Nicholas. All of the emotions she had contained since she had left him suddenly overpowered her, the tears streaming from her eyes. Her numbness had worn off and her agony raged, sending her out of her control. She sprang up from her bed, pacing erratically, stopping to focus on the lights of Seascape City that flickered in the shroud of mist far down below. He was down there somewhere within those lights, but she’d never have him, again.
The royals had placed a missing person alert on her, perhaps fearing that she’d expose to all of Urania their true natures. They had betrayed her—humiliated her—and right now Nicholas was in Audrey’s arms ...
No, she wasn’t ‘princess material’, like Cronala had said. But that was one fact, at least, that she could be proud of.
Skye’s fury came out of her in a primal scream. She shrieked out her pain, again and again, her cries echoing out over the city, for no one to hear.
***
Nicholas stared up into the darkness, brooding. The quiet gloom of his room suited his mood, his mind being a tangled web of misery. Four days had past since Skye had left him, and now it was another night that he was spending alone in his bed.
She hadn’t returned to him, but he refused to accept it as fact that she wouldn’t. She may be intent on staying away, but it was only a matter of time before she was recognized, or before she tried to access her accounts. She hadn’t yet, but she would—she had tried to get at her funds in Dakota, and she would try again—and he must resolve himself to be patient. But, patience wasn’t a virtue common to him.
She had hid herself very well, this time. There were frenzied reports of sightings of her coming in from all over Adriel, but so far, the investigators hadn’t found a true lead. The reporters certainly wanted to know more about her, and his parents had pity on him, dealing with the relentless barrage of questions while he retreated to his rooms—to think, to try to find any clue that would lead him to her whereabouts. He raked his mind, but found he hadn't a clue.
His family commiserated with him, coming in turns to check on him. They were all concerned about him and about Skye—Royce, for his own personal reasons. His brother had survived the party—albeit with a hangover that made him wish that he were dead—and, instead of browbeating him for his infatuation with Skye, he chose to make him an ally in their worry. His mother and father had kind words and hopeful encouragement for him, as did his sweet sister, Celeste. Even the brattiest of the bratty, his little sister, Selina, had come to see him.
“Don’t worry, Nicholas,” she said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Skye will turn up.”
She had tried to cheer him, but for Selina to be nice to him, he knew that he was in dire straits.
The irony wasn’t lost upon him, about the sad shape that he was in. All of his life he'd had anything that he desired—with a snap of his fingers, the females they would come, and he’d do with them as he pleased. And now the one woman he truly wanted, he couldn’t have. She must not feel the same way about him as he did about her, or she would be here with him, now. She always had wanted to leave him, and this he had blamed on her strange and unreasonable fears. But, maybe there was more to it. Who knew what that woman was thinking!
Howbeit, he simply refused to let her leave him like this. She owed him—at least—the chance for him to explain. It all was a complete misunderstanding.
He had gone to her rooms searching for any clues and found that she had left everything behind, but for the clothes she wore. She had taken the jewels he had given her with her, aside from the hairpiece that he had found on the floor next to the wall, no doubt thrown in her rage. At least she had wanted that memento of him, but she didn’t want all of him—or his royal name.
“Why?” he groaned. What made her so different? He knew that she was raised like a gypsy and that she had most likely returned to that way of life; it had been four days and she hadn’t tried her accounts. Still, she would be in need of some provisions, and she’d go into a populous where someone would see her and send in a call. He wanted to go out there and search for her himself, but his parents had warned him that it would be foolish—all of the subjects were watching for her. He must be patient. The wilderness was too vast of an area—she could be anywhere—but he secretly vowed that, if she weren’t found soon, he would go out and scour every inch of it to find her.
He refused to think about the possibility that she couldn’t return to him, that something had happened to her. He felt it in his heart that she lived. He swore, at times, that he could feel her anger.
Nicholas noticed that the sun was rising, brightly invading his gloom. He felt the familiar pangs as he remembered the sunrises he'd had with her. He was brought back into his exquisite memories of her, of how they had walked the beach, making love in the sand. He had enjoyed every moment with her—even when she drove him mad—for he loved talking with her ... her intelligence, her natural wit. True, she was strange and very unique—he remembered thinking that she had practically been raised by wolves, about how odd it was that she had no need for money, that she’d rather be out in the wilds enjoying treacherous terrains, places like Beacon Hill—
He bolted upward in sudden inspiration.
“Beacon Hill!”
She had said—while they were sipping their margaritas—that she and her father had stayed there once. Wouldn’t it be logical that it would be a place where she’d want to return?
Nicholas sprang off his bed, his adrenaline surging within him. He set about gathering the supplies he would need for his trek. Beacon Hill covered a vast expanse of many miles, but if she were there, he would find her.
Alive with hope once more, he headed off to his ship.
Chapter 19
The breeze flowed warmly, rolling gently through the soft brush, raising the scents of the wildflowers that spotted the landscape with color, the blues mingling against the cloudless, pastel sky. The bright sun glowed high above in this late afternoon, trying to dry the soaking rains that had fallen last night. The blinding flashes glittered off the waterfall while Skye bent, filling her canteen to quench her thirst. She had a few swallows of the cool soothing water, taking in the pureness of nature.
