Discern (Discern Saga, Book #1)

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Discern (Discern Saga, Book #1) Page 33

by Samantha Shakespeare


  “I know how you feel.” His warm hand wiped away all my tears in one swipe. “At any moment, I fear you’ll decide that this is too much for you to handle. All the centuries of pain that I once endured because of your absence come to mind, and I never want to go through that again. But even if I knew today that you’d walk away someday, I wouldn’t regret this time we have, for every minute I’m with you is worth all the pain that I’ve ever suffered,” he said breathlessly. “I don’t want to leave you for any amount of time, but understand that I must in order to secure our future.” His voice quivered ever so slightly.

  “I’d never leave you.”

  “I hope not,” he smiled gently.

  “I think you underestimate my love and commitment to you.” I cracked a slight smile.

  “Wow, this is not what I expected tonight.”

  “Me either.”

  “Are we good now?”

  “Yes, I was never upset with you, just worried.”

  “Are you worried now?”

  “No, I’m good.” I faked a smile, but the worries were still there—they probably always would be.

  “Can I ask something of you while I’m gone?” His voice deepened.

  The mood suddenly changed. “Yes,” I said warily.

  “I can’t ask you stay hidden in your house for the next few days, but can you please stay close to home as much as possible?” His voice filled with concern and hope that I would agree.

  “I have to close up at the shelter Saturday evening, but other than that, I don’t have any real plans now that you’re going to be gone,” I sulked slightly.

  “Why do you have to close up the shelter?”

  “Ryan and his mother are going to Denver that night for some charity event.”

  “When did this occur?” he asked stunned.

  “Ryan texted me yesterday and asked if I could.”

  “And you think my telepathic abilities are frustrating,” he smiled. “Your phone buzzes so often that I never know what’s going on.”

  I never thought Andrew would be jealous of my phone, but he was hard to read sometimes. “I guess that’s fair.”

  “I’m not keen on the fact that you’re going to the shelter alone. I might not like Ryan, but he’s a big enough guy to be a deterrent,” he said with worry.

  “There’ll be other workers there that night.”

  “If you’re trying to reassure me, it’s not working,” he said, rolling his beautiful emerald eyes.

  “I tried.”

  It was comforting to see his eyes back to normal and all was well with us once again.

  “I have something for you.” His voice softened.

  He slid his hand underneath his tight, dark green shirt. Although any woman would agree that what was under his shirt was definitely a gift—he had never once been conceited about his appearance. He pulled out an old, dirty peach-colored book. The cover had no writing on the outside. The pages were tattered on the edges and its appearance gave the distinct look of being hundreds of years old, if not older.

  He lightly set the book down on my lap. “What is it?” I asked.

  “I wanted to give you something to do while I was gone to keep your mind occupied and keep you here at home safe,” he smiled.

  “Homework?” I asked in disbelief.

  He let out a light chuckle. “No,” he said. “It’s one of my journals from the time after I lost you. I wanted you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this never happens again, and I’m very pleased with my decision now after our conversation tonight.” His smile slowly faded.

  “You don’t have to let me read this.”

  “I know, but I wanted you to know why I have to leave and to ease any worry of me not returning to you,” he said. “Had I known that you were really this worried, I would’ve brought another one of my journals written during the last time you were alive, but I feared you might get jealous of my feelings for her—even though she is you and you are her. But I do understand that this is still hard to accept.”

  Reading about his love for her would have been upsetting—he was right to believe so, but reading about his mourning over her death wouldn’t be much better.

  “This is enough,” I said, waving the book slightly. I did not want to offend him by expressing my apprehension of reading through his thoughts and feelings about her death. His gift was only to reassure me of his love and dedication to our future together.

  Midnight was nearing. He had not given the exact time of his departure, but I figured it was soon.

  “Do you have to leave?”

  “Yes,” he inhaled deeply.

  We both gazed in one another’s eyes. His sparkling emerald eyes darkened back in to black, faceted diamonds.

  “I’ll miss you,” I whispered as I choked back the tears.

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  He set me on his lap. I sighed heavily as I knew our last kiss, if only for a few days, was nearing. I closed my eyes and our lips gently pressed against one another’s. Our lips parted. The kiss started off reserved, but as soon as a rhythm set in, our guard fell and so did our reservations.

  My breathing became heavy as our lips smashed against one another’s. His hands pushed against my back forcing me closer to his body. His lips left mine as he lightly brushed them along my jawbone.

  His body shifted underneath mine. I was no longer on his lap. I was now laying on my back with his body arched over mine. His lips moved from my jawbone down to the side of my neck. Chills ran across my body as his hair gently tickled my ear.

  My breathing became uneven and ragged as I panicked a little, wondering where his lips would go next. But as usual, Andrew resisted. He slid his lips along the other side of my neck and back to my jawbone.

  His lips softly moved back onto mine and resumed where we had left off. He kept his body arched, careful not to lean too hard onto mine. We both knew that his massive strength could potentially crush my bones if he were not careful.

  He pulled his lips from mine. I opened my eyes to find him still arched over me staring intensely.

