by Anne Violet
Finally she turned back to me, a strange gentle look on her face. “Have you ever wondered how you seemed to just know things? Like that time we were driving down Meridian Avenue and you made me suddenly pull over and within seconds of that, that drunk driver plowed through the lane we were just in? Or how, sometimes you know what someone is going to say or do before they do?”
I was confused, weren’t we just talking about Ireland? For the sake of argument I addressed her question at hand. “I just know. It’s so obvious.”
She looked at me very intently and I could almost hear a command in her voice. “Did you ever wonder if it is only obvious to you for a reason?”
“What do you mean?” My meal was forgotten now.
She interlaced her fingers on the table and leaned forward. “Maybe you have a gift.”
I leaned back into my chair, away from her and her strange ideas as I could get. “What are you trying to say?” I could hear the alarm in my voice.
“You know what type of spirituality our family practices.”
I gave a slight nod of my head, “of course, Druidism. I know I have kind of stepped away lately but-”
“Stop right there. I am not trying to guilt you…” she said gently. “I know you have had a hard time at school lately because Nicolas took advantage of people’s misconceptions about our spirituality. That’s not the issue.”
“What is the issue then?” I asked.
“Some of us have gifts and more importantly I think yours will be stronger than most,” she replied quietly.
Lurching up from my chair, I gave her a look, like I thought she was mental. “Are you trying to tell me you think I am some kind of Psychic?”
“Alexis,” she said calmly while watching me pace back and forth in her small kitchen. “I don’t know exactly what gift you have or will have. I am only certain that you have one. Not everyone in our family does, your father doesn’t. It is not something you can escape, it just is.”
She was serious. I felt both afraid and angry. I stopped and glared at her. “I don’t want to know what goes bump in the night and I definitely don’t want to see dead people.”
She got up and came over to hug me but I pulled away. “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m leaving.”
I was out the door before she took another step. I didn’t want to hear another ridiculous word. I contemplated telling my mom but decided that would only start some family feud, but maybe I should tell my dad that his mother should be institutionalized. On the ride home I felt frustrated at the sixty mph that I had to do most of the way, when what I really wanted to do was about one hundred twenty, maybe one hundred fifty. I couldn’t believe she thought I had some magic power. Just because I had good instincts and was more observant than most people did not mean I had some mystical gift. I needed to shake this off. I didn’t want to ruin my date with Christian worrying about this nonsense.
Once off the freeway and almost back in Steilacoom, I started to calm down. She had obviously been reading too many Irish folk tale novels or spending too much time with her Druidic Grove. Next time I saw her I would have to bring some good old-fashioned true life murder mysteries. That should help. I was glad that Christian and I had arranged to meet at Saltar’s Point. I needed to relax for a couple minutes before our date. Maybe even meditate a little.
After parking, going down and finding my usual spot, I took off my coat, laid it over the gravel and relaxed back against the driftwood. Taking a deep breath in and exhaling, I felt the same peace I always felt in Steilacoom. It was too peaceful and lovely to feel miserable for long. I was deeply appreciative that even though it wasn’t a sunny day, at least it wasn’t raining.
Feeling inspired, I pulled out my 35mm camera when I noticed one of the ferries making its usual leisurely trip across the water to Anderson Island. Which like most islands in the Puget Sound, rose gently from the water and was covered by so many tall fir trees that it was a wonder that there was any room for houses and streets. I could hear the crunch of gravel as someone approached but I kept snapping pictures figuring it would still be too early for Christian to arrive. When suddenly a pair of dark jeans were in my way.
I panned with my camera all the way up the muscular body until I got to his stunning face and took the shot. “Hi,” I breathed, letting my eyes travel up and down his length a couple times. He had a blanket slung over one shoulder and a bag over the other. He looked adorable in the most casual look that I had seen him in yet, a dark, plaid button up shirt, over a deep blue t-shirt and jeans with hiking boots. The urge to jump up and plaster myself against him waxed strong. It must have shown on my face too because his eyes seemed to darken and become heavy lidded. Good Lord, help me. I think I am going to jump him.
CHAPTER 3
I watched helplessly as one of the sexiest smiles that has ever graced any man, slowly spread across his face. “You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”
“No,” I murmured, pulling myself together enough to stand up so he could lay the blanket down.
As soon as we had settled in, Christian started pulling a bunch of Tupperware containers out of the bag and laying them out on the blanket. He had thought of everything, drinks, silverware, napkins.
“You cook?” I asked, trying to contain my surprise.
He glanced at me, his lips quirking. “You don’t?”
“Ah…no,” I admitted.
He raised a brow at this but made no comment. I opened one of the Tupperware containers nearest me, it was hot and condensation was already forming on the lid, a delicious smell emanating from it, “Beef Stroganoff? That’s-- like one of my favorite dishes. Are you sure you made this?”
He actually looked mildly offended. “My grandmother taught me how to cook, thank you very much.” I could tell he was fighting the urge to smile now and so I knew I was forgiven.
“Do you see your grandparents much?”
