by RK Close
My shower felt amazing, but now I’m feeling tired and fatigued from a busy day. I finish up in the bathroom and head into my bedroom.
Adam is sitting on my bed, and I’m so startled I scream and jump like an idiot.
“Oh, my lord! Do you have to scare the crap out of me all the time? What are you doing in here?” I ask, holding my robe closed and tucking my hair behind my ear. He seems to have no concept of personal space.
He leans back on one elbow, looking way too comfortable in my bed. Why does he always have to look like my latest fantasy? It’s beginning to cut into my self-control.
“I think it’s time we work on your fighting skills. Gabe has a blade that we think you should start carrying. We can both teach you how to use it,” he says, looking me up and down, with what looks like more than weapons on his mind.
I’m guessing he’s not mad at me anymore or he’s choosing to ignore it for the moment. I adjust the tie on my robe, making sure it’s secure.
“I’d love to learn how to use a knife, but what good would it do me against a vampire?” I ask, crossing my arms and leaning on my dresser.
He moves to a sitting position, still looking at me like I’m dessert or something. He should have had some pie. The kitchen is closed.
“This is no ordinary blade we are talking about. The blade I’m referring to has been blessed by angels, and will kill a vampire if it touches our heart. Any injury from this blade won’t heal quickly, and will leave a nasty scar,” he says, watching me.
He knows I’m intrigued. I study my nails for show. That’s only part of the problem having men around that know what I’m feeling. It’s like cheating.
“So I could kill Zac myself?” I ask, slanting a look at him.
The corners of his mouth turn up slightly.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” He looks like he likes my way of thinking, even if he won’t give me the opportunity. “This is a precaution. Let’s say it’s something to give you an edge if the situation goes wrong. We are trying to account for every variable, but inevitably there is always something missed when it all goes down. I believe Gabe is fashioning a sheath to help you conceal it.” He stands and I jump a little. I don’t know why.
“Jumpy tonight?” he asks, with that hint of a smile on his lips.
“I’m always jumpy when you’re around. Something in the blood, I guess.” I give him a snotty look, not liking that he has any effect on me.
Suddenly, I’m in his arms and his lips are at my ear. My hands are on his chest without me even realizing that I put them there. A shiver runs through my core, and a flame ignites in my abdomen. I love—and hate—the feelings he commands in my body.
I’ve never liked being out of control, and it’s a constant battle around him.
“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.
My heart is racing, and I know he feels my reaction.
This thought makes me mad, and goes a long way in cooling my flames.
“Just testing the waters,” he breathes into my ear.
I feel him kiss my ear so lightly that I almost wonder if he did. I’m hyper-aware of his touch on my back. I pull my head back enough to look into his eyes. They’re glowing blue flames.
I don’t need to feel his emotions to know his thoughts right now. His eyes are a dead giveaway. Knowing this is like a jolt of electricity through my veins, and my breath catches. The look in his eyes is fierce and possessive. It’s moments like these that he can barely pass as human. There is an animalistic quality to the power emanating from him. It both scares and excites me.
I have no strength to stop him if he kisses me. And in the back of my mind is the concern that what I feel may not be real.
It’s the shadow in the room that’s leaving me in doubt. I don’t know what else to do, so I turn my head away. He doesn’t move for what seems like an eternity. “What are you afraid of?” he asks. I turn and look at him then.
“Everything! I don’t know what feelings are mine. I don’t know what is normal and what is from your blood running through my body. I don’t know how I feel about any of this, and I have no time to think about it. I don’t know if we would even know each other if my life wasn’t in danger, and you didn’t feel somewhat responsible.
“I’m scared of feeling something for you or anyone else, right now. This isn’t the way I date a guy. Hell, I don’t even date much! I know very little about you. And sex is not casual for me, but it is for you. I want more than a sexual encounter. I want someone special that I can trust and hold onto. I know you’ve been here for me, but it feels temporary. I don’t need a temporary moment for my memory book…and I don’t have any idea what you want beyond that moment.”
Wow. I guess I’ve been holding some stuff in too tight. His face never changes as the words pour from my mouth, but he does slowly release me as I finish.
His eyes are their normal brilliant blue, so obviously my rant didn’t fan his flames, but managed to put them out.
He steps back from me and says simply, “I understand.” He walks to my bedroom door before turning back to me.
“I still wish to take you to the opera tomorrow. Are you still inclined to go?”
I blink at him. Is that it? “Yes, I’d still like to go,” I say, looking away.
I don’t know why. His response tells me everything that I feared but needed to know. Why go through the motions? For one, I want to wear that dress, damn it!
He nods his head and leaves me alone with the knowledge that he doesn’t want what I want. And I was looking forward to spending a somewhat normal evening with him. I realize that I was…excited to go with him.
I feel hurt—damaged almost. Why do I feel like we broke up or something? We aren’t even dating one another. All we did was clear out the huge elephant in the room. Why do I feel so betrayed? Did I secretly hope he would profess his undying love for me—argue, or at least lie to me about his intentions?
I feel the need for a tub of ice cream and a bucket full of chocolate. I settle for sitting in my bed and eating half a pumpkin pie with loads of whipped topping.
