“And the girl?”
“My Chosen. He influenced her to allow him liberties.”
“Is she . . . ?” he eyes me worriedly.
“No, no, thank the goddesses she is safe.”
Damien’s father nods. “Fear not, Son, justice shall be swift.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Guards, in a line.”
“Yes, Sir.” The guards line up the four men, including my assailant. I watch in horror as Damien’s father draws a sword and offers it to Damien. A freaking sword!
“Son, it was the honor of you and yours that was challenged. I offer you their lives.” He holds the sword out flat in front of him, resting on both hands.
Damien kisses my forehead and steps forward. I can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed. He’s not going to . . .
“Thank you, Father.” He takes the sword and stands before the four kneeling men. He is! My eyes grow wide as he methodically removes the first three men’s heads. Without hesitation, without a pause, he just lops them right off and leaves the bleeding bodies on the ground.
He stops in front of the man who attacked me. “I warned you, and yet you continued to push. You forsaken are all the same—”
“Your family is going to destroy our race!” the remaining man yells, struggling against the men holding him in place.
Damien continues as though the man hasn’t spoken. “Your punishment befits you. May the goddesses cast their faces from you forever.” With a swift, graceful movement, he beheads the last man as well, then he hands the sword to a guard.
My eyes are glued to the corpse as it falls forward, spurting blood. In a state of shock, I watch the red pool grow larger and larger.
“You know what to do,” Damien says to the guards who set to work doing something with the bodies. Damien walks back to me and pulls me away so I can’t see any more.
“D . . . Damien . . . ?” I look at him and can hardly believe he’s just . . . killed four people. “You . . . you just killed those men. Doesn’t that bother you? Why aren’t you bothered? Have you killed before? Damien, answer me! You’re a murderer!” I’m vaguely aware my voice has become hysterical. Damien hugs me to himself tightly, ignoring my attempts to pull away.
“Father,” he speaks over my babbling. “Help her, please. Make her forget.”
“Forget? Forget! How could I possibly forget?” I shriek.
“Damien,” his father says solemnly. “I suggest you tell her the truth.”
“Truth? There’s more to this?”
“I cannot, not yet, Father. And she cannot possibly understand what has just happened in her current state of mind. Please, I beg of you. I would never have wished her to suffer this night.”
“Damien, what’s going on?”
Damien’s father sighs, as though a great burden has been placed upon him. “You are sure? She gets no choice?”
No choice? What are they talking about?
“Yes, Father, it will be as though this night never happened.”
“Damien, are you going to kill me now?”
“Very well, but do not ask this of me ever again, Son.”
“Damien, stop ignoring me!” Damien lets got of me, finally, and I consider running for it.
“Miss Elysabeth, please look at me.” Startled by his form of address, I do as Damien’s father asks. Relax, and allow yourself to forget. I can feel my memories of the night slipping away, despite my desperate attempt to hold on to them. Sleep now. My eyes grow heavy, and I know no more.
***
“Elysabeth, dearest, the movie is over, we must leave.”
I sit up from where I’m leaning against Damien. “Huh? Oh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I guess I’ve been working too hard on finals. Oh, geez, I didn’t snore, did I?”
Damien chuckles. “No, Chérie, not at all, you were completely silent. I do not blame you for falling asleep. I nearly nodded off myself.” I grin and follow Damien out of the theater. I decide not to go anywhere else, since it’s obvious that I need more sleep.
Damien walks me up to my door and sees me inside. “Thanks, Damien. I’m sorry I wasn’t much fun tonight.”
“That is quite all right, Chérie. It is a pleasure simply being with you.” He pulls me close, holding on like he’s giving me a last hug before claiming my lips with a toe-curling kiss that leaves me breathless.
“Goodness, Damien, you act like you’ll never see me again. I’ll still be here tomorrow.”
The look in his eyes is haunted, and I’m suddenly sure something bad has happened. But that’s ridiculous, right?
“Damien? I will see you tomorrow?”
