by Sarah Kleck
Apparently, it wasn’t clear what I was getting at. “Well, Sally said she immediately felt better after you were with her. She spoke of a light emanating from you . . .”
Jared stopped in the middle of the path and looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if I’d missed something really obvious.
“So it’s true?” I said. “You healed Sally?”
Jared raised his eyebrows even more. “But I showed you,” he said with a touch of embarrassment, “yesterday in the clearing.”
“Yes, I know, but healing a human being is on a different level from making a crocus bloom, isn’t it?”
Jared shrugged. “It’s the same principle.”
I shook my head. He had probably rescued Sally but wouldn’t brag about it to save his life. In my eyes, his modesty doubled the value of what he’d done for my friend.
“Does Sally know about you and Colin?” I asked. “I mean, who you are?”
“Not directly,” he said. “Secrecy is the greatest priority of the Order, but in my opinion it’s up to Colin to decide what he does and doesn’t tell her.” He looked at me apologetically. “I know the two of you are very close, but as long as Colin hasn’t made his decision, it’s probably better if you don’t talk to her about this.”
“Yes, of course. She probably wouldn’t believe me, anyway,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m finding it hard to believe myself!”
Although we’d walked slowly, we’d almost arrived at the lecture hall. I was not ready to walk in yet because there was another matter weighing on me—and that was the question that had kept me awake all night. But while I was burning to have an answer, I was just as afraid to ask the question. Jared must have sensed my inner turmoil, for he stopped and looked at me in anticipation.
“How will this continue? I mean with us,” I said, holding my breath.
A gentle smile spread across Jared’s face, making his deep blue eyes beam. “I think I’ve expressed myself pretty clearly as far as that’s concerned, haven’t I?” he said in his velvety voice. “At least, as I see it.”
My ears turned hot and I forgot to blink. When I didn’t react right away, the expression on Jared’s face changed.
“How do you see it?” Was I hearing uncertainty in his voice? Or just fear? Was he afraid I didn’t feel for him what he felt for me? Did he seriously consider that I might not want to be with him? That was ridiculous. When I didn’t answer again but just gave him a dumb look, he took my hands and placed them on his chest. His heart was beating almost as fast as mine.
“Evelyn,” he started earnestly. “I’m so in love with you that I sometimes believe I’m losing my mind.”
My ears started to glow.
“I . . . know that feeling all too well,” I confessed a moment later in a weak voice. At that moment, not even a herd of stampeding elephants would have caused me to look away from Jared’s indigo-blue eyes. Without being aware of what I was doing, I stood on my tiptoes and stretched up as far as I could. Jared took my face into his hands, bent down to me, and placed his lips on mine. His kiss was so tender and warm I forgot everything around me. This is what flying must be like!
He disengaged far too soon. I kept my eyes closed for a moment, inhaling deeply. What was happening inside me was incredible. As if I had just returned home from a long, difficult trip.
When I sensed Jared’s eyes resting on me, I opened mine. He looked at me with a content smile that brought the most delicate wrinkles to the corners of his eyes.
“Come,” he said tenderly as he put his arm around my shoulder. “Or we’ll miss the lecture.”
Jared and I entered the lecture hall just as Professor Bronsen stripped off his wristwatch, as usual, and placed it on the table before him so he could keep an eye on the time as he lectured. He’d start any moment. Since everyone was already seated except for us, Jared inconspicuously pulled me to the free seats in the back rows so we’d disappear as fast as possible into the gray mass of students without drawing attention. But we had already been noticed. Students immediately began to whisper among themselves, nudge their neighbors, and openly point at us. Soon the entire lecture hall was filled with a murmur. More and more heads turned our way, and not even strict Bronsen managed to suppress the voices. It was horrible! Again all eyes were directed at me. But . . . no. This time they were not staring at me, they were staring at us. I felt warm at the thought of calling Jared and myself “we.” He led me to the second-to-last row while I tried to ignore my gawking and whispering classmates and follow the lecture. My assignment for Bronsen was due soon, which is why I couldn’t afford to miss anything. But as much as I tried to focus, the feeling of having Jared so close to me, of sensing the warmth of his body almost on my skin and inhaling his scent, was simply overwhelming. I hardly dared to look at him as I had during the weeks when he diligently ignored me, but found to my astonishment that he was looking at me, inhaling more heavily each time than before. When our eyes met, I perceived a strange tension between us. The air began to crackle. I reluctantly took my eyes off his breathtaking appearance and attempted to concentrate again on the professor before it became too late to look away from Jared. Then, I felt his fingertips against my hand. I turned toward him. He breathed so heavily, his chest was heaving. He gave me a penetrating look. A tingling heat streamed through me as he firmly took my hand, bent forward, and inhaled the scent of my hair. What was happening in my stomach then had nothing to do with butterflies anymore—high voltage was closer to the mark.
Never before had anyone conjured a similar feeling inside me. This was all so new and unaccustomed to me that I had no idea how to handle these unfamiliar feelings and . . . needs. I was terribly afraid of doing something wrong, something that would cause Jared to disappear from my life.
On the other hand, I couldn’t get enough. Not enough of him. At that very moment, I wished for nothing more than to be alone with Jared.
