by Isa Fae
Fuck him. Fuck his oatmeal. She drew in a deep breath and walked by him until she was in the living room.
Miranda went to the sofa and flopped down, gazing into the flames flickering in the fireplace. If she wanted to, she could twitch her finger and the entire cabin would go up in smoke. But she couldn’t afford to use her magic for something so senseless. She’d have nowhere to go. And Eric would more than likely survive since he had his hunter Fae magic. Only if Mason would have sent someone weaker to hunt her. But she knew Mason only hired the best. Of course, he could do that since he stockpiled all the magic and basically owned the faction.
She glanced around the room, finally having the time to evaluate it. Since she got here she hadn’t had much time to look over the rooms. She and Eric were always too busy fighting about something. It was pretty simple looking really. Candles on the mantle. That’s when she noticed the shelf with books in the corner.
She stood up and crossed the room until she was in front of the shelf. Pulling out one of the books, she glanced at the cover. A gold medallion in the shape of a pentagram. She traced the medallion with her fingers, remembering back to when she was a child. Her mother had one of these books. They were the spell books from the old world. Miranda didn’t remember much about that world, except that it was almost as cold as it was here. Then a war. Something happened. She tugged at her memory, but all she could recall was being rushed into a portal.
She carefully replaced the book and something on top of the shelf caught her attention. A record player. This item actually made her smile. She hadn’t listened to music in a very long time. And she knew, if the cabin had one of these, there had to be records around here somewhere.
Looking around, she didn’t see any sign of them. Unless, they were put away somewhere in another room.
“Oatmeal?”
She jumped, startled by Eric’s voice. She’d been so caught up investigating everything she hadn’t heard him entering the room. She swiftly turned around.
Eric stood in the entranceway of the living room holding two bowls in his hand, steam rising from both of them. Damn. She’d have to interact with him again.
Miranda slowly walked over to him and took one of the bowls, refusing to spare him a single glance. He didn’t deserve it. As she began to walk away, he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her back to him and causing the tingles to dance around inside her stomach. “What are you doing?” She snapped at him as she narrowed her eyes, refusing to give into the tingles.
“Look, I normally don’t apologize.” His gaze was intense, as was his voice. “It’s just something I don’t do. But, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
No, this isn’t happening. Miranda’s head became clouded, confused. She didn’t know what to think anymore. As much as she wanted to believe him and accept his apology, she just couldn’t. Not now. This was too much. “Eric, let me go.”
“Miranda.” His eyes pleaded with hers.
“I’m not going to tell you again, Eric.” She made the warning apparent in her voice. He knew what she was capable of. Even though it would mean another fighting match. One which she would more than likely lose again, but she just needed to get away from him right now.
Eric released her and Miranda spun around, quickly rushing toward the hallway to the sanctuary of the room, hot tears tugging at the corners of her eyes, more confused than ever.
23
Eric
What the hell was that? And where did that even come from?
Apologizing. Eric Winters had never apologized to anyone before. He had no idea what this woman was doing to him. If he wasn’t able to sense her magic, he’d think she had cast a spell on him. But he could sense her magic and new damn well that wasn’t the case.
He placed his bowl of oatmeal down and walked over to where she had been standing when he entered the room. Something had piqued her interest. Gazing over the shelf of books, he noticed an old looking box on the top of the shelf. Eric smiled, knowing just what it was. A record player. His parents had one of these. There were nights he would dance with his mother for hours while his father sat back and watched them. Then the witches…no, Eric refused to think about that.
He picked the box up and there was a square case underneath it. An actual record. Eric didn’t think these things even existed anymore. He opened the record player and then slipped the record from its case, placing it on the platter. With a click of his fingers, it began to spin, soft instrumental music bringing him a sense of calmness.
Eric turned around and went over to the sofa, sitting down and stretching his legs out. After everything that had happened lately, this was exactly what he needed. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting the music flow through him. Thoughts floated in and out of his head, his muscles loosening and relaxing against the cushions of the sofa. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt this sense of calmness. Everything was always so extreme with him. Hunting witches and Fae who were breaking faction rules. Sleeping only an hour at a time every night. If it were up to him, he’d stay here, just like this, forever.
“Eric.” Her soft voice blended in with the melody of the music.
He opened his eyes and turned his head, surprised to see her leaning against the entrance of the living room, gazing at him with her intense green eyes. She didn’t move. Didn’t even blink as she waited for a response. He wasn’t sure if it was an illusion or not, but a glow seemed to surround her as she stood there in the pair of black pants and black tank top he had chosen for her earlier. The woman was the sexiest thing he had ever laid eyes on. And he still couldn’t be sure if she was real or not. He could have only been dreaming of Miranda. That was it. He was dreaming. It was the only way he could make sense out of any of this.
She swallowed hard and pulled the edge of her lip in her mouth, biting it. The motion caused him to draw in a slow, deep breath. It took everything he had to remain on the sofa. But she was an illusion. Just a sick trick his mind was playing on him.