It’s one of those nights.
Chapter 27
I’m surrounded by people dressed for an elaborate ball, adorned with exquisite and intricate masks. Most of the masks worn by women are beautiful pieces of art that hide the identity of the wearer by covering their eyes.
Many of the men wear bolder masks, representing animals or birds that cover most of their face. I don’t know history well enough, but if I had to guess the time period I’d say it was the 1700 or1800s, based on the attire and furnishings.
Conversations abound, and instrumental music fills the air. I find the source with little effort. A band of finely dressed musicians are assembled in the corner of an enormous ballroom with two large staircases leading to an upper level on opposite ends of the room.
Dancing couples perform a slow, timeless dance where only brief moments of contact are made. The dancers mesmerize me. I could watch them dance for hours.
Crowds move around me, and I feel the rustle of my dress as they pass too closely. Looking down, I see that I’m wearing a gown as well. I spin around, looking for something, anything, and nothing.
Catching a glimpse of myself in a large gilded mirror, I see that my mask is made of silver and blue feathers, adorned with jewels that sparkle and catch the light cast by hundreds of candles, grouped in chandeliers hanging from heavy chains throughout the great room.
My gown is full, and the palest of blues…what the…! My breasts are threatening to pop out and say hello at any moment!
I self-consciously try to hide my breasts by covering them with my hands. This action only causes anyone nearby to take more notice of my girls. Talk about scandalous—I look around nervously before I notice that everyone’s breasts are on the verge of falling out. Even the ones that don’t have much.
Okay, so at least I don’t stand out in the sea of cleavage. I’m as in
conspicuous as everyone else.
I don’t know where I am, and I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m to do. I begin to move through the crowd slowly. Masked faces turn to watch me as I approach. Anyone could be behind those masks. Do I know them? Do they know me?
I climb the stairs to the first landing and turn to look out over the crowd. There must be at least three hundred people or more.
Behind me is a curtained area, and I spy windows where the curtains meet. I move to pull the heavy curtains aside with a gloved hand.
To my surprise, a masked man and woman are in the middle of groping each other. I gasp in surprise. Their heads snap in my direction, and they are frozen as they watch me from behind their masks. Embarrassed, I mumble my apologies, and let the curtain drop as I turn to flee.
I don’t get far as I run right into the arms of another masked man. He steadies me and watches me, his identity hidden. The stranger wears a simple satin mask of pure black. His eyes are a brilliant blue, and they shine in the candlelight. I look up into his face, trying to decide if he could be Adam.
He says nothing, but offers me his arm. For reasons I may never understand, I hook my hand on his arm and allow him to guide me back down the stairs. Without a word he leads me toward the dancers.
I begin to panic when I realize his intentions. I stop and he looks down at me. “I can’t dance. I don’t know the moves,” I say in a rush of words. He simply locks my hand in place on his arm and leads me into the middle of the floor as the music changes.
The melody starts and dancers begin to move. He leads me through the dance as if we’ve done it a thousand times. I don’t know the dance, but my body does. We move seamlessly together. Our eyes never leave one another.
I still don’t know if my partner is Adam or not. I try to recognize his build, movements, the line of his jaw, but I’m not certain.
The music changes and I’m in his arms as we dance a waltz. His hand on my lower back is firm and controlling. My hand sits lightly in his upturned palm. Around and around we go. The room and the people become a blur. There is only he and I. In this moment there is a spark of familiarity, and just as quickly it’s gone.
Another masked man taps my partner on the back, and he releases his hold on me, and bows before retreating into the crowd. I watch his broad shoulders disappear in a sea of people.
My new partner wears a feathered mask shaped like a raven. He too has blue eyes, and I search his face, looking for a spark of recognition. Once again we move swiftly through the dance. This partner holds me lightly, cautiously. So different from my first dance partner. Once again the room begins to blur around me, only this time the lights begin to dim and suddenly I’m in the dark windowed alcove. We are hidden from the party behind heavy drapes. I can feel cold air from the wall of windows.
My gentle, hesitant dance partner with the raven mask has me up against the wall, his mask hangs down his back, and his lips are on my neck, tracing kisses down to my plunging neckline. I can’t see his face, and the idea that I don’t know who this is frightens and excites me. I try to push him back to see him better, but he’ll have none of that. His advances become more heated, more anxious. His hands are everywhere.
My head is swimming with the sensations he’s making me feel. Never breaking his kisses, his hands start gathering my dress up, and I feel a cold breeze on my legs. I snap out of my fog when his hand finds my thighs. With a strength I didn’t know I had, I shove him away, and he almost loses his footing.
I’m horrified and ashamed when I look into Zac’s lust-filled eyes as he grins at me. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and I wonder when that happened. I push the curtain away and run down the stairs, almost tripping on my gown. At the bottom of the stairs I look up to see if Zac is chasing me, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
I feel sick.
As I hurry through the crowd, masked faces turn to stare at me. I search for a door to escape this madhouse. There are so many doors, and I don’t know which one will allow me to escape. I start with the closest door with the least amount of people around. I turn the heavy knob and push the large wooden door open. Soft candlelight gives the room an otherworldly glow. I freeze with my hand still on the handle.