I managed to withstand his glowing gaze but felt an unaccustomed heat rise inside me. It focused below my trembling stomach and turned my heartbeat into the irregular pounding of a hammer. It was hopeless to attempt to follow the lecture.
When Professor Bronsen finished, after what felt like an eternity, Jared impatiently helped me cram my books into my bag, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the lecture hall, past the gaping students. I didn’t care where we were going. The only thing that counted was that he was with me. That we were going somewhere together. But I was unprepared for what came next. With a tug he pulled me into a narrow alley between two buildings, pressed my back against the stone wall, and placed his hands against it on either side of my head. His eyes glowed, while his breathing raced as fast as mine. I couldn’t stand it a second longer. I wildly flung my arms around his neck, while he took my face firmly into his hands and pressed his tongue between my willing lips.
Oh God! Finally! Without hesitating, I returned his kiss with a longing sigh, clawed my fingers into his hair, and eagerly pulled him to me. He moved his hands over my body—my hair, my neck, my back, my hips, my behind. I tasted his breath and drew it in while I greedily attempted to pull him even closer. It was simply incredible—like a rush to which I devoted life and soul. The way he had kissed me in the morning outside the lecture hall had been incredible, so tender and so loving. But this kiss . . . This kiss was pure passion.
I noticed much too late that Jared was putting a little distance between us. Gently he kissed me twice on the lips before placing his forehead against mine and looking me in the eyes. His hands rested on my hips.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I should let it start a little slower.”
“I’ve got nothing against fast,” I said, panting.
Jared grinned. “You’re driving me insane,” he said and kissed me so intensely it took my breath away. Wow! My knees were trembling long after he’d released my lips again.
“You’ve got In
tro Psych with Harrison now and then Stats with Gallert, right?” Jared asked after I’d caught my breath again.
“You know my schedule?” I asked, surprised. I didn’t know if I was supposed to feel upset or flattered by it.
“Yes,” Jared said and laughed, looking guilty.
I smiled. Apparently, something inside me found it flattering.
“See you at Karen’s lecture?” he asked and kissed me gently on the forehead and on the tip of my nose.
“She kicked me out—have you forgotten already?”
“We’ll see about that,” Jared mumbled. “Will you please save me a seat?” he asked.
“Yeah . . . sure,” I said. “Do you really think it’s a good idea if I just show up there? What if she kicks me out again?”
“She only did that to prevent us from getting to know each other.”
Never mind getting to know each other, she doesn’t even want us to be in the same room together.
“But now that we’re together . . .” he said, shrugging, unconcerned.
Together? Incredible what this single word from his mouth did to my body. My heart immediately began to race. We’re together!
“What are you thinking?” Jared asked, a little amused.
Of course, my inner cries of joy wouldn’t be secrets to him. “It felt so good when you said that. That we’re . . . together,” I said while struggling against my rising embarrassment.
Jared firmly held me in his arms and kissed me passionately for a long time.
“Get used to it. I don’t intend to ever give you up,” he said, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine.
My legs wobbled as if they were made of Jell-O. “Okay,” I said, breathless.
“So, will you save me a seat?” he asked again, smiling while holding me in his arms.
I nodded and looked at him dreamily. I had never before seen such extraordinary blue eyes. Surely, that couldn’t even be replicated with tinted contact lenses.
“Till then,” Jared whispered in my ear. He wrapped his arms one last time around me and placed his lips on mine before leaving.
“Till then,” I said when he’d almost turned his back to me, and he let his fingers glide into his jeans pockets and sauntered away. I watched him till he turned the corner—without even once turning to show his knock-out crooked smile—and disappeared from view. His appearance still took my breath away. Despite his height, Jared never appeared clumsy or awkward, which was probably because he had an athlete’s body. For a moment, I lost myself in thoughts of Jared’s body, how he’d look naked, how his skin would feel on mine . . . but then I remembered my sense of responsibility, which still existed somewhere deep inside me. I was really here to study. I pushed away from the wall with a sigh and went on my way.
Professor Harrison probably gave the most boring lecture of his entire career. No wonder I couldn’t focus on it.
Stats with Gallert was—I wouldn’t have thought it possible—even more boring. And so I struggled through the two sessions, counting the minutes until I’d see Jared again. I gave a grateful sigh when Gallert finally packed his things and disappeared through the don’s door. I started to look for Jared at once, carefully saving the seat to the right of me, which several incoming students had already tried to claim.
“May I sit with you, Miss Lakewood?”
When I recognized his voice, a comfortable warmth spread through the pit of my stomach. He looked down at me with a broad grin.
“Why certainly, Mr. Calmburry,” I said with a voice a little too high, clearing my coat and bag from the chair I’d reserved for him.
The seat sprang up, and he elegantly swung it down and slid into the chair in a single flowing movement.
“Hi,” he greeted me, grinning, took my hand, and placed a tender kiss on it.
“Hi,” I said with a squeaky voice. My ears began to glow when I noticed the two girls to my left looking back and forth between me and Jared with eyes wide open in disbelief.
