I blink up at him, biting my lip and wondering how much he’s really telling me of the truth. And wondering if it has anything to do with the way Lindon keeps appearing in my mind, from the first moment I saw his picture when Rowan came to visit me in the human world. Truly, that picture and the promise of the meeting was what made me come here.
But we can’t be fated mates if he already had a fated mate, can we?
I shake my head and get out of the pool, wrap myself in a towel, and let Lock lead me back to my room. When we get there, he gives me a small, short hug that warms me from head to toe. When he leaves I stay at my door, staring at Lindon’s.
I don’t even know why.
Chapter 6
After Lock dropped me off I was tired and went to sleep, assuming things would be better in the morning.
I was wrong and right about that.
My mind feels slightly rested, and my body is sore but in a good way, like I slept so deeply I didn’t move at all during the night.
But on the other hand, a new day and a better level of comprehension just makes it easier for the full gravity of my predicament to sink in.
And my conversation with Lindon.
I growl and bury my face in the pillow, hitting my hand on the soft mattress next to me.
Why can’t I forget how good it feels to kiss him?
My Sylvester book is on my nightstand, back from Hawes. The temptation to just sink away into another world is too strong, so I reach for the book and prop it on my lap while I squish the pillows against the headboard for the perfect sitting position for reading.
Then I open the book where there’s a bookmark made of a post-it note, presumably left there by Thor.
I thumb a few pages forward to make sure this is a scene I want to read, and then go back to the page I opened to.
After a deep breath with closed eyes, I begin to read.
Eva paced the library, throwing anxious glares at Sylvester as she considered their predicament.
“I do not wish to marry your brother,” she said. “Nevertheless I must do as my family expects of me.” She gave him a glance filled with the sadness of a thousand lifetimes, and a sigh that was filled with the promise of forever.
“I won’t let you,” Sylvester insisted, crossing the room to take her small hand in his.
“You can not stop him,” she said, trying to draw her hand away.
He reached for her again and then stopped, hand frozen in the air. “I can. He will not force you.”
“It is what I was sent for,” she said sadly, shaking her head and blinking tears from her sad blue eyes. Eyes like a lonely sky.
“No,” Sylvester said, closing the distance between them to take her hand again. “You were meant for me. Sent for me. We both know that. Can you not feel it when I touch you?”
Her blush was evident on her delicate cheekbones. “What I feel has no bearing on my responsibility.”
“Then we will run away.”
“You have responsibilities here as well. To your mother, your family. If we were to leave, we would simply not be the people that we fell in love with.”
“Then you are in love with me,” he said eagerly.
“Of course,” she replied, lowering her eyes demurely. “But does that matter?”
“Of course it does. If we’re fated to be together, then nothing else matters. I can explain it to my family.”
She shakes her head. “You’re too young now. None of them will listen. As long as he is the one destined to be duke, I will be the one to marry him.”
“Then I will be the duke, Eva. I swear it.”
She put a hand on his heart, beating rapidly with hope beneath her fingers. “You can no more change your birth than I can change my future.”
“Nevertheless, for you Eva, I can stop the world from turning.”
I swallow and turn a few pages. This part of the book is painful, but I love the love between Eva and Sylvester as young teens.
As the younger brother, Sylvester doesn’t have any power. But that changes later when he becomes the duke instead of his brother. Thank goodness.
I flip some more pages and stop at another well worn section of the book.
“Eva, don’t die, you can’t,” Sylvester said, pacing the bedside like the desperation of his strides could decrease her temperature or ease the fever in her veins.
“I don’t want to,” she said weakly, wiping sweat from her brow and gazing blearily at him, like she couldn’t focus in front of her. He paused and then came to sit on the edge of the bed. Tenderly reached for her pale, wan fingers, and gathered her hand in his.
They sat there like that for a moment. Just waiting, listening to the faint effort of her breathing, the slight wheeze, the rustling of the window drapes, letting in fresh air.
Sylvester stood and went to the window to close it, considering for the hundredth time whether heat or cold would be more dangerous for someone as ill as Eva. But nothing they had done so far, nothing any doctors had done, had had any effect on the raging virus that had already claimed his mother.
A little choking noise came from the bed, and, steeling himself, Sylvester walked back to the bedside of the woman he loved. The woman he knew he would always love.
If what he thought was going to happen really was about to happen, then he didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to watch. But he couldn’t leave Eva to face it alone. No, when she went over that dark bridge to the other side of never, he wanted to hold her hand. He stroked a thumb over her cooling hand.
“Wait for me, sweetheart. When you get there, just wait. I’ll be following soon after. So if you get lost, just look back and wait.”
Tears pricked his eyes and he was glad his brothers were not here to see. Glad for once that they had the responsibilities he did not, and were busy making funeral arrangements for their mother, and paid as little attention to Eva as they always had.
It was just more proof that she should have been meant for him.
The hand under his moved, and her eyes flicked up to his. “Sylvester, don’t be mad at your brothers,” she said quietly. “It is not their fault.”