  “You don’t understand how hard this is for me,” he sighed heavily.

  “I do.”

  His eyes searched mine for a few seconds. He slowly leaned down and lightly placed his lips against mine for one last, quick kiss. He slid his knees off the bed and stood up. He extended his hand and pulled me from the bed.

  I could not interpret the expression upon his face as he adjusted his clothing. I straightened out my top and watched his every move. He retrieved a small black bag from the corner of the room. I hadn’t noticed it when I came rushing in earlier.

  He set the bag on the bed. He pulled my body in, pressing it against his once more.

  “Please try to stay in as much as possible,” he mentioned one last time.

  “I will,” I promised.

  Our lips met once more for another brief kiss. No matter how slight the touch, the sparks never failed to amaze me.

  “I love you.” My voice cracked.

  “And I love you,” he said, turning away from me.

  “Goodbye,” I sighed heavily, bracing for his quick departure.

  “Oh, by the way…” His voice was light as he casually turned back around.

  “Yes?”

  “Your mother never stopped truly loving you, and she had no intention of abandoning you either. She was influenced by the drugs she took,” he said softly, reaching out his hand and caressing my cheek.

  “Yes, I realize that, and that’s just it. Anyone can become addicted to them, and eventually go mad and stop caring,” I grimaced.

  “Not true,” he said with an uneven smile.

  “How so?”

  “I can’t become addicted to any substance,” he said smugly.

  “And why not?” My brow arched.

  “It’s easy. I’m not human so I have no blood or any other bodily fluids flowing through my body; therefore, nothing can affect a bloods
tream that I don’t possess,” he explained.

  I was intrigued and slightly horrified all at the same time. “But drugs affect brain function, too,” I challenged.

  His smug grin widened. “I don’t possess a brain either. I can’t be affected by any substance.”

  My lips parted. He lightly placed his long, warm finger over them, stopping me from speaking. “Your next question was written all over your face.”

  “That figures,” I grumbled.

  “It’s cute,” he grinned.

  “So what was I going to say?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

  “A brain is constructed of tissues, which need oxygen and blood to perform. I don’t have blood, nor do I need oxygen, and those tissues eventually die—therefore, I couldn’t be immortal if I possessed a brain or tissue.”

  “Then…,” I stopped as I saw his lips move.

  “The system I possess is similar to an electrical one—one without all the flaws of human electricity,” he smirked.

  “So that’s why I feel the sparks of electricity when we touch,” I smiled slightly; relieved I actually was starting to understand something in our relationship.

  He shook his head. “I told you before, no other mortal, I mean human, can feel them. Not even in your previous life could you,” he reminded.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “There’s something truly amazing about you, and, please, don’t doubt my commitment to you,” he smiled.

  “I don’t feel truly amazing.”

  “You may not feel it, but you are,” he smiled again. He gently kissed the top of my head and pulled me into his body for one last embrace. “I’ll be back soon.” His voice was soft.

  “It’s going to be a long few days,” I sighed heavily.

  “I know,” he agreed. “I must go now.”

  “Goodbye,” I whispered.

  “Goodbye.”

  He adjusted the black bag upon his shoulder and winked one last time before disappearing. I was now alone…truly alone. The house hadn’t felt this empty since my mother’s death. I flopped down on my bed preparing to scan through the television programs when I noticed Andrew’s journal out of the corner of my eye.

  I reluctantly scooped up the journal from its resting place. The book had a faint smell similar to Andrew’s alluring and intoxicating scent. His smell had always been exhilarating, but I had been far more interested in his other attributes to pay it much attention. I gently pressed the book to my nose and inhaled his sweet, musky scent.

  I softly let my head fall back onto the pillows. I held his journal up above my face contemplating upon whether to open it and read the contents of his inner most struggles with another woman’s death. Knowing that she and I supposedly shared the same soul, and I was a reincarnation of her, gave no solace.

  I feared that he envisioned her every time we were close—as if he was kissing her lips and caressing her body. He might have reassured me just moments ago that his love was genuine and nothing mattered more than me, but somehow I still imagined him only doing this because of the love he had felt for her.

  It wasn’t a feeling of being unworthy of his love, but more that she and I seemed to have nothing in common with one another. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply trying to stop these negative thoughts from continuing.

  His feeling of love was different from humans. He could see and feel things that we could not; so expecting to understand his ability to read souls was preposterous. My guard had a nasty habit of showing up when things got complicated or difficult to deal with.

  My insecurities weren’t present when we were together; but just knowing he would be gone for days, made it impossible to keep them at bay. I definitely needed a hobby to get me through these next few days—a hobby that kept me inside the safe confines of home.