He blinks and his gaze warms. “Of course, Chérie. Good night.”
“Good night, Damien.” That night, I have terrifying dreams of being threatened with a knife, and Damien cutting people’s heads off with a sword.
***
The next week is finals, and, as always, it’s crazy. Most of my projects are finished, so I don’t have much extra work, but there’s still the stress of all of my final exams and presentations. Unfortunately, this all has the added detriment of making time fly. I’m relieved when I leave my final class Friday afternoon. My second-to-last term is finished. I only have one term left before I graduate. I must admit I’m getting excited.
Of course, now that the term is over, Damien will be leaving for London for most of our break. That thought saps much of the excitement and happiness from me instantly. At least he promised to spend the day with me before he leaves.
I realize I have yet to find Damien’s Christmas present. I want to give it to him before he leaves for London, since I don’t have an address for him there, and I don’t want to give it to him after Christmas. I would go shopping tonight, but I’m mentally exhausted, and I don’t think I’ll be able to tell if a gift is good or not. Instead, I go home, looking forward to relaxing.
Shawn is sprawled out on the sofa, looking as tired as I feel. He grins as I sit on the arm of the sofa. “Just one more left, then we’re free.”
I nod. “Yep. Thank goodness. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Shawn sits up and pats the sofa next to him. I sit and lean back against his shoulder. He slings his arm over me, letting me relax. “Shawnie, we haven’t been hanging out enough.”
“You’ve been busy.” His tone is guarded and I know he’s trying to be nice.
“Yeah. But I shouldn’t ever be too busy for my bestest buddy.” Although I can’t see his face, I know he’s smiling. He pokes me in my ticklish spot, making me squirm.
“Maybe we need to schedule a weekly game night.”
“You really want to get beaten every week?”
“Cocky little thing, aren’t you?” he teases.
“Not at all,” I say, using my best innocent look and voice. “Just asking an honest question.”
He snorts. “You can’t pull that on me. I know you too well. How about Thursdays?”
“That should work, at least until finals.” We’re silent for a bit, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. “Shawnie, catch me up on what’s been going on. Are you seeing anyone? Have you been doing anything new?” I hang my head guiltily. “I’m sorry I don’t already know.”
Shawn squeezes me. “It’s okay, Lys. And you don’t know because both answers are no. Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Just me, doing homework, playing some games.”
“Okay, then I don’t feel quite so bad.” I glance at the clock when my stomach rumbles. It’s nearly seven! No wonder I’m hungry.
Shawn chuckles, having heard my stomach. “Pizza and movie? I’m too tired to cook.”
“Me too. That sounds good.”
***
The next morning, I wake up to find myself using Shawn as a pillow. We must have fallen asleep during the movie. I have no idea how we managed to stay on the sofa. I try not to wake Shawn as I get up, but the sofa creaks, and he groans.
“Five more minutes,” he grum
bles. I giggle, and he cracks open an eye.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I say brightly.
Shawn rubs his face. “Did you leave me on the sofa all night?”
“Of course not! I just got off of it.”
“Guess we fell asleep,” he mumbles.
“Obviously. Since you’re up, thanks for the relaxing evening, Shawnie. It’s just what I needed.”
“Any time, Lys.”
“I’ve got to get going. See you later.”
Shawn waves at me and drops his head back onto the arm of the sofa. He’s fast asleep and snoring softly when I leave for the mall. Damien leaves for London tomorrow, I remind myself. I have to find him a gift today. The problem is I have no idea what to get him.
I walk through the stores slowly, hoping something will catch my eye. About halfway through the mall, feeling rather discouraged, I stop at the food court to eat lunch and regroup. There has to be something I can get him. I’m lost in thought as I eat my fries.
I can’t get him clothes. That doesn’t seem right, and I don’t know his size anyway. He doesn’t wear any jewelry other than his piercings. He’s not one for fancy belt buckles, so that’s out, too. A wallet seems too impersonal, so does a gift card. I can’t get him something for his room, as I have no clue what it looks like. And any gadget or gizmo I find, he’ll probably already have, considering his wealth.
