House of Guardians

by Beatrice Sand

“You don’t do relationships, you don’t do physical contact. What exactly do you do, Mister Laurens?”

  Behind me I hear a spontaneous laugh. A hoarse, nice sound. He thinks I’m funny and that cheers me up.

  “Well, I practice one-on-one combat, make music, and since recently I do you, Harper.”

  “You do no such thing.”

  “Is that right?” He sounds downright surprised. “In fact, I’m pretty into it.”

  “Into chasing me off, you mean?” I look back and see that he is looking at me with torment in his eyes. “I want to touch you.” My own sensual voice amazes me.

  Sam catches his breath. My bold comment is already out there, impossible to take back. And I don’t even want to take it back. I scan his face for a reaction, but it is unreadable.

  “I don’t know if I want that, Laurel. Can’t this be enough for you?”

  It’s no more than a hoarse whisper. A warm, soft breath against my neck. I untwine our fingers, turn his palm upward and push the elegant cufflink out of the buttonholes and place it carefully behind us on the rock.

  “No, this is not enough for me,” I say determined, and slowly pull his sleeve up, revealing his warm bronze skin. Thick, deep, golden-colored veins run the length of his arm. I swallow before curling my fingers around his wrist. I can feel his blood pumping. I let my hand trail upward. The little hairs on his skin tickle my palm. I take plenty of time to explore everything: each bundle of muscles, each flaw—if he even has one—and each winding golden vessel that seems to glow under my fingertips. When I get to his upper arm and can’t go any further, I set his arm aside and start fumbling with the cufflink of his other sleeve. My fingers are trembling. Sam is helpful and removes the cuff himself. Suddenly, I think of his tattoo, but on neither one of his arms is there a trace of ink.

  “Do you have a tattoo or not?” I ask, gently tracing the tips of my fingers across his arm. The underside of his arm feels smooth and I can feel his muscles tense.

  Behind me, it stays quiet.

  When I am done caressing and stroking his other arm, I’m still not satisfied, and I turn my body in the small sweltering space. And face Sam. For a long moment we stare at each other without speaking. The left corner of Sam’s mouth curls up, and it feels as if all the butterflies in my belly start flying at the time. I can feel it all the way into my fingertips. Unabashedly, I bring my hands up to the collar of his shirt and start working on the buttons. Big raindrops plop onto the sand.

  I push his shirt open, and Sam inhales deeply. Heat and woodsy sensuous scents rise from his skin. This must be one of the sexiest smells of all time. Hesitantly, I place my palm on his chest as if it were some kind of a forbidden fruit. Sam’s skin is brutally hard, but it also feels quite silky—as if he has been rubbed with oil. In silence, I continue my exploration and brush his abdomen. I feel his muscles quiver under my fingers and I can’t help but smile.

  Sam’s head falls back against the rock and a low, rough grunt escapes his throat.

  I’m left breathless. Is that because of what I am doing? Touching him, satisfying my curiosity with his consent, and seeing him shiver under my touch brings a whole different sensation—one that floats through my body. I feel like Eva. Here and now.

  Sam brings up his hand and places it against the back of my head. His fingers press hard on my scalp.

  “Laurel…” he pants, his breathing irregular.

  His eyes are trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what. Does he want me to continue? Does he want me to stop? “What do you want me to do, Sam?” Both my lack of experience and his confusing signals are making me unsure.

  “I want this to stop,” he whispers. It’s a plea. His eyes are begging me.

  “Why?” I ask. My voice sounds low and heavy.

  No answer. Maybe he doesn’t even know himself. Gently, he presses my head against his heaving chest. My ear is on his heart and I feel the powerful beat. My head moves with every rise and fall of his chest. Sam’s fingers are lazily stroking along my hair. It’s nice to lie against him and listen to the sounds of the ocean.

  My eyes follow a raindrop that rolls down his chest. With one finger I follow the oily track until I can’t go any further because my fingers are stopped by the waistband of his pants.