This was her fifth day here. The hours had meshed into days, the sunrises eventually giving way to the sunsets, the nights long in her misery. This was where she belonged, away from confining emotions and walls ... but it didn’t seem the same. Her father was no longer here to guide her, although at times she was sure that she sensed his comforting spirit near her. But, the fact of the matter was that now she walked alone. There was no one to share her thoughts with, to lighten the burden of her soul. Even so, she vowed that her tears were over, that she wouldn’t wallow in the despair of her betrayal. It simply wasn’t worth it.
She said it aloud again, as she had these past days: “They don’t want me, they don’t get to have me.”
Still, at night, sometimes her tears would flow ...
Nicholas. It seemed eons ago when she had first resolved that she wouldn’t let her love for him destroy her, and she had that same determination now. She had watched him on her computer tablet as the news replayed the royal birthday again and again, seeing his smiling blue-green eyes, his wonderful demeanor. He wasn’t available to answer the reporters’ questions about her disappearance, leaving his parents to that chore, not wanting to bother with the unpleasantness. He, no doubt, found amusement in the arms of Audrey—or perhaps even another woman. She had turned off the viewer, denying her self-abuse, and decided that the only thing her tablet was good for was the program of a mirror. Even that was no good to her, for she didn’t like to look, seeing the undeniable sadness in her violet-blue eyes.
She decided to simply become one with the wilds, leaving behind the world and its trappings ...
Although Nicholas was in her every thought, one day he would surely fade and she would be her own again ... if she could just refuse to feel him and could find a way to close off her heart from her intellec
t. Love was a base emotion, a frivolous notion that made a woman a fool. She didn’t want to be a fool, and truly didn’t need anyone for her survival. So, what good was it, to have her emotions so twisted by a man that it gave her nothing but pain?
Someday, she would find a way to unravel her psyche, but she hadn’t succeeded, yet. In fact, not at all ...
It seemed that his very presence lived within her, for she felt him always—surrounding her, captivating her. As of now she experienced a surge, sensing that he was near to her—even that his eyes were upon her. She shook her head to send her imagination away, fearing a perpetual punishment from the Lord above, and headed back to her camp.
Skye couldn’t know that her instincts were in tune. Very intense blue-green eyes were watching her ...
Nicholas had found her, with relative ease. He had taken his ship on a slow hover over Beacon Hill, starting at the most logical point nearest the city, the most accessible area for those traveling on foot. Although he was miles above, his ship, being modified with its FAS capabilities, had an advanced geo tracker that scanned the wide region in sections. It searched for the thermal fluxuations that would be a Human form, filtering out all of the static except for the fluxes. He had zoomed in for a better look when he found them, his hopes dashed when seeing a stray hiker, here and there. But, after three full sweeps, his good luck that he'd thought he'd lost had returned, for there she was atop a plateau, dawdling by a stream.
The relief he felt was matched by his euphoria, and he had landed his ship in the nearest clearing. He took up his backpack and used a mapper—a device from the geo tracker that pinpointed her coordinates—to hunt her, making his way through the rugged terrain. When he reached the plateau and he saw her by a waterfall, taking a drink from her canteen, he wanted to run to her but he held back, deciding not to let his presence be known, just yet.
Hiding behind the tall thicket, he watched her while she savored the gentle waterfall’s mist. He thoroughly enjoyed his voyeurism, for she was half-naked, wearing only a simple pale-blue shirt that scarcely reached to her thighs, the cuffs drawn back to the elbow, her long legs tanned and slender and her feet bare. Her red-gold tresses flowed around her, across her full soft breasts and down to her shapely hips, a splendid array that shimmered like a flickering fire in the sun. Her face was as lovely as ever, having the healthy glow, her high cheeks a dark rose, her full lips pouting and her violet-blue eyes sparkling.
She turned and headed for her camp. She was in her natural environment, moving on her bare feet with the grace and poise of a cat. She was completely at ease out in the wilds, but this same woman could wear a fashionable gown and charm the wits out of anyone in a stately ballroom. Mesmerized, he took in her beauty, understanding why he was so smitten.
With one hand she drew her heavy tresses behind her while she bent, and took up a fishing line. She sauntered off toward a deeper part of the stream, in search of a meal. He stealthily moved through the thicket, finding a clearer view ...
She cast out her line and half sat on a smooth boulder, having the patience to wait for her unsuspecting prey. She hadn’t too long to wait as her line soon bowed, taut with the struggle of the fish at the other end. She skillfully reeled in her catch—an excellent specimen of a trout—but before she was the victor, the fish broke free. She scrambled after her slippery prize, out into the water, splashing frantically after its tail. Her foe had a most fierce spirit but she won the battle, capturing it by its scales and flinging it up onto the bank where it flopped in its defeat.
