Worth Dying For

by Luxie Ryder

  Amber smiled to herself as she acknowledged that her usually shitty luck hadn’t changed—if it was raining soup, she’d have a fork. She thought she had lucked out when the chance to use some of the University’s budget before the end of the financial year had been presented to her. Amber had racked her brain and come up with a paper-thin excuse for a field trip—to study the flora and the entomology it attracted on a previously un-researched island in the Maine Archipelago. To her surprise, her proposal hadn’t been questioned when she submitted it to the Dean. Richard Snell had simply raised an eyebrow, grunting in derision as he signed the approval form.

  “Take a junior colleague with you,” he’d said in a mock stern voice, bunching his eyebrows in a way that was meant to be intimidating but only made him look funny. “Let’s at least get some staff training out of it, shall we?”

  Amber suspected that the older man, who she’d worked with for a decade and considered her mentor, understood her need to get away. He’d been a rock for her after recent events. The scars from a traumatic year—one she’d managed to survive despite her doubts at the time—ran deep and burying herself in work was fixing nothing but she knew of no other way to cope.

  The heavy shroud of despair such thoughts always brought began to descend and a pain started at her temples. Amber straightened her spine, mentally throwing off the pain as she searched almost desperately for something to distract her. She turned to the young man almost vibrating with tension beside her.

  David Carmichael’s gorgeous exterior said nothing about the man he had proven himself to be. At thirty, he was only five years younger than her, but it may as well been five hundred years for the difference it made in his maturity. He was pouting like a three year old. The urge to tell him how adorable he looked died on her lips as she realised he might take her words as an invitation and she’d have to reject him again. She bit her tongue and hoped he’d forgive her and start talking to her again before she died of boredom. But as David’s silence stretched on and on, she gave up on him and organised supper instead.

  “Food’s ready,” Amber announced after another hour of silence, forcing herself to smile even though he’d turned to her with a frown still on his face. God, had he always been this moody?

  David took the plate she offered, the gloom in his brown eyes lifting a little as she held onto it until he looked at her. The dimples he’d been hiding reappeared and he smiled for the first time in ages.

  “Thanks.”

  Amber ran her fingers through her hair, guilt gnawing at her insides. It might actually be her fault he’d misread her overly friendly attitude since they’d left the mainland, but she’d simply wanted to show him she held no grudge about what had happened. But when he’d grabbed her in front of Eli, she’d stopped trying so hard. David could have no idea that she’d begun to feel…well, kind of tacky, especially with Eli questioning the relationship between them. Had a male professor taken a younger woman alone with him to a deserted island, Amber would be up in arms about it and rightly so. It didn’t make her feel any better that she knew she would have preferred to take the trip on her own.

  She tried to explain, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I’m not ready to date anyone yet since…since…well, just not right now. What I need more than anything, David, is a friend. Is that okay?”

  To her relief, he simply nodded and threw an arm around her shoulders to drag her in for a brief hug. When he let go before she had to pull away, Amber hoped he had finally understood.

  The island was beautiful, despite the eerie silence hanging over it. Amber wondered at how quiet the birds were. The only reason she knew they were there at all was because she’d seen them sitting up in the high branches they’d approached the island. Maybe a storm was brewing, although the clear sky gave no hint of one. The vivid colours of the surrounding scenery clashed with each other brilliantly, even in the shade thrown across the beach by the trees shielding them from the evening sun. The island was almost entirely rock-bound and spruce-covered, save for the tiny strip of beach they’d managed to land the dinghy on. From there, the terrain grew rather more rugged as sand turned into small, smooth pebbles then became large boulders draped in multi-coloured seaweed. Between those larger rocks, tide pools teamed with life. Taking photographs of the miniature worlds contained within the pools was one of Amber’s favourite pastimes and she looked forward to capturing the secrets contained in their watery depths—but that would have to wait until they had at least done some research.

