Will was silent for a moment, his mind processing. He was not the type to be known for being poignant or graceful with his words. As such, it warmed Sophie's heart to know he was taking great care in selecting his words.
"The thing is, kid," he finally said, "panpi have it wrong. They interpret immortals of having a long, slow life. They assume that because we live forever, life is slow rather than the quickness of a normal human life. And that's bullshit. We view life as quick because we see people born, grow up, and die constantly. Panpi have no concept of what that means. They assume our longevity on this planet equals slow. Boring. But if anything, our long life just reinforces the notion of living life to the fullest, appreciating every moment with your loved one. Enjoy your life in every moment. Find a piece of what's good and go on to it, so when the bad times come, and they will, you're holding on to something worthwhile."
Sophie smiled. "I'm holding on to you," she pointed out. She watched as Will's cheeks were tainted pink, and her smile turned crooked. "Are you blushing again?"
"If you don't shut your mouth, I'm going to shut it for you," Will growled, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement.
She raised her brows. "Is that a promise?" she whispered.
Will leaned his head back onto hers so their foreheads touched. "Don't do that to me, kid," he breathed out, his eyes closed. "You're playing with fire."
Sophie's eyes darkened at the sight of Will before her, and she couldn't help but lick her lips. The fact that he reacted this way because of her made her tummy resort to flips, like a graceful trapeze artist. She had no idea she had this much power over him, and she realized just how much she enjoyed it. She liked being able to affect him in this way because he most definitely did the same to her.
Before she could respond, she heard Ethan clear his throat in order to get everyone's attention. Sophie decided now was the appropriate time to head back to the crowd; she had had her space, she had had a good cry. Now, she could refocus on what needed to be done. As they made their way back, she noticed more people were there; most she recognized, a few she didn't. The rest of the search party had returned, then. From the amount of people that were there, it didn't look as though they lost anyone or anyone was injured. That was something to be thankful for.
Once Ethan had everyone’s attention and base was silent, he spoke. "Jared and the search party have all returned, as you can see," he began. "We have been given the all clear. Classes were supposed to start tomorrow, but I'm postponing them in lieu of the events that took place today.
"What took place today was an act of violence. The motive for this violence is still unfounded, and I refuse to make any assumptions. I will not create more fear, more panic, because that would cause chaos, and uncontrolled chaos will turn into violence. This is fact, and I refuse to be a part of it, or to allow you to be a part of it.
"It is only human to want to defend yourself and your peers. It is only human to let your emotions guide your actions. You know that here, we welcome the use of our emotions because your thoughts and how you feel about those thoughts create your reality, which means you are in control of your destiny. Life doesn't happen to you; you happen to life. This attack that occurred has taught us a valuable lesson about the academy's safety. It's also taught us that the few panpi who know of our existence may not handle that information respectively. Now, that's not to say that all panpi are like this. We cannot close ourselves off from possibly allowing humanity to know about us on a grand scale. This isn't the place for that discussion.
"To get back on track, we are providing complimentary immediate transportation back home for any student who requests it. We will also make phones available for anyone who wishes to contact their families directly. Once classes resume, we will notify everyone immediately and arrange transportation at that time. Construction on the academy will commence immediately. Does anyone have any questions?" When no one said anything, Ethan nodded once. "Good. Everyone is free to leave. If you find you do have questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to reach out. Thank you."
Sophie didn’t hesitate. She was ready to go.
16
Jane's exam was quick and public. Dr. Kessler was as grouchy as ever, poking and prodding her without caring if he was actually hurting her or not. She wasn't too bothered by it; clearly he had been worried about Brielle, but once he saw her walk in base with Will's wolf form, his shoulders visibly relaxed.
"I can't check your scars," he told her, and genuine regret tainted his tone. "Not here. But it's imperative you visit me either later today or tomorrow to make sure you don't have an infection. If you've been unconscious the last seven days and no one cleaned the cuts or changed your bandages, plus you haven't showered, you run the risk of contracting something. We need to make sure we stay on top of it." He paused. "Other than that, though, you're fine. At least on the surface."
