Daring Hearts: Fearless Fourteen Boxed Set

by Box Set

  There were places tingling in me that had never tingled before.

  “I know you, Fasta. I know so much about you, yet I have so much to discover. Will you let me get to know you again?”

  I didn’t know what all of it meant. And what in hades did he mean about again. It didn’t really matter because when I looked into his mossy green eyes, I’d agree to just about anything.

  I nodded.

  “Good. At least we’ve agreed on that.” He kissed my forehead. That was it. I was going to die a blissful death by forehead kiss in the woods right outside my house.

  What a way to go.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. Sure. I’ve just never—I mean never by a guy…”

  “That’s a beautiful thing, Fasta. I’ve loved being your first every time.”

  There he went again, spouting nonsense. Except, down deep, it really didn’t seem like nonsense. As much as he’d said he wanted to know me, I wanted to know him equally as well.

  “I have to know what that means.”

  “You will. Tomorrow, okay? If you can’t sleep tonight, I’ll tell you a story. It’s guaranteed to make you sleep like a baby.”

  “A story? What am I nine?”

  He shrugged with one shoulder. “No. We like to tell each other stories and read to each other into the night. I’d better go now. Will you call me if you want to talk to me?”

  “I—I don’t have your number.”

  “Yeah, you do. I slipped it into your purse earlier. I wanted you to have it. A guy can hope after all, right?”

  I bit my lip to keep my sarcasm at bay.

  “Okay, tomorrow morning then. Sleep well, Fasta.”

  I watched him walk away, mostly because I didn’t have full function of my body yet.

  Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

  I wanted to know everything there was to know about Saint James and why it felt like he knew me all along.

  Saint

  There was a delicate way to handle Fasta.

  But I’d never figured it out.

  This time around, I would simply have to shoot from the hip.

  I woke early to the sounds of a truck pulling along the side of the building. Looking out the window, I saw it was a moving van. It must’ve been our furniture.

  Since I was an early riser, I had time to help out.

  The furniture wasn’t much, but it was more than we’d ever had. It would have to do. And for once, my dad seemed to be settling in.

  Which was especially good since I didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

  After stopping at the coffee shop for breakfast, I took my time getting to her house. I wasn’t kidding about her being a late sleeper.

  She probably hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last years without me around. I was such a jerk for taking so long to find her, but there were just so many things under my control as a thousand-year old soul in a teen’s body.

  I knocked on the door and my stomach fell to my feet.

  No matter how many times I’d courted Fasta, each time was a dream.

  She opened the door and waved me in. Her hair was down and she had on a pair of cut off shorts and some kind of shirt that flowed at the bottom and tied around her neck.

  “Saint, you brought me coffee? Ugh, you’re the best.”

  She looked as though she’d startled herself with her own words.

  She’d certainly surprised me.

  “Are we alone?” I asked, assessing the home. It was comfortably messy, like a real family lived there. I was glad she was with people who obviously loved her and cared for her. We had souls that sometimes travelled with us, but I didn’t know if her parents were some of those souls or not. “What I meant was, are your parents home?”

  She sat down and gestured for me to do the same. “They’re not here. And they’re not my parents. They’re my foster parents.”

  “Foster? What happened to your parents?”

  “I never knew my dad and my mom took off with her boyfriend one day. I lived with my aunt for a while but then she died. I’ve been in the system since I was about seven.”

  That was a tragedy. Now wonder she had trust issues.

  “I’m sorry. That couldn’t have been easy on you.”

  She drank her coffee instead of answering me. Since I’d already discovered her like of chocolate, I brought chocolate-chip scones. When she opened the bag, I thought she was going to have an epileptic episode. Truth be told, it was the most emotion I’d seen from her in three days, despite all the things I’d seen her go through.

  “These are my favorite, but I never get them. Eating chocolate alone is weird. I think it was meant to be shared.”

  I grabbed my own and set it on a napkin. She took one bite and the look on her face was priceless. She moaned and I closed my eyes in remembrance. I’d heard her make that sound many times and in a variety of situations.

  “You’re happy here? With these people?”

  Though outward appearances told me she was, I had to know for sure.

  “They’re very good to me. And they didn’t get weird about…”

  “They didn’t get weird about what?”

  “Um, about my drawing.”

  I cleared my throat and leaned forward, waiting to get her full attention. “You mean they’re okay with your—habit.”

  “Habit? It’s not like I’m addicted to crack. And sometimes I can’t help it. I can only hold them in for so long.”

  “That’s my fault. I should’ve gotten to you sooner.”

  “Your fault? I—I don’t understand. I thought when you got here you would…”

  Her aggravation and confusion was palpable. I could feel it in the air and it almost choked me.

  “I promise I will explain everything. Do you promise to keep an open mind? Some of this may seem—insane at first.”

  She sighed and then took a huge bite of her scone. She was using the chewing to allow herself time to think.

  Typical Fasta.