He knew that logically. That the virus had been brought in by one of them, even if it made them barely ill but struck the women much harder.
But he blamed them. Blamed them for taking her, blamed them for not caring, blamed them for leaving him all alone with his love and his hate and the grief that was soon coming.
When Eva left.
It couldn’t be long now.
He slumped over the bed, covering her body with his, afraid beyond anything he had ever known. “Don’t leave me, Eva. If you do, I don’t know what I’ll do. You’re my best friend. I was made for you. If you leave me, I’m doomed.”
Her eyes flickered open, and there was comprehension briefly in them, as if she understood him. She held his hand and fell back to sleep, and Sylvester collapsed into tears. Praying for an impossible outcome.
“If you leave me, I’m done. Don’t go.”
I sniff and swipe at the tears in the corners of my eyes. This scene always gets to me. It feels so real. And it also makes me think, what would it be like to be loved like that? What would it be like to make someone that desperate? To make Lindon that desperate.
I sigh and turn a few more pages, hoping to get to a happier part. The part where Eva makes a miraculous recovery, Sylvester’s older brother dies of a virus, and Sylvester and Eva grow old together, happily ever after.
But a knock on the door interrupts me. “Yes?” I call out.
“Can I come in? Are you decent?” A low voice asks. Lindon. I can scent him faintly. That wonderful, indescribable smell that is totally him.
I set the book aside and draw the covers up around me, even though I’m in pajamas that cover me. I have to admit I’ve missed him. If he gives me any excuse to make up, I’ll probably take it.
My heart is stupid like that. It wants to think there’s an explanation for everyth
ing. Like life is a romance novel and any fight is merely a misunderstanding for the sake of drama and can be explained away after a few soul bearing conversations.
“Come in,” I say softly.
The door is locked but I know Lindon has a key to it. It clicks open and he’s there, perfectly composed by the door, as if he’s been up for hours. Maybe he never went to sleep. Just the sight of him takes my breath away.
His soft blond hair is tousled into little windblown tufts that look styled just so. His skin is looking happier, more rested, and the circles under his eyes aren’t as prominent.
“You look good for someone who should be wracked with guilt,” I say, unable to keep a sneer out of my voice.
He sighs and looks to the side, giving me a look at his sharp profile, perfectly straight nose, sculpted, full lips with that deep cupid’s bow. That dimple. That smooth brow. He’s beautiful.
I clutch the blankets tighter. He’s also a jerk.
“I guess the burden of keeping a secret from you was worse than the burden of knowing I’ve disappointed you.”
I sniff and look away.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Misty. It’s not like me to behave in such a juvenile manner.”
I glare at him. “You call what we did juvenile? Juveniles don’t do what we did, Lindon. What we did over and over.”
“Juveniles don’t kiss?” he lifts an eyebrow. “My, I feel bad for your childhood, Misty.”
I scoff, trying to hold onto my anger in the face of his easy teasing. “Ha! You know what I mean. They don’t kiss…like…that.” I wave a hand, sure I’m blushing madly.
“Like what?” he asks, folding impressive arms over his chest and taking a step forward, face impassive. Gosh, he intimidates me.
“You know…”
“Do I?” Another step forward. A flash of something in those golden eyes. Then he seems to realize we’re headed straight toward another disaster and shakes his head and takes a step back. “I’m sorry. Of course I do. It was inappropriate, and I can promise it won’t happen again.”
It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh, can you?”
His lips tighten into a line. “I can.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
I shrug. “I just don’t believe you, is all.”
Chapter 7
“I’ll prove it to you, then,” he says, crossing the room to go to the window. He pulls on it and then nods in satisfaction.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just checking on the window locks I had installed while you were at your swim lesson. I had no idea anyone was crazy enough to scale the walls here, but now you shouldn’t be disturbed anymore. The men have been informed that that particular route is no longer accessible.”
I flush. I guess that will save me from having to open the window to prevent people like Thor from falling to their death. I blush slightly. “Thank you.”
He nods coldly, trying to keep the distance between us.
“Lindon, why do you care so much? Why are you doing all of this?”
He bites his lower lip and looks in my direction, eyes flashing as his mind works quickly on an answer. I love how transparent that look is. I may not be able to guess what he’s thinking, but I sure know when he is thinking.
“I told you. My father asked me.”
I raise an eyebrow again and fold my arms over the blankets. “Somehow, I get the idea you weren’t always so obedient.”
He blinks and then shakes his head. He turns to go and I call out to him.
“Wait.”
He turns back to me, eyes widened in mild surprised. Gosh, I love the gold color of those hesitant eyes.
“Can we be friends? If we are going to be working together, the only ones who know what’s going on, then shouldn’t we make up?”
He folds his arms and turns around. We face each other like that for a few moments. I can tell he’s resisting me. Resisting being around me. I can also tell, despite his rude words the other day about me being a lame librarian and him not looking for a mate, that he wanted to kiss me again a minute ago. He would have, if he hadn’t come to his senses.