Jane almost smirked at the comment. He thought she was mentally unstable due to all the trauma she'd been through the past couple of weeks. If only it were that simple. The thing was, she wasn't traumatized. Or, maybe she was and she was in complete denial. Her mind refused to acknowledge what had happened to her, because if she did that, she knew for a fact she would have a breakdown, and that was the last thing she needed right now. She needed to stay strong, both mentally and emotionally, if she was ever going to reach the other side of what was becoming a very long tunnel.
"Thank you," she told him, and she meant it. The fact that he was there to check on her and to keep her medical secrets was a relief. It meant she didn't have to hold on to things by herself, that she had some validation in her incomprehensible feelings, that she wasn't crazy. He nodded once and stepped away, giving her privacy with Daryl.
Throughout the entire exam, Daryl did not say a word. Instead, his eyes focused on every move the doctor made, every touch, every linger. Not because he was protective or jealous, but because Daryl was intent to figuring out if she was all right as well. Jane had no clue as to what happened to her the week she was unconscious, which meant anything could have happened to her and no one would know. Daryl wanted to ensure nothing had happened to her.
The thought made Jane smile. Her eyes caught sight of the faded blank ink that began his cross tattoo, and her insides grinned from ear to ear. She wasn’t even smiling, but her cheeks hurt as though they were. The fact that Daryl had multiple tattoos scattered across his body made her insides thrum with vibration. It probably had to do with the fact that someone as reserved, as by the book as Daryl was, was in complete conflict with someone who stereotypically had a lot of tattoos.
It would appear that Jane appreciated the conflict.
After Ethan dismissed everyone, it was naturally assumed Jane would be staying under Daryl’s supervision. The two didn’t even need to talk about it. It wasn’t up for debate. That was how it would be, and somehow, the two knew. As such, Jane followed Daryl out of base and up to the Aqua Tower. His flat reeked of isolation, up until he had started training Jane with her quis ability. Since then, it had been a haven for them both, a safe place for their feelings to blossom and grow without fear or judgment. It was where Jane considered herself home when she was at the academy, the only place she felt truly secure.
The air was cool and crisp. It bit Jane's skin, making her skin turn red. She didn't mind it. In fact, she preferred the cold to the heat, despite the element attached to her birthday. She was a fire sign, and had a temper to boot, but the cold kept her awake, focused. It made her want to get up and run when she would prefer to sit around and be lazy. If they were anywhere else, she would have risked holding his hand. The cold also provided the perfect backdrop for romance. Summer loving might have been classic, but Jane preferred the long, cold days of winter to start a kindling of something new.
Daryl unlocked the door and opened it. Jane slipped in. She still wore the blue dress from the gala. Her skin was cut and bruised. Her hair was a nest at best. She had been cleared by Kessler, but he wa
s right; she needed to care for her injury or else an infection would spring up, if one hadn't done so already.
"You look like you need a bath," he told her from the doorway. The door was shut behind him, and though he wasn't leaning against it, it appeared as though he wasn't going to move quite yet from his current position.
That was okay with Jane. She understood. The two had kissed—again—but they had no time to process what happened and what it meant until now. Her heart hammered against her chest, causing ripples in her bones. She was almost afraid to speak, as though she didn't quite trust him not to break her heart again after the last time they kissed.
"You can use mine," he continued, and nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom.
Jane almost skipped with excitement. Ever since she first used Daryl's restroom, she had been dying to enjoy a bath in the jacuzzi style tub. It was big enough to fit two people comfortably, which mean it would be heaven for her since she would be by herself. When she stepped in, she noticed two sinks, an array of blue towels that lived on the silver towel racks, and hotel-size shampoos, conditioners, and body washes. Jane paused for a moment, taking in the sight. These flats were built for two, in case RH Directors wanted to have families. Daryl had been alone for centuries and had yet to settle down. If that wasn't the definition of tragic, Jane wasn't sure what was.