  “What are you doing to me?” he asks in a muffled voice.

  “Why do you have to leave me again?” I ask sternly.

  “I have to be somewhere tomorrow. I leave tonight.”

  Oh. That’s all? “Where are you going?”

  “To the mountains, a family gathering.”

  “A summer vacation?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  I freeze when I think of Philene. Will she be there too? “So, you’re not getting married?” I already regret my question and I could just bite my tongue off right now.

  Sam stops stroking my hair and shifts his weight. I know I’ve ruined the moment. I just can’t live in the present—I’m already looking ahead, as I’m finally lying in the arms of a guy I have more feelings for than I am willing to admit.

  “I never said that.”

  I lift my head up. “Yes, you did. Back in the lobby. You said you weren’t engaged.”

  Sam looks down. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  I push myself up from his chest and send him a worried look. “What are you saying? That you are getting married?”

  Sam takes my hand and pushes it away. “I don’t feel like talking about it,” he mumbles and peeks up at the sky. “We have to get out of here, you’ll get soaked.”

  “There’s still time.”

  “I said now!” he reacts strongly. He pushes me away completely and stands up. “It’s better that I take you home now,” he says somewhat calmer, but his voice sounds strange and he keeps staring up.

  Disillusioned, I crawl onto the rock and watch Sam buttoning his shirt with a tight face. Only now, I’m aware of the rain pouring down mercilessly.

  Sam is peeking in my direction from beneath his lashes. “It ends here, Laurel,” he says coolly, without showing any emotion, and I know that we are back to square one.

  I feel like crying. “What ends?”

  “This.” He gestures toward the place where we were trembling with delight only seconds ago—at least, that is what I thought. When I thought he was still a free man.

  “So this was it again, Sam?”

  “If we continue like this, I will only end up hurting you.”

  “You should have been honest with me about your marriage before you forced me to dance.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “I already explained myself to your stepmother. You heard it.”

  “Yeah, I did. How did you know how I felt? Was it your sixth sense, or something?”

  “Enough with the questions, Laurel! We’re playing a dangerous game here.”

  Suddenly, I feel the cold, and I wrap my arms around myself. “And we are back to danger… What is your obsession with danger? Just like during skiing?”

  Sam ignores my question, grabs his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. Then he grabs the cufflinks from the rock and shoves them into his pocket. “We really have to go, we’re out in the open.”

  “You can’t just show up in my life and then disappear when you feel like it or when I ask the wrong question.”

  Uncomfortable, he looks down at me, while tucking his shirt halfway into his pants. “What you and I are doing now… it has to stop before it gets out of hand. I…” He runs his hand through his hair. “I can’t concentrate anymore and that is dangerous. I can’t afford not to be alert, not now. Not this coming week.”

  We can hear the rumble of the thunder. It’s close. Sam gets distracted and looks up again.

 
“Are you getting married, Sam? At least be honest with me.”

  Sam towers over me. “It’s too complicated to explain. Trust me, you wouldn’t understand.”

  Above us, the clouds clash together and I don’t know what scares me more, the thunderclaps or Sam’s unnerving voice. “Because I am a commoner?”

  “You’re what?”

  “A commoner. Is that why you have to marry Philene? Because you’re related to aristocracy?”

  “I’m what?”

  “Aristocracy. You’re from a noble family, right?”

  Sam’s eyes narrow. The water is dripping from his ridiculously beautiful face. It doesn’t take long before we really are completely soaked. “How the hell would you know?”

  “So it’s true then?”

  He licks his bottom lip. “I… I can’t say anything about it without placing you in danger.”

  “Because of the Keepers?” I push.

  Sam yanks his head down. His irises take on the color of the charcoal sky and like the absence of the stars, the twinkle in his eyes disappears too. At that exact moment, everything around us lights up and a lightning bolt rips the sky in two.