A man has a woman in a tight embrace. It’s my first dance partner, and he raises his head from the woman’s neck to look at me. His mouth is stained red, and there is blood on her neck. She looks to be in the throes of passion, beyond noticing me, but he sees me. I don’t know if it’s Adam or not, but I have a strange feeling of jealousy and betrayal mixed with a hint of fear in the pit of my stomach.
Releasing the woman, who slips into a chair, he moves toward me with purpose. I turn and run through the crowd, bumping and disturbing guests and their drinks as I go.
Someone grabs my arm, and I turn to fight them off, but it’s another man in a suit that is the same color as mine. He lifts his mask for me to see his face. It’s Gabe. I stop resisting and let him lead me through another door. He’s helping me escape. I’m so relieved I want to cry.
We spill into the night air and I can finally breathe. Gabe is still holding my hand in his, and I’m about to ask him why we are here, when his face contorts in pain and confusion. We both look down and see an ugly blade protruding from his stomach. I scream and step back, my mind going blank with fear. Gabe drops to his knees, and behind him is Zac, smiling like the devil himself.
My screams shatter the night.
Chapter 28
Gabe comes crashing into my room, looking ready for a fight. He even has a sword in his hand. Searching the room for a threat and finding none, his gaze lands on me. I see my emotions mirrored in his worried face. Thankfully, he only feels my emotions but can’t read my mind.
The dream is still too fresh, and the pain is too real. I look at him and the tears start to flow. I feel like a wimp, but I don’t care. I hate how real my dreams have become, and I don’t fully understand what they mean. I’m worried that it could be a premonition of sorts. I wonder if Gabe can tell that my concern and fear is for him.
Gabe lays his sword down on my nightstand and sits on the edge of my bed carefully. He must realize there is no threat, only a bad dream. He places a gentle hand on my back, and waits for my sobs to subside. I pull the pillow from my face and throw my arms around his neck while I sob freely. I’m praying that it isn’t a premonition, only a dream left over from the tension brought on by the arrival of his cousin and the news about his family.
I’m sure my embrace surprises him, but he encircles me with his arms and holds me tightly as I cry into his shoulder. I know that I care for Gabe, but seeing that knife in him made me realize that he matters a great deal to me. I may not know where he fits in my life yet, but I know he belongs. I will do whatever I can to protect him. His family will have to go through me before they can get to him.
We stay like that for what seems like a long time, but it may have only been a minute or two. My sobs slowly reduce to sniffles, and I pull back to wipe my eyes and look at him. It still hurts, and I’m afraid I may start crying all over again, so I look away. “I’m sorry about that. I had a horrible dream, and it overwhelmed me,” I say, reaching for a tissue.
He watches me for a moment then asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “I don’t want to live it again.” I get out of the bed self-consciously, and give him a weak smile on my way to the bathroom. I’m sure I look awful. Looking in the mirror I almost groan out loud. My hair looks like I could have something living in it. Bed head is always so sexy in the movies. My face is red and swollen from sleep and crying. I look like crap.
And he looked so brave and handsome running into my room like a knight to the rescue. He was undeniably handsome with that sword drawn.
And I look like this. Great.
I walk out of the bathroom and Gabe is gone, most likely giving me privacy to get ready for the day. Such a gentleman and so like Gabe.
I dress in black yoga pants and a lavender t-shirt that says ‘Lucky’ in white letters on it. I fight my hair into a high pony and throw on some mascara. Time for coffee and some breakfast.
I walk out of the bedroom to find Gabe has coffee ready, and he’s making breakfast for us. I might miss my freedom lately, but I do love having an attractive man make breakfast for me. Actually, coffee is the sexy part. Breakfast is a bonus.
Unfortunately, I’m going to see that scene from my dream each time I look at him. Each time I look at his face it’s like a punch in the stomach. This is going to be a difficult day.
***
Over breakfast Gabe presents me with a six-inch dagger that looks like an expensive antique one would admire in a museum. Knowing his family history now, I don’t doubt that it’s priceless.
The blade is razor sharp, narrow, and double-edged. Wrapped in leather, the handle is small, and may have been designed for a woman. Looking at the dagger conjures up thoughts of a strong female warrior. I don’t know why. It looks like a wicked feminine blade. It’s scary-looking but lovely at the same time.
Taking the dagger from him, I test it in my hand. It’s surprisingly light as air. I gently touch the blade and manage to cut myself. I pull my fingers back with surprise. Gabe is smiling at me. He knew I’d do that. I squint my eyes at him.
“It’s incredibly sharp and beautifully wicked,” I say, and he seems pleased with my description.
“It was my mother’s. And her mother’s before that, and so on, and so on…” He looks at the blade lovingly.
I’m totally caught off guard by the importance of this dagger to him.
“Is your family going to kill you twice for loaning me this family heirloom, Gabe?” I ask, giving him a serious once-over look.
I’m trying to hide my growing concern for his casual habit of breaking deadly family rules. Does he have a death wish? I’m starting to wonder.