“You found a record.” She shifted nervously in the entranceway, as if speaking to him frightened her. He wondered if he really did scare her that much.
Eric still remained silent, knowing it would be useless speaking to a woman who wasn’t really there. Miranda was in the bedroom, still seething more than likely. She would never come to him without being ordered to do so. And even ordered, she would fight him with everything she had.
She sighed, and then briefly closed her eyes before slowly walking toward him. As she neared, the scent of strawberries and floral surrounded him. The same scent he remembered when he first entered the cabin. Miranda took a seat next to him, the cushion slightly sinking in.
His jaw tensed. This Miranda was no illusion. She was very much real.
She sat on the edge of the sofa, legs together and elbows on her knees, hands supporting her perfectly shaped chin. “Is it too late to accept your apology?” Her voice was low, almost a whisper as she focused on the fire flickering in the fireplace on the far side of the room.
“No.” Eric kept his answer simple, fearing something stupid would come out of his mouth and ruin the moment if he said anything more. The witch had definitely changed him somehow, and he had no idea how she managed to do it. But for right now, he would just go with it.
Miranda seemed to relax a bit. She sat back on the sofa and pulled her legs up, sitting cross-legged with her back against the cushion. “I don’t really want to fight anymore, Eric. It’s pointless. You always win.”
Eric closed his mouth and laughed silently, even though he was sure she could feel the sofa moving. “You know, we could always call a truce.”
She sighed as if she were thinking. “Yeah, we could. You know, I guess until the storm is over and you have to return me to Mason.”
The storm. Miranda had no idea it was over, and Eric would keep that information to himself. For now, he’d enjoy the moment with her. Figure out what he was going to do before
he made the next move.
“I missed the sound of music.” She closed her eyes, savoring the sound just like he had. “My mother used to play it for me. She would even sing me to sleep at nights. Mason wouldn’t let us play music in the house.”
Eric wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or directing her words to him. But, either way, she was opening up. Not a lot. But it was something. He wanted to ask her what happened to her mother, if she was still alive. But he didn’t want to push her.
Then he got an idea. Eric stood up and turned around to face her. “Dance with me.” He held his hand out to her.
She opened her eyes and stared at him as if his words were foreign to her. “I don’t…I’ve never danced before.”
“Well, I guess we’re about to change that.”
24
Miranda
Miranda slowly reached her hand out to Eric, not exactly sure how any of this would pan out. She hoped this wasn’t another one of his games because she couldn’t take much more of them. “I don’t know how to dance.” She gazed up at him from underneath her lashes.
He took her hand, his crystal blue eyes locking onto hers, and pulled her to her feet, her body pressing against his bare chest. There was no humor on his face as he looked down at her. Not even the hint of a smile. His expression remained soft, his lips pressed together. “There’s always a first for everything.”
Flutters erupted in her stomach, her heart beating so fast it nearly burst from her chest, when he placed both of his hands on her hips. Her mind was spinning out of control, so many emotions clashing together inside of her. She was treading into dangerous territory and she knew it.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he whispered into her ear, causing little bumps of excitement to spring up over her skin.
This was one demand she wouldn’t fight. Being close to Eric in this way felt good, natural, even though her anxiety was running on high. But it didn’t change the fact she had never danced before. Ever.
“Close your eyes, Miranda. Listen to the music.” His voice was the music. The music which lit up her soul. But she could never let him know that.
Miranda closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against him, letting him guide her smoothly around the room as the sweet melody played in the background. The palms of her hands tingled as they lay flat against his skin. The tingly feeling swept down, settling in between her legs again.
His arms slid further around her waist, his hands moving over to the small of her back, pulling her tighter against him. The music, the sensation of his body so close, and the strange things going on inside her made it difficult for her to think. Her mind filled with quietness, a sense of peace she had never known.
She could stay like this forever, in his arms and surrounded by his warmth, if she could. And just for now, she would pretend it was all possible. She would pretend he actually cared for her, the way she craved for him and not just because they agreed to a truce. She knew she was more than likely setting herself up for more heartbreak. But it didn’t matter anymore. If her life would be cut short, she would know what it would feel like to experience love. The feeling of acceptance and want. So, for right now, she would just continue to pretend that all of this was real. She would savor this moment and tuck it away deep inside of her and never let it go.
“Miranda.”
Eric’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up at him, meeting those damn eyes again. “Yeah.”
“The music is over.” His expression remained soft, his lips pressed together. And even though he told her the music was over, his arms didn’t release her, they wrapped snug around her, a perfect fit.
“Um…okay.” She really didn’t know how to respond to him. And she wasn’t able to take her eyes off his lips. She knew what they felt like in other places. Amazing. Perfect. And now it made her curious about how they would feel pressed against her own lips. She was sure the feeling would be just as amazing.
“So, we can be friends now?” He asked, lifting his brows in question. “No more fighting?”