I sigh and stand, having finished my food. I continue my walk through the mall, stopping at Hot Topic. They have a set of plain, black, leather wristbands that I consider getting. They tie on, providing a bit of decoration. I know they’ll look good on Damien, but I need to find something else, something better.
I almost pass by an antique housewares shop, but decide at the last second to take a look. It turns out to be an excellent decision, because there is a display of swords in the back. I’m instantly drawn to one in a black, leather scabbard with silver metal at both ends. I know I’ve found Damien’s gift. As I pick it up to take a closer look, a man appears at my shoulder.
“Just so you know, these are all unsharpened. That one that you’re holding is based on ancient Grecian short swords. Let me know if you have any questions.” He retreats back to the cash register.
“Okay, thanks!” I call after him. Smart man, he knows when to back off. I take a moment to really inspect the sword. The grip is ebony wood carved into a spiral. The protruding part to keep your hands from slipping onto the blade has an intricate, rune-like design carved into it.
The focus, though, seems to be the weighted bit at the end. I think it’s called a pommel. One side has the sun embossed on it. The other has the moon and a star.
The actual physical design of the sword is rather simple, allowing the decoration to stand out. The sword speaks to something deep within me, and I know it’s perfect.
Well, what are you waiting for?
I grin, giving in to my intuition, and carry the sword to the checkout counter. I’m positive Damien will love my gift.
***
I’ve just finished wrapping Damien’s present when my phone rings. I smile as I snatch it up eagerly to answer. “Hello, Damien.”
“Hello, Elysabeth, how are you?”
“Pretty good. I’m over the stress of the week, at least.” I lean back in my desk chair and start to twirl it. “I’ll get to see you today, right?” I hope he doesn’t think that’s as needy as it sounded.
“Yes, of course, Chérie.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I gave you my word, did I not?”
I’m sure he can hear my answering smile. “Yeah, that’s true. So what are we doing today?”
“I would like to do something that will allow us to simply talk, Elysabeth. I want to spend some quiet time together before I leave.”
I sit back up with a face-splitting smile. “I’d love that.” I pause a moment to consider our options. “How about you come over and we can hang out?”
“That sounds marvelous. I will see you soon.”
“Great, I’m looking forward to it.” In less time than I expect, he arrives and is knocking on the door. I smile widely, happy, as ever, to see him.
“Good ride over?”
“Yes, Chérie, but not as pleasant as arriving here and seeing you.”
I can feel the heat rushing to my face as I blush. “Thanks. Come on in.” I lead him into the living room but don’t sit down.
“Will you not join me, Chérie?” he asks, looking confused.
“Yeah, but in a moment. I’ve got to get something. Give me a second. I’ll be right back.” He nods and I hurry out of the room and upstairs to grab his gift, then back down. I walk back into the living room holding his present behind my back. Not that I can really hide it, with how large it is.
“What do you have, Chérie?”
“I bought your present early so I could make sure you had it for Christmas.”
He looks guilty. “Elysabeth, that is thoughtful, but I have nothing for you.”
“Don’t worry about that.” I stop trying to hide the box. “I saw this and knew it was perfect for you.” I set in on his lap with a grin. “I’d like you to open it here.” I giggle at his confused expression.
“This is not a rifle, Chérie, is it?”
“No, not at all. But you aren’t getting anything else out of me. Just open your gift. I want to see your reaction.” I’m practically bouncing with excitement.
He grins. “Very well, Chérie, as you desire. I wish I had a gift for you, but I had planned to find you something in London.”
“Don’t worry, really. That’s sweet of you. Now, open.”
He does as I ask, but as he’s pulling the paper up, he suddenly hisses in a breath and brings his finger to his mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Chérie,” he answers quickly. “Paper cut.”
“Come on,” I say, pulling on him. “Let’s get you a paper towel. Those stupid things always bleed like crazy.”
“No, Chérie, I am fine.”