“I don’t know if friends would work, Misty. Despite my rather considerable self control, it’s clear I want you. And as Hawes said, that’s not fair, when I’m not willing to put myself in the ring to be your mate. It’s not right.”
“But you like me?” I ask, tilting my head and studying him.
A small smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Yes, I like you. You’re the first female I’ve connected with in a long time. But that doesn’t change that I can’t have you.” He turns to go, but I call out again to stop him.
“Lindon,” I say quietly.
“Yes?” he turns back. He always turns when I call. Always comes when I want him to. Doesn’t that mean something?
“Why can’t you have me?”
He scratches his hair nervously and leans against the door. It’d be adorable if it didn’t also feel kind of sad.
“You said someone died, you had a mate. But Rafe and Aspen said you had no mate that they knew about.”
His mouth tightens into a frown, and his expression darkens. “I wouldn’t ask Rafe and Aspen anything about my past, if I were you. They are the very least likely to know the truth about things.”
“What about Hawes?” I ask. “When I was changing the other night, I heard you guys.”
His brows draw together in alarm. “You heard us?” His eyes flick to the book in my lap, for some reason.
I wave a hand. “Not much. I was trying not to, but you were being a little loud. Who is Ava?”
Lindon blinks and freezes, visibly affected by the name. “None of your business.”
“Is she the mate you lost?”
His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching at the side of it. “I don’t want to talk about this with you. You, who almost made me betray her.”
There’s a dark emotion in the room, overshadowing his golden beauty with a veil of something sad and awful.
“I guess I don’t know the rules for mating in this world, but I wouldn’t think anyone would know you and not want you to be happy.”
His mouth quirks up in a wry smile, and his dimple flashes. “I think yesterday you were probably wishing bodily harm on me.”
“Well, I meant someone who loved you enough to mate with you.”
“We weren’t mated,” he says quietly.
“But you said…”
“I said I found a mate, and she died. I didn’t say I got to mate her.” He gestures to my book. “It’s kind of like that book, except if the heroine died and the hero’s brother lived and went on to be happy while the hero died alone.” He shrugs, and his smile turns cruel and cold and insincere. “Too bad life isn’t like novels.”
I repress a shiver creeping up my spine at the implication in his voice. That he’s totally given up on anything good for himself.
“Why does the hero have to die alone?” I ask quietly, steeling myself for the answer, knowing Lindon is hurt right now, and not completely himself.
“Because,” he says, swiftly crossing the room to the bed and closing the distance between us. “I’m not willing to do this…” he takes my lips before I can so much as gasp in surprise, swiping his tongue inside my lips to own my mouth entirely for a second before withdrawing and eyeing me with cold eyes. “When I know full well my heart isn’t going to open again. It was like a flower, only blooming once, and withering, but leaving me standing. Empty like a shell.”
“Lindon,” I ask, bringing my hand to my mouth and eyeing him as he stands and withdraws angrily. “What do you do for a living? What do you do with your time all alone in this mansion?”
He smiles wryly. “I’m a writer.”
“You own this house as a writer?” I ask, surprised and a little turned on by his career despite the bad mood.
He nods slightly. “Well, along with my brothers. And I own other property. I guess you could
say I’m good at helping people escape into other worlds. Goodness knows I wish I could escape myself.”
My heart pounds painfully. I want to ask him and I also don’t. It’s simply not possible that he wrote the book in my lap. It shouldn’t be.
He couldn’t be Latrice Oakfield, the enigmatic romance author who wrote one bestseller and disappeared.
I want to ask him. I really want to ask him, but I can’t. I don’t want him to look at me like I’m stupid if I’m wrong. But I also can’t stand to open up the book and read it again until I know if it truly is part of his life or not. It would feel…wrong.
“You want to ask me something?” He looks down at me imperiously, his folded arms an impervious wall between us.
“I…no.”
“Good,” he says, turning on his heel to leave.
“Wait, Lindon,” I say, leaving the bed and flying toward him, despite the fact that I’m only in my nightgown, which is a sleep tee that goes to my knees. I grab his arm and he turns, a mild blush on his high cheekbones.
“Lindon, did you write my book?” I ask.
His lips twitch. “No.”
“How did you know what happens?” I ask.
He eyes the book with a tight expression. “It was a bestseller. I like to stay caught up with the lists. And I have perfect recall and a photographic memory of words.”
I exhale in relief. Too big of a coincidence. “Oh, okay.”
“It’s sappy and stupid, a revisionist attempt at portraying reality for people in that time period. In real life, Eva would have died and had she lived, they’d not have married anyway.” He eyes me skeptically. “Then again, reality never was your preference, was it?” He shrugs. “So the book is perfect for you.”
I tighten my hand on his arm. He has a way of prickling up like a cactus to push people away, but I’m not done talking, and I’m not going to let him do his shoot and run routine.
Alpha Contender Boxed Set: BWWM Paranormal shifter romance BBW Page 20