

  “Surprise me then,” he shrugged.

  “Relax. Take a load off. I’ll be a few minutes here,” she told him and hoped he’d sit rather than watch her.

  “Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” She heard the thud of his boots hitting the wood flooring followed by the rustling crunch of the wicker chair he’d sat in while he’d watched her sleep after he’d saved her and her friends. She smiled to herself and shook her head. The chair was awful and uncomfortable, yet he seemed to like it as he almost always chose to sit in it.

  When finally the water had boiled and had been poured over the instant coffee bits, she carried the mugs to the bedroom area and handed on
e to Darius and kept one for herself. He took a sip and crinkled his nose. “It’s good, right?” she said sarcastically then took a long drink of hers. The thick, bitter concoction tasted like unhappiness in a cup. “Umm,” she said with enthusiasm befitting a premium coffee commercial.

  Darius laughed. The sound was genuine and she could not help but laugh, as well. “We should start a movement to have this stuff in coffee houses,” he said through chuckles.

  “Yeah, I can see it now, people heading in droves to all the frou-frou joints and telling the baristas ‘I’ll have a grande sludge, no foam.’”

  A rasping noise burst from Darius as he choked on his coffee, coughing and laughing simultaneously. “Oh man, I think a little coffee came out of my nose,” he said as he blotted coffee and tears from his eyes with the hem of his shirt. Arianna was given a clear view of his tight abdominal muscles as he did and the smile that had made her cheeks ache wilted a bit. Hurt and a strange flutter of want battled inside her. She forced her gaze to his face, which did not do much to ease the fight. “You have such a great sense of humor, you know that?” he complimented her and her warring insides lit up like a disco ball and spun.

  “I recall being told I have a biting sense of humor, which, correct me if I’m wrong, does not mean great.”

  “Nah, you’re sharp. That’s a good thing for sure,” he assured her and his gaze settled on her. He smiled a slow, easy smile.

  Arianna squirmed and concentrated on her suddenly fascinating coffee mug, studying it as if it answered every question in the universe. “Yeah, well, that’s subjective, I guess,” she muttered.

  “I don’t give a damn what it is,” he surprised her by saying. “I like it. Screw everybody else.”

  She looked up at him quizzically, wondering where his heated comment had come from. “Okay,” she said.

  “No, seriously, Arianna, who gives a damn what anybody else has to say? You are who you are. And who you are is amazing. You are more important to this planet than most people can wrap their tiny little minds around, let alone appreciate. So screw them. Screw people who don’t get you.”

  Arianna had never really thought of herself as important, certainly not on a global scale. But Darius seemed to. And he seemed royally annoyed that there were others who felt differently.

  “Hm,” she said without knowing what else to say or do. “Want more coffee?” she asked and gave a sunny smile.

  Darius looked at her with a deadpan expression. “Please, no. No thank you.”

  Arianna’s body crumpled and she was overwhelmed by a fit of laughter. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “Oh no, it’s worse, much worse,” he said and the laughter continued.

  He set his mug on the nightstand and leaned forward on his knees, clasping his hands and resting his forearms on his thighs. “So tell me about yourself. Tell me about your childhood.”

  “Childhood, what’s that? Sounds like the Loch Ness monster, you know, ‘cause I’ve heard of it, but never really seen it for myself,” she tried to joke. But Darius did not laugh and he did not smile. “Oh, tough crowd I see,” she sighed. “Okay, well, what do you want to know?”

  “I want to know you. I want to know what your life was like.”

  “Well,” she said and scratched her chin. “Where do I begin?” she stalled, debating whether to dive in and begin sharing. “Uh, my mom is,” she started then caught herself. “Was,” she corrected. “Cathy Rose. I have no idea who my father is. I don’t think my mom did either. He was long gone before I was born.” She looked at Darius who nodded thoughtfully. “Shit, you’re like a shrink. Want a notepad or something?” she teased.

  “I’m sorry, Arianna. I do not want to make you uncomfortable. I just want to know more about you, more than legends and predictions. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. Let’s talk about something else, if that will make you happy.”

  “Happy. There’s a word,” she said with a hint of dejection. “Look, I grew up kind of like luggage. My mom would lug me from place to place because she had to. She would shack up with one loser after another until some big blow-up happened and we had to leave and repeat the process. I started smoking when I was nine or ten and was home alone a lot while my mom went out and partied.”

  “Do you still smoke?”

  Arianna narrowed her eyes at him and did a double take. She wasn’t mad, just perplexed. “What kind of oddball question is that? I spill my guts and you ask me if I still smoke?”

  “Yes, do you?”

  Thrown, her upper lip lifted and her features gathered. “No,” she answered finally. “Desmond didn’t like it so I quit a few months ago.”

  “Did you want to quit?” he asked, another curveball question tossed her way.

  “Honestly?”

  “No, Arianna, lie to me, please,” he smirked and rolled his eyes. “Of course, I want you to be honest.”