She leaned over the porcelain tub and turned on the hot water. Her back ached in varying ways, and it tickled at the prospect of being eased into relaxation by hot water. It wasn’t until after she finished undressing and taking the bandages off her clothes did she realize she couldn't clean the wounds by herself. She would need help.
It wasn't as though Daryl hadn't seen her topless before. He had been the one to help her before Michael had taken her. Once she washed her hair and gotten the tangles out, she would call him in to help. For now, however, she was content for the peaceful solitude.
"Daryl."
Daryl sprung up from the couch, nearly tripping over himself in order to get to the bathroom. He spent the entire time trying to think of anything but the fact that she was bathing in his bathtub. And now she was calling his name, needing help or assistance.
He knocked after reaching the bathroom door, and when she gave him permission to enter, he held his breath. His entire physical reaction was ridiculous, and he was relieved no one else was around to witness it. He felt like a schoolboy, to be honest, the way his heart fluttered as he found his voice; the way it sped up in anticipation of seeing her; the way it slowed down when she touched him. She really did have complete control over him, and she was the determining factor in whether he lived or died, what with the fact that she had his heart in her hands. He still couldn't believe what he was feeling; he still couldn't believe it was her who made his feelings react this way. It was like he was an accumulation of bubbles waiting for her lips to blow his feelings every which way. Some would pop, some would float, but she would ultimately be responsible for it all.
Her back was to him with her hair pulled over her right shoulder, leaving her back and neck exposed. God, he could stare at those body parts forever. He saw the beginnings of her scars; they weren't fully healed, and it appeared that she rinsed the wounds out just in time. They were outlined in red with some puss bleeding through.
When she heard him enter, she craned her neck so she could look at him. "Hi," she told him in a contented whisper. Her face flushed, but Daryl couldn't be sure if it was because he was looking at her or if or was because of the steam trapped in the room. Goodness, it was hot. He didn't understand how her skin wasn't melting off in the cauldron that made up the bathtub.
"Hi," he said. His hair was in his face and he had to look at her between the strands.
"I need help washing the cuts," she told him, her voice almost shy. "Do you mind?"
Daryl didn't his trust his voice. Not yet. Instead, he shook his head and took a tentative step forward.
"Thanks," she told him, a soft smile on her face. She shifted her weight so he would have access to her back and looked away.
Daryl swallowed. This was just silly because he had done this for her before. Granted, she hadn't been completely naked, but still. Something was different. Something has changed between them. There was a spark of chemistry that was ignited now. It was surname no longer. Which meant every glance, every touch, every smile, meant something more.
They had kissed. Again.
And it was extraordinary. And he wanted to do it again. And again. And again. He wanted to kiss the back of her neck and the top of her shoulder. He wanted to kiss the base of her spine and the balls of her feet. His wanted to kiss the corner of her lips and the tip of her nose. He wanted to kiss her everywhere.
But he couldn't think about that now. Not when he had to touch her.
He got down on his knees and grabbed cleansing body wash. After rubbing it between his palms, he leaned forward and murmured, "This may hurt."
Whenever his voice was low, he mumbled and his southern accent broke through.
The minutes his hands touched her skin, she hissed and her body tensed. Immediately he stopped, waited until she calmed down, and continued to wait until she finally settled. As he proceeded, the pain seemed to worsen, judging by the wincing, the groaning, the sharp intake of breath. Daryl didn't care. He refused to let her get an infection. She was strong enough to handle the pain anyway.
He finished, and muttered that it was done, before sitting back so she could rinse everything off. He stood, busying himself with towels and putting away the body wash, not knowing if he should stay or go.
"Will you get me a towel?"