  David and Amber sat in companionable silence as dusk fell with a dazzling display of purple, red and orange streaks across the sky as the last rays of the sun died out. They were eventually shrouded in an inky darkness broken only by the light from the stove. Amber took a torch down to the ocean’s edge and washed the plates from earlier before returning and tidying away the evidence that they’d eaten. David fired up a small generator, flooding the campsite with light.

  Any hope she’d had their friendship had reached a new level of understanding was blown to pieces when he moved towards her as soon as they’d sat down again.

  “Hi,” he murmured, pressing his lips against her cheek. Amber almost laughed. The boy had some cojones—that was for damned sure. Either that or he was just plain stupid. After the way he’d acted earlier, he was lucky she was even speaking to him, forget anything else.

  “Wow, I’m tired,” she said, shifting away from him and blocking his advance with an arm she raised to stifle a fake yawn. Amber was going to have to tell him, in words of one syllable, that she had no intention of sleeping with him…ever. But she wimped out and decided it could wait until morning because she couldn’t handle another epic sulk. Not yet.

  A sudden breeze tickled the skin of her neck and a shiver crawled up her spine, making her jump. She turned to see if David had touched her but his arms were at his sides. Her gaze flew towards the trees behind them, scanning the darkness, desperate to find the cause of her sudden discomfort.

  “There’s something out there,” she whispered, grabbing David’s arm.

  He laughed, making her feel stupid. “Well, if there is, it ain’t human.”

  “What if it’s a bear…or something?” She felt foolish even as she said the words, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were watching her from somewhere in the black forest surrounding the beach.

  “Oh, man. Bears?”

  David’s mirth didn’t help much, but Amber found herself smiling in response to his teasing, knowing there could be nothing hiding in the night that could seriously harm them. Still, when David unexpectedly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she jumped out of her skin again. It took everything she had not to shout at him to leave her the hell alone. Maybe he just wanted to comfort her but she knew he would read too much into it if she allowed him to hold her. She shrugged him off, too tired to care if he got mad again.

  “Do you want to go inside?” he said, in the kind of voice she would use to console a frightened child. His patronising tone bugged the crap out of her but she let it slide and got to her feet.

  “I’ll protect you, honey.”

  David lifted her into his arms without warning. Amber screeched as she suddenly found herself in mid-air. Struggling at first until it seemed he wouldn’t put her down, she finally gave up and held still so he wouldn’t hurt himself. At six feet tall, she matched David in height and couldn’t have weighed much less than he did. His trying to carry her was as silly as her trying to do it for him. Why did men have to act this way?

  David collapsed, gasping for air in a very unflattering way, after he dropped her onto her bunk with a loud grunt. His ragged panting drowned out any other noise until it morphed into gargling snores when he fell asleep within minutes. Okay, so she was relieved she wouldn’t have to fight him off—again—but she could have done with a little company, at least until her nerves settled.

  Soon, the tent seemed much too quiet. Amber called out a couple of times and cleare
d her throat as loudly as she could but besides the odd mumbled grunt or two, David stayed fast asleep.

  So much for protecting me, she thought, and tried to calm herself by running through a mental list of things she needed to do in the morning. But she couldn’t focus with the darkness and silence closing in on her. Why hadn’t she thought to bring her book into the tent? Amber toyed with the idea of getting it but, wimp that she was, she couldn’t make herself go outside alone.

  “Get a grip on yourself, Amber. You’re a grown-ass woman who has been in much scarier places than this,” she whispered, placing her feet firmly onto the canvas covered sand, determined to go get her damned book. But then something rustled near the tent—God, please let it just be the wind in the leaves I can hear—and she jumped back onto her bunk and buried her legs under the sleeping bag.

  Time seemed to wind down to a stop and her trepidation grew at every sound or movement that didn’t come from her. Her heart pounded in hard, painful lurches, keeping pace with the pulse throbbing loudly in her ears and beating at her throat. Amber couldn’t hear anything other than the sounds of her own frantic heartbeat and her ragged, erratic breaths. She opened her eyes wide, her gaze drawn to the walls of the tent, watching for shadows she was sure would appear.