  We finished our breakfast in silence. She was thinking about everything I’d said and that’s all she needed—time to open her heart to the possibilities—and time to trust me.

  The latter I would have to earn and I was well-versed in earning my love’s trust.

  I’d done it for countless lifetimes.

  “I don’t trust many people.” She finally said, crushing the paper bag in her hands as if it were her adversaries.

  “I’m not asking you to trust many people. I’m asking you to trust me.”

  She got up to throw away the bag and our cups. I took my opportunity.

  When she turned back around, I put my arms on either side of her waist, pinning her in with my hands on the counter.

  “Tell me you don’t feel it, Fasta.”

  She gasped at my nearness but didn’t retreat, not that she could. “Why do you say my name like that? Like it’s some nice word?”

  I furrowed my eyebrows at her questions. Modern day cowards had made her ashamed of her heritage.

  “Have you ever drawn a great hearth or an axe? Haven’t you wondered why it seems so familiar?”

  She nodded and I chuckled. I still had the same effect on her that I always did.

  “That’s because you once the Lady Fasta. You were the wife of a powerful Earl in Norway.”

  That’s when I lost her. She rolled her eyes and ducked out of my grasp.

  “You’re insane.”

  “Let me ask you something else. Have you ever drawn a vineyard with lovers curled in each other’s embrace? A cottage in the woods with a ravine in front of it? An underground home in the desert of Australia.”

  Her face reddened, but this was no blush. It was the fury of angry in her skin.

  As fast as it appeared, it withdrew, leaving her ghost white.

  “Come with me.”

  It was a command. She grabbed my hand and jerked me up the stairs. At the top, she threw open a door to a bedroom.

  She
began sifting through stacks and stacks of papers, some as tall as the ceiling. She seemed to have some organizational scheme for them all and knew exactly what she was looking for.

  “This.” She shoved a paper in my face. “This is you. But you already knew that, right?”

  I looked at the picture in question and smiled. She’d drawn my exact likeness when we’d lived in Norway all those years ago.

  “That is me. My face has changed a little, but that’s your doing.”

  “My doing? I have no control in this. I need to sit down.”

  She flopped to the floor right where she’d stood and covered her face with her hands. I didn’t know if she was going to cry or attempt to get rid of me.

  She wasn’t very predictable.

  “Is it possible for you to stop throwing out random facts and just give it to me straight? I have enough going on in my brain without all of this.”

  I crouched next to her and pried her hands from her face.

  “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going downstairs to give you a minute to calm yourself. Bring me ten pictures you want explained and I will tell you everything. After that, you may have more drawings you want explained and I will do that as well. I want you to know everything.”

  “Okay.”

  I leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead and prayed silently that she would actually believe what I was about to tell her.

  That she was my soul mate.

  That she always had been since the beginning of time.

  And that I’d chased her all those years, making her fall in love with me time after time.

  Fasta

  I laid there for at least a half hour. I had given up on trying to figure anything out. I just wanted to let him explain whatever hair-brained theory he had conjured up.

  I mustered up all my bravery and got to work. I’d organized the drawings over the years by what I thought was time period. I grabbed the top one from each stack. I’d always put my best work on the top in case Moira and Ren decided to kick me out and I had to grab the most important things.

  I went downstairs and Saint was on the couch, flipping channels on the TV, grunting about the vile things to watch.

  “Nothing to watch?”

  He put the remote down and shrugged. “I hate TV.”

  “I only watch movies, mostly.”

  He nodded and looked at the papers in my hands. He was a no nonsense guy.

  I liked it.

  He had a navy-blue t-shirt on with dark-washed jeans. His hair was long on top and cut close to his head on the sides.

  I couldn’t have drawn a better specimen even if I’d wanted to.

  “I’m scared.” I blurted. And while it was completely true, I’d not meant to let him on to that fact.

  He stood immediately. “Of me?”

  “No. Yes. Not of you, but of knowing about these. As much as they’ve plagued me, they’ve also kept me safe—given me somewhere to hide. You’re taking that away.”

  He started to come toward me, but stopped himself.

  “Maybe I can offer a replacement—for a safe place—after we’re done.”

  I nodded curtly. I doubted he had anything to offer me that would take the place of my curse—my security blanket.

  “Let’s sit outside. It’s too crowded in here.”

  There was no one in the house but him and me, but together it felt like we took up the entire space.

  “This one first.”

  It was the drawing of a castle. I didn’t know where.

  “Ah, this was Scotland. Um, around the 1700’s. You were a midwife. You were happy here. But you died after falling off a horse. You hit your head on a rock. It was the day before your thirtieth birthday.”

  We looked at the picture together.

  “And this castle?”

  “That’s where you were going when you died. You were riding in a great hurry to help deliver the princess’ child.”

  A greater question was building in my head, but I held it in for now.

  “And this?”

  It was the cottage. I hadn’t drawn that one as many times as the rest. In fact, it was the one I’d drawn only a dozen or so times in my life.