His smile faded and his brows drew together. “I live with them. My parents died a couple of years ago.” He stopped eating and turned to stare out at the water, a multitude of emotions crossing his face. One emotion in particular caught my attention. Was it…guilt? Damn, I was a terrible date. Only I could have the luck to stumble across something so painful. I wanted to see that glorious smile again.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. He looked back at me and I watched as his eyes seemed to pore over my face. His lips started to turn back up in a smile.
“You really are ridiculously beautiful. You know that, don’t you?”
I liked the way the compliment had seemed to just burst from him, like he couldn’t even help it. “I think the same about you.”
While the smile still resided on his lips I could see his perfect straight brows had pulled together again. “What?” I demanded.
“Beautiful is a word to describe a woman not a man.”
I almost laughed. I couldn’t believe it. Most guys would love that a woman thought they were so gorgeous that they rated as beautiful. And here was Christian, who was on the verge of being so beautiful it should be illegal, thought it was an insult. “I only meant you are so masculine-ly handsome that you’re beautiful.”
“You’re forgiven,” he laughed.
Neither of us seemed hungry anymore so we packed up the food and then laid down on our backs, both of us looking up at the sky. I closed my eyes and concentrated on enjoying the moment. I could hear the gentle lapping of the water on the shore, the happy laughter of a family further down the beach, the wind gently ruffling my hair and the even breathing of Christian who was laying so close to me. I thanked god he wasn’t one of those guys that seemed to bathe in cologne. I had to inhale deeply to smell it. I considered asking him the name of it and then decided not to, I liked the mystery. Abruptly, I felt his hands underneath my arms and he flipped me over so that the upper half of my body was laying on top of him. I couldn’t hide my amazement.
“Is this all right?” he queried, softly.
“Yeah,” I sighed, f
olding my arms across his firm chest. He felt perfect and for awhile we just indulged in a little mutual admiration. Finally, I closed my eyes, rested my chin on my arms and let the feelings of happiness and security wash over me. I did feel safe with him and--complete. It was nice.
A moment later, I felt the warmth of his hands as he gently sunk them into the lengths of my hair. He started with a slight massage at my scalp and then slowly he drew his hands through to the ends of my hair, only to start the process over again. Without even thinking I found myself leaning in towards his touch. “Mmm…that feels good.”
I finally opened my eyes to gaze at him and felt my heart melt. There was such a soft tenderness in his dark eyes. My stomach felt all aflutter and I could hear how fast my heart was beating.
His hands still deep in my hair, he cradled the back of my head and looked intently into my eyes. “You look like a little cat. Are you sure you’re not purring?”
I finally let loose the giddy smile that he always inspired and watched with pleasure as he smiled back. Eventually his eyes drifted to his hand where he was slowly winding a tendril of my hair around his finger. He seemed fascinated by the different red tones in it.
“You have the softest hair, what do you use?” he breathed.
“It’s a state secret. I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.”
His head jerked back to gape at me and then he started to laugh. His chest was moving up and down so much he almost dislodged me. I was completely charmed though, glad that I could make him so happy. I had a feeling he wasn’t naturally so light-hearted. I decided right here and now, that I would always try to put a smile on his face. There were some things I was curious about though. “Christian, I don’t want to hurt your feelings-- but why haven’t I seen you around before?”
He glanced away then looked back up at me considering. He sighed. “I was in rehab for awhile.”
I tried not to react. I didn’t want him to think I judged him in any way, but I was pretty shocked. There was nothing about him that suggested he was an addict or an alcoholic.
“I’m sorry; I keep asking the wrong questions.” I started to get up but his arms held me down.
“No,” he breathed, “I want you to know.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out. “When my parents died… I didn’t handle it well. I looked for any escape I could. I was pretty good at hiding it, no one knew.”
I watched as he swallowed hard. It was obviously more difficult to talk about than he was trying to let on. “I knew it was getting out of hand though, doing things-- I could never take back. Worst of all, I knew how disappointed they would be if they knew. So I checked myself in.”
Softly I ran my hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”
He arched a brow at me. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”
I decided to change the subject; I didn’t like seeing him so sad, like he felt unworthy of me or something. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, relaxed again.
“Why aren’t you worried about the rumors about me?” I was sure he had heard them.
That softness resided in his eyes again as he gazed at me. “You mean about you stalking your ex?” his tone was full of disbelief.
“That’s one of them,” I murmured. Without warning, he rolled me onto my back; the hand of his arm he was leaning on was cupping my head while his other hand was holding my waist, slowly drawing circles with his thumb. All thought completely drained from my head. The way he looked at me told me he knew exactly what I was feeling. His expression darkened as he continued to gaze at me. “I saw how he was following you from class to class… the arguments. I was ready to step in at the slightest sign that you needed it but you always handled it.” I saw admiration fill his gaze. “How did you get him to finally stop and drop out of school?”
I thought back upon that time and felt the same feelings of fear and uncertainty sweep through my body all over again. I felt myself start to tremble and I wrapped my arms tight around Christian and pulled him down over me until I was sure I had disappeared from sight.