Daryl nodded, and then realized she wouldn’t be able to see him. He cleared his throat and muttered something in the affirmative before standing up and grabbing a towel. When he looked back at her, she was already standing, every inch of her naked body dripping wet. His eyes stayed focused on hers, but he could admit that he wanted to look at her form. He wanted to see what she looked like. He wanted to memorize all of her.
But he didn’t. His eyes were fixed on hers, and she carefully exited the tub and stepped onto the towel he held out for her. He wrapped the towel around her frame—she lost weight, he realized; she lost some of her enviable curves—and let his hold on her linger for more time than was appropriate.
“Thank you.”
Jane stepped back from him, her hair dripping all over his bathroom tile. He didn’t particularly care because she looked stunning and much better than she had before. But how she looked didn’t matter as much as that she was here with him, in person and not just in his dreams. He was grateful. He was ready to thank God for her.
“Daryl,” she said, her eyes cast downward, her face still flushed. He watched as she picked her eyes up and looked straight into his, straight through him. “I hate to sound cliché, but we need to talk.”
The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Truth be told, he didn’t want to.
“I love you,” he told her. “What is there to talk about?”
17
When Ethan told everyone they were free to go, Brielle couldn't help but not know what to do. She didn't want to go back home, even if classes were canceled for the time being. She didn't want to deal with her mother, and she definitely wasn't ready to face Phil. Not yet. It was too soon. Even now, her insides churned with guilt, guilt at protecting Cillian and guilt at what would happen to him now that she would no longer protect him. She knew she was welcome to stay on campus at her own risk as well, but she didn't know if she wanted to do that, either. The look Jane had given her during her speech made her stomach twist and turn to the point where she thought she might keel over and throw up. She hated feeling this way, but she also knew she deserved it.
Both Jane and Sophie left with Daryl and Will respectively, leaving her and Kessler alone. Her heart stomped, and she was rooted to her spot, unsure of what to do.
"I'll walk you back."
It was Kess
ler's rumbly voice that cut through her thoughts, and she nodded in his direction. She still didn't trust herself enough to speak.
He led her up the staircase and out of the Ack Building. The campus was quiet and empty; everyone must have returned to their dorms rather quickly. It made Brielle wonder how long she had been standing there.
The night was cold and bitter, and even the weather made Brielle's guilt more aggressive. She felt relieved to have confessed her sins, and now she was punished with uncertainty. Neither Jane nor Sophie had made any comment about their friendship. Hell, she didn't deserve their friendship. She knew that. She wished they would yell at her or call her names. A part of her wished they would physically harm her, just to help distract from the wretched pain she was feeling right now. She hated this. But she deserved it. She wasn't stupid. She wouldn't deny it. She made her bed, now she had to lie in it and deal with the consequences of her actions.
"I'm proud of you."
Kessler's voice cut through the air like a knife slicing a load of bread. Brielle's ears perked at the sound, and she shifted her brown eyes away from the grass to the profile of his face. When he saw her, he pushed up his brow, indicating that he was serious. They were halfway across the field now, halfway from the Aqua Tower. For some reason, they were walking slower than necessary, but Brielle didn't mind. She wasn't ready to be alone just yet.
"I am," he told her, his voice insistent. "It takes balls to admit what you've done, Brie. And you did, knowing you hurt your friends so badly to the point where they might not be your friends anymore."
"Jeez, way to make a girl feel better," she told him, a small, forced smile on her face.
"It's the truth," he told her. "If you can handle what happened back there, you can handle the truth. What I'm trying to tell you is people are presented with two choices in their every day lives: doing what's easy and doing what's right. I don't have kids, but having examined thousands of them, my opinion is that a parent's job—equal to keeping their child safe—is teaching their child to do what's right above all else. Ninety percent of parents fail, and that's why we see so many children grow up and make the easy choice. You're different. You're part of the ten percent. And regardless of what happens between you and those girls and regardless of the poor decisions you made in the past, that's something to be proud of."
The Stranger Trilogy Box Set Page 61