  “This was in the early nineteenth century in England.” He didn’t offer a lot of information more. I looked over at him and tears formed in his eyes. He was in pain and damn it if I didn’t want to soothe him.

  “What happened to me here? I don’t draw it very often.”

  “After your eighteenth birthday, you married a man. You became pregnant a few months after your wedding. But he—you—he was a violent man. You miscarried. Eventually, he died in a drunken tirade in town at the bar. Got himself into a fight and he was killed by the man he’d picked a fight with. You lived out the rest of your years alone.”

  A tear broke free from my eyes.

  Wasn’t there one life that wasn’t a tragedy?

  “And this? The Viking?”

  “That’s me. You already knew that. You lived a long life this time around.” He pointed to the picture. “You had twelve sons. And you died alongside your husband at a very old age.”

  Warmth filled my chest hearing him speak about my life at that time.

  “And this?”

  It was the vineyard. It wasn’t as explicit as the ones on the top of the pile, but the insinuation was there nonetheless. There were grapevines everywhere for miles and in between, two lovers in an embrace.

  “This was in the sixteenth century in Italy—outside of Rome. You were a very—frisky teenager. You were very much in love here. But your father didn’t approve of your suitor. So the two had to hide until they ran away later on. They spent the rest of their lives in France. This was another good life. You had two children, a boy and a girl. Your husband died three days after you. He was incredibly distraught at his loss.”

  He cleared his throat after the story and as he spoke, I could almost see the life, like the memories had been stored in my memory, waiting for him to revive them.

  “What about this?”

  It was a picture of a boy, sitting with his back to me overlooking a mountain range. I’d drawn it in black and white because that’s how it appeared to me. It was a fuzzy vision, but I’d done the best I could.

  “This one was a very long time ago. We’re talking B.C. here.”

  “Like in the bible?”

  “Yeah, exactly. That’s me. I was a shepherd. When you’d go to get water for your family, you’d always take a detour and come visit me. You lived a good life in this one as well.”

  He took the picture from my hands and studied it longer than the rest. I didn’t know what made that one more important, but the question that had been looming in my mind had to be asked.

  “How do you know all this? Were you there?”

  He laughed and put the picture down, but only after running his fingers along the edge. “I was there. In all your lives I was there. Do you believe in soul mates?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  He took a strand of my hair in his hand and played with it. “I absolutely do. Mostly because I already have a soul mate. I chase her lifetime after lifetime, hoping to make her fall in love with me before her eighteenth birthday.”

  I backed up from him on the couch. “Wait up, so you like remember all your previous lives? And you spend every life running after this girl in hopes that she’ll love you? What if she doesn’t?”

  “Then I wait for the next life and try again.”

  “That sounds like an exhausting way to live. And sad.”

  He thought about my words for a minute. “Not sad at all. I’m honored to follow her through every lifetime. It is said that one day she will make the choice to love me completely—without abandon. That’s when it will end and our souls will finally be at rest—together.”

  My heart was crushed and I nearly broke out into tears right there. He wasn’t there for me at all. He was chasing some fool of a girl who couldn’t
make up her mind to love him so he could be at peace.

  What an idiot.

  “So where is she? Aren’t you wasting time explaining pictures to me when you could be after her?”

  “Any time with you is not a waste, Fasta.”

  “But what if you don’t find her before her eighteenth birthday.”

  “I’ve already found her.”

  I didn’t know his meaning until I looked him in the eyes. They told me all the things I was foolish enough to ask.

  I was the idiot girl.

  He was chasing me life after life.

  I was the wench he’d spend eternity on.

  “Wait…you…” I pointed to the pictures, not thoroughly believing in any of this.

  “You were my wife in Scotland. You’d only just given birth to our only son before you fell from the horse to your death. I didn’t find you before your eighteenth birthday here.” He pulled the picture of the cottage. “I was too late. I had to watch from afar as you lived your life in pain and then in loneliness.”

  He raised his arm to swipe a tear from his cheek.

  “You gave me twelve sons when I was the Earl of a great village in Norway. We were Vikings. And in Italy, we stole moments in the vineyard until you were ready to run away.”

  “So, I’m her. I’m the moron who you follow and watch as I make idiotic decisions?”

  He scoffed. “I prefer to be honored that I get the chance to spend any lifetime with you. And don’t call yourself those names. That’s what these lives are about, learning.”

  I threw myself back on the couch. “Haven’t I learned anything? I mean seriously, who wouldn’t go for a guy like you?”

  I did not just say that out loud.

  “You’ve learned tons. Trust me. And it seems like this time around, you’ve matured, if I may say so. And you’re a lot more intelligent, not that you weren’t smart before. There’s a wisdom about you in this life. Maybe you’re retaining some of your previous knowledge.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  “What?”

  “If we had kids then we…”

  “Of course we did. We were married at least five times. And like I said, in Italy, well, we were a very passionate couple. I blame it on the wine. You blamed it on the fresh air.”