  There was only one hobby that I could think of that would meet this condition. I stuffed another pillow behind my head for extra support. Knots were forming in my stomach as I gently bit down on my lower lip, flipping open the cover of Andrew’s journal. It was going to be a long weekend.

  ~~~*~~~

  I woke up to a sunless afternoon with his journal resting on my chest. I wouldn’t have realized it was afternoon if I hadn’t seen the large, green numbers of my clock facing directly at me. It was nearly three in the afternoon, but I wasn’t too upset as I had nothing of importance to do today.

  I stretched my arms and legs as I rose from the bed. I had to sit still for a few seconds, as I felt a little lightheaded. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. I needed something to eat, but I feared what food, if any, was downstairs in the kitchen. I hadn’t been shopping in a couple of weeks, and I seriously doubted that my father had either.

  I carefully stood up and stumbled downstairs, rubbing my eyes so I could focus easier on the presumably empty pantry. The house was quiet and still. There were no chirping birds outside as they had left weeks ago to warmer, sunnier places.

  I quickly realized how different my life would be if I hadn’t walked in on Braden’s cheating ways. I would still be in California, studying hard to graduate early and planning a picturesque wedding, oblivious to the plan of destroying mankind by a few immortal creatures that walked amongst us.

  I shook my head and walked briskly across the floor to the pantry. Before I opened the door, I noticed a piece of folded paper with my name on the outside taped to it. I ripped the paper off, almost tearing the corner, and opened it up.

  Sweetie,

  I took the liberty of stopping off at the grocery store before I left. I don’t know how much you will be at home, but I hope you spend some time here and hopefully you’re alone and not with that guy. I think his name is Andrew, not sure. Please meet me for lunch on Monday, as I would like to spend time with you everyday. I think we need it. I love you.

  Dad

  P. S. You look like you have lost some weight so please eat something. I hope you aren’t dieting for this guy. Love you.

  I set the note aside and opened the pantry door anticipating some tasty treats, since he had noticed my slight weight loss. It wasn’t as if I was trying to lose weight, it was completely unintentional. If my father knew why, he would be horrified.

  The pantry was filled with many of my childhood favorites. Normally, I would have been irritated with his inability to recognize that I wasn’t a child anymore, but he and I hadn’t spent much time together since then, so it was no fault of his. My sudden departure at seventeen hadn’t allowed him the chance to adjust to my adulthood.

  Deciding on the chocolate chip cookie cereal, I pulled out a bowl from the cabinet above and hoped there was milk to go along with it. I had almost forgotten about the cold floor as I opened the refrigerator door. There sat a fresh gallon of milk, and a smile spread across my face. No matter how I felt about my dad’s dating decision, he was a really good father; and I needed to appreciate him more.

  I filled the bowl over halfway with cookie cereal and the rest with milk. I grabbed a spoon and sprinted up the stairs, careful not to spill any on the floor. I took a left turn toward my father’s bedroom to see what the thermostat was set on.

  No wonder the floor had been cold. It was a cool sixty-five degrees in the house. I set the temperature to a nice toasty warm seventy-three degrees and made my way back down the hall to my bedroom.

  My father would have been upset with me just eating breakfast a little after three in the afternoon, but he wasn’t here, so I didn’t have to explain about my long night of reading my immortal boyfriend’s journal from thousands of years ago.

  I positioned myself on the bed with several pillows behind my body and began spooning the small, crunchy cookie pieces into my mouth. They weren’t as good as I remembered, but they were still appetizing enough to continue eating.

  I remembered most of what I had read last night, or shall I say earlier this morning, but I hadn’t really gotten to the part of her death yet. He was mostly describing about his time away at battle and how he longed to
be near her once more.

  It was exactly what I was worried about reading. It brought on a little jealousy. I could not imagine Andrew would have enjoyed reading about how I missed Braden when I was away at school in California, but I knew this was different—this is how he felt about me now. But a part of me secretly hoped he loved me more than her, as he had once said before. It was a selfish need as she and I shared the same soul, but I needed this reassurance after the horrible experiences that love had thrown my way.

  I shoveled the last bite of cookies into my mouth and set the bowl of sloshing milk aside on my nightstand. I reached for the journal from underneath my comforter. I flipped open to the page where I had left off and began carefully processing each word he wrote.

  Understanding each sentence could be difficult at times. I assumed he had translated the journal in English for me, as I had studied the ancient Greeks and knew they did not speak this language. I imagined him simply opening the book and suddenly all the words were translated to English, as that was probably one of his many abilities. My mother had translated the other journal that allegedly was his father’s. That was one of the main reasons why I had never read the book.

  His words were harsh at times about his siblings, as he seemed to feel anger about their unwillingness to fight in wars. He was always expected to lead the missions and command the troops while the rest of them gathered together in luxury. His bitter feelings toward his family hadn’t changed since then. I wondered if he felt the same bitterness as he completed this mission and if the others were really doing the same thing—or was the dirty work left to him.

  I finally reached the spot where he was returning home from war. His harsh words now faded to a much softer tone as he anticipated seeing her. Her warm, beautiful brown eyes and dark, olive skin called to him on his journey back home. His hands would soon caress her wavy, dark brown hair, which had the fragrance of vanilla.

  He spoke of the sparks he felt when they touched, but was saddened that she could not feel them. He knew if she could feel them, she would understand how much that he and she were destined to be, as he had never felt these sparks with any mortal or immortal. Her once dull brown eyes were now that of sparkling, smoky quartz stones that reminded him how his touch had changed her.

 

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