“Did you see that?” one whispered to the other. The upset tone of her voice was unmistakable. I would have liked to be annoyed at how shocked the two girls were by Jared’s kissing me, but when I looked back into his face I had doubts myself. I was sure no woman in this overfilled lecture hall would have said no to him. Jared probably could have had any girl in this whole damned college. Heck, the whole town! Even the whole country! So why me? Suddenly, I remembered our talk in the woods again, when Enid had revealed to me that I was supposedly the last of Nimue’s bloodline. And that there was something between Jared and me, a . . . what did she call it? Yes, an ancient magical link. I was stumped. Could that be the real reason? Did Jared only feel attracted to me because I belonged to a particular bloodline? Because I was the daughter of my mother, the granddaughter of my grandmother, the great-granddaughter of my great-grandmother . . . ? Had he only fallen in love with me because it was predestined?
“What’s going on?” Jared asked and tore me from my thoughts.
I shook my head. “Oh nothing. I’m a little nervous about how Karen will react to me,” I lied unconvincingly while pushing aside the depressing thought that Jared was only interested in me because of a hocus-pocus connection that had come about many generations ago between our ancestors. He frowned in disbelief, but before he was able to say anything, the don’s door opened and Professor Mayflower entered.
“Speak of the devil,” Jared whispered into my ear and sat upright. I did as he did, nervously trying to focus on what was about to come: Karen’s response to seeing me. Especially seeing me seated beside Jared.
As always, Professor Mayflower scanned her audience before starting into her lecture. Jared sat even more upright in his chair. Apparently, he wanted to be seen by her—with me at his side.
Finally, Karen’s eyes stopped on Jared’s face, which caused a maternal smile to appear. Then she saw me . . . and her smile died. With a mixture of anger and horror, her face changed. Her mouth opened, and for a moment it looked as if she were about to say something, but then she pinched her lips together and continued scanning the lecture hall.
“Good morning,” she said in a cold tone into the slim microphone mounted on the lectern.
“Good morning,” the majority of students present mumbled back.
“In today’s lecture we will deal with defensive mechanisms,” Professor Mayflower said as the image of her sobbing in the middle of the forest path with Aiden attempting to console her came to my mind. In my opinion, those two had a strange mother-son relationship. But what did I know about it?
“Defense mechanisms are what?” Karen asked, grabbed a piece of chalk, and let her stern look wander along the rows. The hand of a young woman with long dark hair and a face that seemed to consist of little pits shot up like a bullet. Karen granted her permission to speak with a quick nod.
“Defense mechanisms are defined as psychological mechanisms that process conflicting psychological tendencies or integrate them to protect the mind from these serious conflicts. This mostly happens at the subconscious level,” the dark-haired woman said, beaming from ear to ear—apparently very satisfied with herself. I recognized her as one of Madison’s friends from the smugness of her smile. She was on the same swimming team and had been with her on the day Madison had ripped the amulet from my neck in the shower. Strange . . . I hadn’t seen Madison since that day. Before that I’d unfortunately come across her several times a week, I thought, recalling the malicious look she gave me every time we met. Maybe I should be happy she wasn’t around to get on my nerves anymore. But I wondered where she’d gone to and what she wanted with my amulet. The way she’d stared at it, I didn’t believe she just wanted to be nasty to me. When I thought about it, she really had it in for my amulet. My hand moved to the hollow in my neck that had framed the ornament. I still felt naked and vulnerable without the amulet. Would that ever change?
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br /> Jared cast me a fleeting, concerned glance as if he had felt the sorrow in my energy.
“Correct,” Professor Mayflower answered, but I wasn’t able to connect it to anything for a moment. What? Oh yes, defense mechanisms!
“However, it is important to understand that this is by no means an ideal solution to the conflict, as the conflict can return at a later point and in most cases results in the expression of various symptoms,” Karen said and waited until the students, including me, had scribbled this into their notepads.
“Now,” Karen continued, still visibly tense. “What defense mechanisms are differentiated in psychoanalysis?”
“Repression,” a cherub-cheeked girl with glasses called from the first row as Karen wrote the term on the board.
“Compensation,” a young girl with light-blonde hair called out, and Karen also wrote that down.
“Continue,” Karen demanded, whereupon the terms displacement, isolation, rationalization, reaction formation, identification, fixation, and sublimation were shouted out from the depths of the room without my being able to associate them with their sources. After she’d scribbled all this on the board, and the students had no more to add, she completed the list with the terms avoidance, projection, regression, and somatization. She turned to the class again. For a second, her gaze met mine. I did my best not to let her narrowed eyes and angrily curled lips intimidate me. Jared grabbed my hand under the desk and squeezed it for encouragement.
“Good, let’s take a look at individual defense mechanisms,” the professor continued, unperturbed, and pointed to the term at the top of the board.
“Repression,” she read, “is probably the most familiar defense mechanism. Who can tell me what this means?”
The brownnosers in the front row raised their hands quick as lightning. Karen nodded at one of them.
The anointed one cleared his throat loudly. “Repression is the psychological process when imaginations linked to a drive are shifted from the level of the aware to the level of the unaware,” he proudly explained. My goodness, did this guy learn all this BS by heart just for Mayflower’s lecture?