  She began to pray, mumbling the words under her breath, clinging to them for strength. Her mother’s voice came to life in her head and Amber remembered how she always told her daughter that if she was ever afraid, she should call on God for protection. Dorothy Kirkwood had more faith than a woman who’d lived her life should, and Amber always wished she could find as much solace in her beliefs as her mother did.

  As a lapsed Catholic, fearing things you couldn’t see wasn’t alien to her. The priests at St. Mark’s used to terrify her with talk of the Devil claiming her eternal soul if she as much as had a bad thought. The cold sense of dread crawling over her skin in the dark, claustrophobic interior of the tent still had the power to paralyse her with fear, just as it had when she’d lain in her bed as a child with the priests’ words ringing in her ears. Three decades ago, she had been a kid and easily scared by the unknown, but there seemed to be no logical reason for the panic she felt now. Her body ached where her muscles had seized up and she dared not turn around or even close her eyes. Amber couldn’t move.

  Using a technique she’d employed during those first, difficult months without Tom, Amber tried to focus her mind away from her fear and onto something else. David’s gentle snores held her attention for a moment and she listened to its rhythm…until he gasped and held his breath for so long, she began to panic about that too. Just as she thought she might have to save his life, he finally sucked in another ragged breath and resumed his snoring.

  She tried instead to concentrate on the sound of the waves lapping at the shore and the smell of the ocean carried on the breeze but to no avail. Each time the wind caused the tent to sway, Amber’s body lurched around in the direction of the movement, preparing to face whatever it was trying to tear its way in to get her.

  Just as she decided David was going to have to wake up and check outside before she died of a fear-induced heart attack, her terror lifted. Just like that. Seconds earlier, adrenaline had been coursing through her veins so thick and fast that she knew she would have to run like hell or stay where she was and die from fright…but now, the only sensation coursing through her was absolute exhaustion.

  Her stomach churned, refusing to believe that the crisis was over, but Amber found her heart beat slowing down to normal and the tension seeping out of her bones, almost against her will. Her brain was no more ready to stand down from battle mode than her insides were, but she managed to take what seemed like her first full breath in hours and collapsed sideways onto her bunk. Her muscles unclenched and she stretched out her legs to kick off her boots, groaning as her thighs protested at the movement.

  Amber knew at some point she’d have to deal with whatever the fuck it was that just happened, but for now, she couldn’t handle thinking or feeling one more thing. Fatigue pinned her to the bunk and she sighed in relief as the safe embrace of sleep gathered her in.

  Chapter Two

  Returning to his underground home a few hours before dawn, Bane vowed to be more careful around the humans in future. The woman—Amber—had sensed him. He’d been able to hear her racing heart and smell her fear from thirty feet away. Terrifying her had not been his intention. Bane had simply hoped they would discuss their plans in a little more detail so he could prepare to divert them if necessary.

  Bane entered the living area of the cave and looked towards his bed, grimacing as he acknowledged he wouldn’t be using it any time soon. Sleep was a luxury rather than a necessity, and he would do without until they left. But he couldn’t do without clothing—who knew when and if further action would become necessary? He had to be ready for anything, including shielding his skin from the sun. Bane donned the only clothes he owned—jeans, boots and a T-shirt—and grabbed a black cloak from the recesses of a shelf. He twisted the piece of dense, closely woven fabric into a belt and knotted it around his waist with a sigh. Bane always hated the way any clothing restricted his movements and the cumbersome material encasing his torso only deepened his irritation, but there was no question of his not taking it with him—the cloak had given him a few minutes grace and saved him from a grisly death more than once.