  Sam picks me up from the rock and runs up the stairs several steps at a time, as though the thunder is snapping at his heels. I can scarcely follow what is happening, and my brain refuses to register even one piece of information. I am so numb with fear that I can’t even scream. I cling to Sam and close my eyes.

  When we reach the hotel, he puts me down under the pent roof, but my knees are so weak that I head straight for the ground. With a rapid movement of his hand, he prevents me from falling. I push his hand away as soon as I am able to stand on my own. With quick strokes, Sam wipes the water from his face and plants his hands on both sides of my head against the outside wall of the hotel. He glowers at me.

  “You’re scaring me,” I squeal.

  20

  laurel

  “Say that again?” Flames erupt from Sam’s eyes, and his voice sounds raw. His nostrils flare.

  “You’re scaring me,” I repeat in a shrill voice.

  “Before that,” he says, his jaw clenched, forcing the words through his teeth.

  “The Keepers? Your past?”

  “Where did you get that information?”

  “F-from Sander.”

  With his flat hand next to my ear, he hits the wall and chunks of cement come crumbling down. My shoulders shake violently. Sam presses his lips into a thin line and laces his fingers behind his head. “Okay. And how do you know Sander?”

  “I don’t,” I say desperately. “I don’t know him.”

  “You don’t?” he asks, leaning his face closer to mine. “You must have met him somewhere, don’t you think? And apparently he has been polite enough to introduce himself too.”

  “D-do you know him?”

  “Right now I’m more interested in how you know him, Laurel. Stop talking around it, dammit. Where did you two meet?”

  “The ski trip… we met while skiing,” I blurt out at the sight of his warning glance.

  “Well, how about that, now we’re getting somewhere. What did he tell you about my background?”

  “Only that you and your friends come from an old aristocratic dynasty that is led by the Keepers.”

  “What else?”

  “That was all. He was nice.”

  “He is dangerous.”

  I feel the anxiety fade and give way to anger. “You know something?” I pique his interest. “I’m starting to believe this Sander guy, whoever he may be. According to him, you are the real danger here and he strongly recommended that I break ties with all of you.”

  “Is that so?” he snorts. “You didn’t exactly try to break ties when you came to see me in my hotel room.”

  I give him a pained look and Sam lifts his hand. Before he can touch me, I slap his hand away from me.

  “Listen, I have to go,” he says, suddenly all business. “I have a tough week coming up. Promise me that you won’t speak to anyone about what you heard.”

  “I thought you were going on vacation?”

  “Promise me, Laurel!”

  “All right, I promise!” My vow to keep my mouth shut seems to finally calm him down. “So it’s true what that guy said? You come from a powerful, dangerous family?”

  He does stare at me with a dangerous look in his eyes. “When I get back I’ll come talk to you. I promise.”

  “Why? To end things decently between us?”

  Silence.

  “You know what, Sam? I’d rather you not come back here at all. Let’s end this now so you can have all the time in the world to train, fulfill your family obligations, and get married. Just don’t forget that you came to me tonight.” I take a deep breath. “I guess you know I have feelings for you, but I’ve never asked for anything. Everything has always been on your initiative, Sam.”

  I let his jacket slip off my shoulders. He doesn’t catch it and it drops on the wet tiles. “I hope your week goes well,” I say softly and walk away.

  I walk down the dark hallway of the guesthouse. It’s quiet, as though everyone is fast asleep. The only sounds are the loud drumming of rain on the roof and the thunder. Quickly, I turn on the table lamp on the dresser. The vintage wall clock tells me it’s already long past midnight. I don’t feel like walking home through the heavy thunderstorm and I decide to look for an empty room. I’ll even sleep in the laundry room between soaps and shampoo bottles if necessary—anything will be better than going back out there. In more ways than one.