  Arianna closed her eyes and said, “No, I never wanted to quit. I enjoyed smoking, loved it really. And I know, I know, it’s bad for me and all that stuff, but I looked forward to it.”

  “So Desmond didn’t tell you?”

  “What? Tell me what?”

  “What a selfish ass!” Darius spat.

  “What are you talking about? What didn’t Desmond tell me?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “Um, that because you’re a supernatural being, you will not suffer the effects a mortal suffers from smoking. For the same reason you’ve never broken a bone or fallen ill, your lungs are invulnerable to the chemicals in cigarettes.”

  Arianna thought she’d need a ladder to scrape her eyebrows from the ceiling. “No kidding,” was all she could manage.

  “Desmond must not have liked the smell or the taste on your tongue,” he said with disapproval. “He was not looking out for you, that’s for sure.”

  His words cut her, perhaps because they rang with truth. “I guess not,” she said and braced herself against the rush of emotions barreling at her.

  Darius stood and walked to the dresser. He opened the drawer she’d offered him after he’d returned from a trip to town to buy clothes and slid his hand along the interior panel. When he retrieved it, he held a small, rectangular box. He opened the lid and slid a long, narrow cylinder from it. “I have been hiding these since I got here, sneaking off into the woods from time to time to steal a drag or two. I crave them. Maybe it’s the nicotine, I don’t know. It’s probably mind over matter. I know I’m not addicted in the traditional sense, but man, I love it.”

  “You smoke?” she asked and her eyes widened.

  “Yep, I do,” he said and locked eyes with her. “Should I be embarrassed?” he asked and tilted his head to one side innocently.

  “No, not at all.” She watched as his hand moved the cigarette to his mouth and licked her lips, not knowing what she envied more, his lips or the cigarette.

  He noticed her watching and said, “Do you mind?” and gestured with the lighter he’d fished from the drawer.

  “No, go right ahead.”

  Darius rolled the flint and a spark ignited immediately. He touched the tip of his cigarette to it. The tip lit and began to glow a bright orange. He inhaled deeply then exhaled a plume of opaque smoke.

  Arianna could practically feel the sinuous vapors winding down her throat, twining into her lungs in a gust that filled her with light-headed bliss. She’d been a nonsmoker for months, considered herself broken of the habit, yet a part of her wanted to walk over to Darius, strip the cigarette from his fingers, place it between her own lips and pull milky breaths from it until the world ceased spinning out of control as it had in the past six months, since her powers had made their appearance.

  Darius had apparently noticed that she licked her chops like a starved animal. He held the cigarette out to her. “I know you quit but,” he started but did not need to finish his sentence. She sprinted toward him and affixed her mouth to the filter and within seconds, filled her lungs with smoke. She coughed several time
s and felt giddy and a bit wobbly at the same time. But before long, a goofy grin rounded her cheeks.

  “Such a guilty pleasure,” she said.

  “Why is it a guilty pleasure and not a pleasurable pleasure?” he asked and his eyes danced with mirth.

  “Because, you know, it’s bad and all,” she grasped at a solid reason in the viscous swirl of her thoughts.

  “Well sure, if you weren’t the Sola, if you were, say, an average woman your age.” Woman. He’d referred to her as a woman, not a girl. His word choice, though possibly not deliberate, set her smoke addled mind afire. A woman was sexy, powerful, capable, while a girl was testing her wings, still unsure.

  “What is it?” he asked as if reading the text of her thoughts in closed captions. “What’s got your wheels spinning?”

  She allowed her backside to sink to the bed, still holding fast to Darius’ cigarette. “I don’t know,” she said cheerlessly.

  He crossed his arms across his broad chest and looked at her pensively. “Truthfully?”

  She hesitated a split-second, regretting that she was about to lie to him. “Yep,” she said. “Truthfully.”

  “Hm,” he rumbled disbelievingly. Arianna fidgeted, waiting for him to speak. “So are you gonna share or should I light my own?” he asked and eyed his cigarette still perched between her fingers.

  She smiled sweetly and said, “Unless you plan to take it by force, you’re not getting it back.”

  A devilish look swept across his face. “Huh, tempting, but I’ll get my own,” he said and reached for another from his pack. Once it was lit, he crossed the small room and sat in the wicker chair. After taking a long drag, he spoke. “So tell me more,” he said and angled his head against the back of the chair. He lifted his chin and blew out a thin stream of smoke. “Tell me more about you, about life before this,” he said and opened his arms.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” she said. She dropped her spent cigarette into the brown liquid that remained in her mug, the glowing head extinguished with a hiss. Arianna began telling him about her mother’s many escapades, leading off with one that was still fresh in her mind. She told him about Artie Sellers, the portly man her mother had brought home their first night in Herald Falls and Darius doubled over laughing when she reached the part when she’d essentially dumped the man off the couch by lifting the cushion until he fell to the floor to wake him. She also spoke about Luke for the first time since his death. She hadn’t ever been able to talk to Desmond about him.