  Shutting down the generator that powered the few items he needed for entertainment rather than comfort, he checked his cell had charged fully before putting it in silent mode and slipping into the pocket of his jeans. His life would be on hold for the next few days but if Ulrich should require Bane’s attention, he would have no choice but to take the call. Not that he’d be able to drop everything and go do his Master’s bidding this time. The old man would just have to send Solomon to clean up his latest mess. Bane had more important matters at hand and no time to help Ulrich win another of his petty, ego-driven battles.

  He ran towards their camp, drawn closer by the knowledge they were asleep. The sound of Amber’s gentle snores, barely audible under David’s ear-splitting grunts, perturbed him. A longing he thought he’d overcome sparked to life in his chest and he thought back to a time when his love would sleep soundly in his arms, safe in the knowledge he would keep her from harm.

  Bane envied David. The woman sharing his sleeping quarters might not want him but David could still find love one day, and he wouldn’t have to face eternity without her when she died.

  A change in the rhythm of Amber’s breathing warned Bane she would wake imminently and he moved away, scanning the area around him, ensuring he would be shrouded in darkness before settling down to watch them again. The sound of the tent’s zipper ripping open announced the start of their day a few minutes later. David appeared first, half-naked in no more than his boxers, and looking mighty proud of himself. He stretched and preened as he stared out over the ocean, patting and rubbing his torso like a displaying mountain gorilla. Bane fought the urge to laugh out loud.

  The woman emerged a few minutes later. More modest than the man, she had donned a bathing suit and taken her long auburn hair out of the bun she’d worn the day before. Bane turned away when he found he couldn’t drag his gaze from her shapely form. A dark hunger roared to life in his gut—as it did whenever he hunted or had sex—but he pushed it away, disgusted with himself and her. How dare she force her presence on him and reduce him to no more than a reluctant voyeur? But even as his thoughts railed at her, he knew his anger was misplaced. It had been way too long since he’d been with a woman, if a semi-naked one affected him so. His sex drive had always been strong—as it was with most of his kind—but still controllable. Bane’s reaction to Amber was a weakness on his part. Unchecked desire could cloud his mind and make him an easier target. He rarely allowed anything to distract him so.

  He grinned as he remembered the boy—for that’s what David seemed to Bane—trying to make a manly show of carrying the woman off after s
he’d sensed something watching them. His weak legs had trembled under the strain and the situation must have been humiliating for both of them. The thought pulled him up short. What did it matter to him how they felt? Once, in a former life, he’d cared. And where had it got him? His only love had died mere feet away with him helpless to stop it. Since that day, nobody’s feelings had mattered. Not even his.

  Bane’s gaze returned to Amber, following the path of the sun’s early rays playing on her pale skin. Freckles danced across her nose and the back of her shoulders, a shade lighter than her hair. The breeze carried her essence to him, intensifying her assault on his senses as a heady mix of synthetic orchids and perfume chemicals burned his nose but did nothing to mask her natural, almond-like scent.

  She turned her body towards the island, fluffing her auburn tresses around her head and smiling up into the sky before staring directly at him. Had her vision been as sharp as his, she would have seen him watching her and, no doubt noticed his reaction, but she simply closed her eyes and allowed the heat to warm her face. The impact of her stare hit Bane like a kick in the chest. His fingers dug into the rough bark of the tree beneath him, holding him still and preventing him from following the urge to leap from his hiding place and fall at her feet.

  Mary. She had Mary’s eyes.

  For one insane moment, he wondered if he’d conjured up the image of his dead wife by thinking of her. The woman below held a striking resemblance to her that he hadn’t noticed until that very second, probably because he hadn’t seen her clearly without the dark glasses she wore. But the moment he looked into her eyes, he understood the reason for his fascination with her.

  The complication didn’t help his situation one bit. A fluke of nature had just ensured her survival. To end her life would be like killing his beloved Mary and losing her all over again. A sudden wave of pain rendered him helpless. Centuries had passed since he’d last felt her loss so deeply.