Her entire world crashed down on her with that one word. Friends. Her fantasy was over and now that word forced her back into reality. He didn’t want her in the way she wanted him to want her. Of course, she already knew that. But hearing it come from his own mouth made it even worse. Hurtful. Painful. Like a bolt of lightning had struck her down and her heart had been reduced to a pile of ash. Friends. “Sure.” Miranda tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure how it turned out. Would Eric realize it was forced? That she was actually hiding the hurt and the darkness eating away inside of her?
“So, no more fighting, right?”
He still hadn’t let go of her. And, now, she wished he would so she could go find a corner to cry in. No. She wouldn’t cry because she was stronger than that. She’d handled a hell of a lot before, and she could handle this as well. “Yeah, Eric. No more fighting.”
Another song began to play, and he tightened his hold on her. “One more dance?” His eyes lit up as he watched her, waiting for an answer. But she knew she wouldn’t get her hopes up again. This didn’t mean anything. It was just a dance. Nothing more.
She nodded her head, unable to speak this time as the tears threatened to fall. As Eric began to sway again, she dropped her head to his chest. This time she couldn’t hold the moisture back.
Eric suddenly stopped, and she knew she’d been caught. Shit. She didn’t want him to see this side of her. He removed one of his hands from around her and took a step back, taking her chin in his hand and lifting it up.
“Miranda, are you crying?” He drew his eyebrows in as he looked at her, studying every feature on her face.
No, jackass. Not crying at all. Just a waterfall sprouting from my eyes. “No.” She stomped her foot, her temper threatening to make an appearance. “Now, dance.”
Eric let her face go and replaced his arm back around her without another word. She pressed her face into his bare chest, savoring his scent, as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
Friends. If that was what he wanted than that was what they would be. Nothing more and nothing less. Regardless, she wouldn’t shed anymore tears for this man. She was done.
25
Eric
Things were going well, and then he didn’t know what had happened. Since they danced a few days ago, Miranda had barely spoken a word to him. In fact, it seemed she was doing everything in her power to avoid him. Eric thought calling a truce would make her happy, get her to open up to him a little more.
She had started to open up. She’d came to him. Danced with him. And he managed to hold her in his arms again. Maybe, he was kidding himself. Maybe, Miranda didn’t feel the same way he felt about her. But then, after he thought about it, things didn’t go downhill until he mentioned the word friends. Her tears dampened his chest after that. Didn’t she want to be friends? Wasn’t that how everything normally started?
He sat on the sofa, wine glass in hand and music playing in the background, mesmerized by the flame in the fireplace. He hadn’t realized being trapped in a cabin would be this relaxing. And if someone would have told him that before, he would have laughed in their face.
But, he wanted more. He wanted Miranda to see him. Wanted to know what she was thinking and where he had went wrong. Because for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out.
“Eric,” her soft voice called to him.
He slowly turned his head and his heart skipped a beat when he saw her standing in the kitchen holding a pile of clothes in her arms. Her auburn hair was slightly tangled, her clothes flowing snugly over her curves. Green eyes a perfect contrast with her ivory skin. She was remarkable. Beautiful. And he could sit here all night just watching her, getting caught up in her beauty all over again. How he yearned again to take her in his arms. Even if it was only to dance. Eric would take anything she had to offer. He’d be satisfied with anything she had to give.
“I’m taking a shower.” She lean
ed her body against the entrance, her head tilted against the molding. “I wasn’t sure if I needed your permission or not. Or, if you needed to follow me in.”
As much as he wanted to think of it as an invitation. It wasn’t. Miranda was back to her sarcastic fiery self. He couldn’t deny he liked that side of her, but he loved the softer more sensual side of her even better. “No, go ahead.” He picked up his glass and took a sip of wine, knowing he had to give her the space she wanted even though he didn’t like it.
She turned around, and his gaze skimmed her body as she walked away. The further away she went, the colder Eric’s insides felt. He had no idea why she wouldn’t talk to him. Open up and tell him why she was acting this way. Acting as if he were an enemy instead of a…friend.
He turned back toward the fire and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. One more day. Every night he would tell himself this. Just one more day and then he would give her back to the Lord. But each day turned into another. And another. His mind was in turmoil. The hunter in him knew he had to complete his mission. But he still didn’t want to give her up. He needed more time.
Eric opened his eyes and stood up, walking to the kitchen. He poured the remaining wine out of his glass and put the glass in the sink. Walking down the hallway, he stopped briefly at the bathroom door, debating once again on whether he should enter. No. He wouldn’t do that to her again. He’d upset her enough already, even though he had no clue what he did wrong.
He continued into the bedroom, taking off his jeans and sliding into the bed. Sleep. That was what he needed. Maybe, he could sort everything out in his dreams.
Miranda entered the room, her hair damp and in nothing but a tank top and her underwear. Seeing her like this would never get old. She crawled into her side of the bed and rolled over toward him, which shocked him. For the past few nights, she refused to face him. But there she was, eyes bright and full of questions.