  Less than half an hour ago, Sam was nearly melting under my touch, and now I have ended things with him. Or he ended things with me. Either way, it’s over. Sam Laurens is no longer part of my life. Well, he can go and marry his aristocratic second cousin, or however else they are related, for all I care. That’s just perverse nowadays.

  I stop in front of room eleven and press my ear against the door. No sound whatsoever. Either they are not here yet, or Renee has already left for her own bedroom. I will probably hear every little detail tomorrow, and I hope I’ll be strong enough to handle her happiness.

  With sandy feet, I run across the carpet to the reception desk to see which room is left. I’ll vacuum the trail of dirt first thing in the morning before Mia starts to complain again.

  I freeze when I hear a sudden noise. The sound is coming from the direction of the bar. That’s weird. The bar hasn’t even been open tonight. I walk over to see the light over the pool table turned on. Stupefied, I stand in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

  Julien is stirring the ice cubes in his tumbler and looks at me with an evil smile. “Ah, if it isn’t the little sister of the ice queen, come join me. Let’s see if you are more fun.”

  I walk into the bar. “Where is Renee?”

  “That frigid bitch is gone.” He holds up his glass in a toasting gesture. “Long live booze!”

  I look at the bottles on the bar top: vodka, gin, rum… Martin’s collection of strong liquor is laid out before him.

  “Would you be so kind as to leave this hotel.” It’s not a question.

  He motions in my direction. “Earlier tonight you were lusting after me.”

  I flush. “Excuse me?”

  He laughs. “I know very well when a woman wants me, and you were definitely one of them tonight.” He brings up his glass and takes a sip without looking away. “I was certainly lusting after you.”

  “I’ll call you a cab.”

  “That wrestler has played you, didn’t he? I saw him at the dance. Cocky bastard. Thinks he is so much better than others, just as those smug friends of his.”

  “Come on, Julien, put that glass down. You’ve had enough.”

  “I’m just getting started, sweetie.”

  “Either you leave now voluntarily
and I’ll call you a cab, or I’ll call the police. Your choice.”

  He slams the glass down on the bar top. “Gee, you’re so nice. Maybe I’ve been with the wrong sister all this time.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Well, the night is still young—even though you are a bit too skinny for my taste.”

  I’m not going to argue with him any longer and pull the phone out of its holder. As I turn to walk out of the bar, I’m dragged back by my hair and tumble backwards. My eyes fill with tears and I place my hand on the sore spot on my head. I am certain Julien has pulled an entire handful of hair out of my scalp.

  Confused and frightened, I crawl on my hands and knees. The phone is still firmly in my hand and I quickly press the keys to alert Martin.

  “You just crossed the line, Julien. My father will be here any second.”

  In horror, I watch a fist coming my way and I hit the floor. I feel a mean, fierce sting near my eye. The phone clatters to the ground, and I realize, slightly dazed, that I am on my own.

  Slowly, I regain consciousness. I smell sweat. There’s heavy breathing. Growling. A heavy weight is pressing me against the wall and my lungs are screaming for air. A wave of nausea floods me when it dawns on me that Julien is touching me all over my body. My heart is racing, and with a sick feeling in my stomach I try to push him away, but Julien keeps a firm grip on my wrists and holds them locked together above my head.

  Think, Laurel! Think, dammit! Don’t let him do this to you.

  “Get off me…” I manage to wriggle one hand free, but although I stretch my fingers as far as I can, I’m still a few inches short of being able to grab a bottle.

  Julien tugs at my skirt, and when he can’t manage to take it off, his hand slips underneath it and his fingers work their way up. He squeezes my upper thigh hard.

  I cry out. I try to push him away, putting all my weight behind the effort.

  “Stop that,” he growls, placing a sweaty palm on my mouth to prevent me from screaming. “We both know you want this.”

  And then, suddenly, I’m aware of another person in the bar. The next thing I know, Julien cries out and drops to the ground. Next to him lies a cue stick. Freed from his body, I suck in all the air that I can get.