Both of his hands came up to cradle my face. “Alexis,” he breathed.
I could tell he wanted me to look up but I didn’t feel I had it together enough yet to do that. I stayed tucked into his neck and shoulder, breathing his cologne deeply, to calm myself.
“Alexis,” it was almost a command. He gently but firmly lifted my head up to meet his eyes. “You are mine now, I am not going to let anything happen to you.” He didn’t say it softly and his eyes as they looked in mine were fierce, but this reassured me probably better than anything else could.
I slowly loosened the death grip I had had around his waist and enjoyed the feeling of his weight pressing into me, one of his thighs between mine.
“What about the other rumor?” I could tell I had caught him off guard by changing the subject but he went along with it.
His mouth turned wry. “Devil worship?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t, you know,” I assured him.
He gave me a look like I should have known better. “I didn’t think you did. It should be obvious to anyone with a brain in their head that he was trying to slander you.”
“True,” I agreed.
He reluctantly lifted off of me and pulled us both up to sitting positions just as a couple walked by. The woman kind of giggled as she noticed us. I felt like my enchantment was probably written all over my face.
“So what do you worship?” he mused, gazing up from under his lashes.
What could I say? It was kind of a touchy subject. Most people didn’t understand. That was why I never bothered countering the rumors. The average person knew so little about Druids or any of the pagan beliefs. Pagans didn’t even believe in the devil which would make it kind of hard for them to worship him. But if Christian was going to have a problem with my family’s spiritual beliefs I would rather know now than later.
I looked at him almost challengingly. “A sort of Druidism.”
His brows lifted. “Really?” he started to smile mischievously. “I could see you as a nature worshipper, dancing around a fire, flowers in your hair.”
I laughed at his romanticized vision, and then realized he wasn’t far from the truth. “So you aren’t freaked out or anything?”
He reached over and took my hands in his. “No, I’m half Irish myself. Before my mom’s parents died they used to tell me all the folk tales and myths of ancient Ireland. “Me too, except it’s my father’s side of the family.” I felt hope winding through me. He really didn’t have a problem with it. “Do you believe?”
While he rubbed my hands with his, trying to warm them up, he seemed to be considering his answer. “Well…both my parents were actually Catholics. My grandparents that I live with were born and bred Italian Catholics. So I have heard both sides. I guess I still haven’t really decided yet.”
I nodded; he was in a difficult spot. Luckily for me, my mom didn’t really practice any particular religion so she was pretty open, and my dad, while growing up around Druidism, had chosen not to practice it. “Did your mom’s parents live in Ireland?”
“No, they had lived in California.”
“Oh.” I had a thought. “Would you like to go for a ride on my bike?”
I was definitely rewarded for that. A huge boyish smile crossed his face.
“Yeah, where can we go to really ride it?”
“My grandmother has a couple of acres in Graham. She won’t even know we’re there. There is a back road onto her property.”
“Sounds good, I’ll just run this stuff up to my house and get my helmet.”
“You have a bike?” I asked excitedly as I helped him shake out and fold the blanket.
“I did when I was in California but I sold it before I came here,” there was a touch of sadness in his voice.
“Have you thought about getting another one?”
He smiled at my eagernes
s. “Maybe I will.”
Hand in hand we walked up to the parking lot. I felt that same stupid grin, threatening to explode again. I avoided meeting his gaze as we walked to my bike; I was sure I was on the verge of giggling like a 12 year old with her first crush, any minute.
“I will meet you back down here in a minute.”
“How close do you live?”
“Do you know the big, two-story, white house up the street?”
“That’s yours? I have walked by that a ton of times.”
He smiled and shrugged. “See you in a minute.”
In definite admiration I watched as he quickly ran up the couple hundred feet to his house. I couldn’t believe I had never seen him before. My house wasn’t that far from here. Well, better late than never. I threw on a scarf and gloves, glad that I had brought them with me. It was going to be pretty cold driving down the interstate. I smiled to myself looking forward to sitting behind him, my arms wrapped tight around him. Since patience wasn’t a quality I had in great supply. I put on my helmet and rode up to meet him. He was already standing outside, his thumb out as he saw me ride up. I couldn’t stop smiling. No man should look that good. In a black leather jacket and boots he looked--dangerous.
I flipped my visor up. “Mmm-hmm…I don’t usually pick up strangers, but for you I think I can make an exception.”
I got off my bike and waited for him to swing on in front.
He put his helmet on. “You drive.”
That surprised the heck out of me. Almost every boy I knew would just about die to drive my bike. “Alright,” I shrugged. “But it’s not going to be very comfortable and you better hold on real tight.”
“Don’t worry, that was part of the plan.”
When he sat down behind me in the tiny space that was available, he slipped his hands underneath my jacket and slightly under my sweater so he was touching my bare skin. His fingers splayed out as he slowly moved them from my back to my stomach until they crossed over each other and then he pulled us together-- tight. I shuddered a little with the desire that never seemed to be that far away when I was with him. I should’ve been freezing as we drove through the night, but with his warm body pressed tightly from our thighs up, I felt downright toasty.