I stare at him with a raised eyebrow. “Shawn would kill me if you got blood on his granny’s sofa.”
I give him a final tug and he follows me into the kitchen, finger still in his mouth. I pull a paper towel off the roll and take his hand. Sure enough, it’s a bleeder. But it doesn’t really look like a paper cut.
“This looks more like a puncture wound, Damien,” I look up at him. “How did you manage that?”
He shrugs without meeting my eyes. Odd. As I wrap his finger in the towel, I get blood on my own finger, and, without thought, I lift it to my mouth like I would if I had a cut.
He instantly grabs my hand with wide eyes. “Elysabeth! You must not!” Kind of an overreaction for a bit of blood.
“All right, sorry,” I pull my hand back. “I didn’t mean to gross you out.” I wash my hands and give him a band aid before we go back out to the living room.
“Forgive me, I am sensitive to blood.”
“But you stuck your finger in your mouth when you cut it?” With a raised brow and crossed arms, I’m sure I look as skeptical as I sound.
“A knee-jerk reaction, I assure you.”
I wave away his explanation. I hand him back his present and lean forward as he grasps the lid and lifts it away.
His eyes shoot wide with shock. “A sword, Elysabeth?”
His tone of voice catches me off guard. “Is something wrong?” I ask hesitantly.
His eyes meet mine. “No, not at all. I am simply surprised. I had not expected such a gift.” He turns his attention back to the sword. “It is exquisite.” He lifts it from the box slowly, almost reverently. “Wherever did you find this? It is an ancient design.”
“It was in a store at the mall. It sort of . . . spoke to me. I knew instantly it was for you. It’s unsharpened, but I doubt that matters.”
“No, it does not.” His eyes travel slowly, almost lovingly, from the tip of the handle to the end of the scabbard. He holds it close to examine the ha
ndle closely. “The carvings are rather unique. The sun and moon are not common adornments for a sword.”
“But they’re beautifully done, and just seemed right, somehow.” I can’t really explain to him how I knew it was the perfect sword.
He chuckles, softly. “Yes, it is rather perfect.” In a quick, familiar-looking gesture, he pulls the sword from the scabbard and holds it pointing outward. Testing the weight, perhaps? “It is well balanced. You chose a brilliant gift, Chérie.” His eyes meet mine, and they’re full of affection. “Thank you, truly.”
He returns the sword to the scabbard, another gesture he seems inexplicably familiar with, and places it carefully back in its box, which he sets on the table in front of him before pulling me close for a hug.
“I would cherish a sword such as this regardless, but from you, it is doubly precious.”
I grin at his whispered words, but then something clicks. “Do you collect swords?”
His eyes lose focus for a moment. “I suppose you could say that, but I never really thought of myself as a collector. I have, however, owned more than my fair share.”
“Do you collect any other type of weaponry?”
He shakes his head. “No, Chérie, swords have an elegance to them that I like.”
I nod. “I can easily see you wielding a sword.”
“Truly?” He looks rather surprised, though I can’t imagine why.
“Yeah, I think it would suit you. I can see you as a knight,” I hold out my arm as though holding a sword, “charging in to save the day. Or the night.” Lys, vampires don’t exist! “Anyway, I’m glad you enjoyed your gift, but we can hardly talk about swords all day. So . . . do you want to watch a movie?”
“As you wish.” After that line, there’s only one movie I can possibly choose. We watch it curled up on the sofa, cozy and content. When it finishes, Damien still has a couple of hours to kill.
“Do you like Underworld?” I ask slowly.
His tone is somewhat guarded. “Yes, why?”
I grin. “I love it. Selene and Michael are a formidable couple. And the vampires are so—” I almost say gorgeous. “So . . . awesome. You would fit right in.” I get carried away in my enthusiasm. “Have you ever been a vampire for Halloween? With your trench coat you’d really only need fangs.” My voice turns breathy as I picture it. “I bet you’d look hot.”
The Most Special Chosen (Exalted Bloodlines Book 1) Page 11