Nicholas nearly laughed aloud at the display but he caught himself, stifling his amusement. She took her winnings in hand, pleased with its size, keeping its struggles under her control while she moved back to her camp to prepare her tasty treat.
He held his breath as she came near, for he was very close to her camp. Her soaked shirt clung to her curves, her full breasts round and clear beneath the pale blue, the pointed tips straining, setting his pulse on a quicker beat. She didn’t detect him while she went about her day, cleaning the fish and then preparing her cookware, popping up the round side of the flat pan and snapping it into place for her use, doing the same to her bowl and cup. She placed more wood on the fire and set it ablaze, going about cooking her meal. His eyes were intent on her breasts, his hands craving their feel, but he sternly told himself that he must be patient, that he couldn’t just rush out and ravish her; he must set things straight with her before he attempted his seduction. Plus, he sensed that he was on the verge of a significant discovery, as if he would gain some insight into her complicated mien ...
She sat in her folding chair next to the fire and began to eat, enjoying her fish and a pasty red berry and leafy green concoction she had previously made, being well versed in her knowledge of nature’s bounty. He had learned his survival skills years ago in his training to be a FAS pilot, but she had lived them since childhood, and this was as natural of a meal to her as a full banquet was to him. She wasn’t like most women who needed all of the amenities to be contented. It intrigued him how she could be one with the wilds, untamed like a lioness—yet always tamed by his hand.
When she was satisfied with her meal, she rose and tidied up her camp, rinsing her dishes off in the stream and then collapsing them. She returned to check her clothes that she had previously washed, that were hanging up on a tree limb. Seeing of their dryness, she took them down and folded them, putting them away in a travel bag, all but for a large crimson towel. She brought this and a grainy sponge with her while she moved off for the waterfall, and his breath came faster in his anticipation as he realized that she was about to bathe. He moved lithely and carefully, to find the best view.
She raised her shirt, pulling it over her head and off her arms, revealing her bare magnificence. She tossed the shirt out onto the bank and took the sponge off her towel, and moved into the cool water, cautiously at first and then taking the plunge with a gasp. She came up for air, drenched, her wet hair plastered to her firm breasts and waist—a seductive nymph rising from the pool. She glided over to the waterfall and used the falling streams to cleanse her, spreading her heavy hair out for the crystal minerals, turning her face up into the rushing waves.
His desire for her came to the point of an ache as she slowly ran the sponge upon her, down her arms and then across her breasts, the sheen of her skin like a blinding light. He had to turn his eyes away while she washed other areas, or he would lose his control and go to her and take her in the shimmering water, and again know her sensuality, the passion of her touch. He must wait ... he must keep his patience ...
Nicholas sighed in his relief when he heard the splashes while she stepped out from the pond, and thought that it was safe to look; it wasn’t. She stood there toweling herself off, her uncommon curves slanting with her movements, her full breasts rising and falling temptingly before him. He must have made a sound, for she glanced in his direction, startled. He held his breath as she debated about what she had heard, and then she shrugged it off, thinking perhaps that he was a bird within the bush. She wrapped the towel around her, and she moved for her camp. He followed quietly, back to his covert position.
She dressed in a pair of black leggings and a warm long-sleeved shirt, for the shadows were coming and soon would bring the dark of night. He hoped that he could relax seeing her so clothed, but his longing for her didn’t lessen, her nearness keeping him on a steady burn. She placed a few more logs onto the fire, setting it ablaze again, and sat down in her chair to brush out her hair, untangling the soft tresses. He should go to her now and show to her that she had been found, and that there was no escape from him. He’d pretend that he had just arrived, and he’d give her a severe tongue-lashing for scaring him half to death. But, while he stood there, he realized that he must be careful in how he handled this. He must convince her that she wanted to be with him or she could slip away again—and this time hide in some cavern where he would never find her.
As he debated about what
to say, the shadows grew long and the clouds were coming in, promising of rain. Still, he weighed his dilemma and discovered that—in all actuality—he was nervous. It wasn’t an emotion familiar to him in his dealings with women, but, then again, she wasn’t just a woman. She was his woman. She just didn’t know it, yet.
He was about to step out and make his physique known when she rose from the chair and went over to her belongings. She picked up a square backpack and opened it. Inside there was a Fireside guitar, and she brought it with her, back to her chair. She pulled the slender neck of the compact guitar up and out from its place behind its body, and the six strings lengthened, coming out from the inlaid bridge, stretching into place and electronically tuning to a perfect pitch. Now ready for her use, she sat and strummed off a few chords, having a steady and practiced hand, and she turned on the acoustic mode, wanting a mellower tone than the electronics. Her red-gold brows were drawn slightly in a frown while she absently plucked at the strings, and he wondered what sorrow plagued her; he hoped that it was he. He settled back, deciding to postpone his appearance, eager to hear her talent ...
Skye strummed her guitar, lost in her thoughts. The feel of the instrument comforted her, reminding her of those long ago moments she had shared with her papa. She knew that she must leave this place and move on soon—to see what was over the next hill—but by doing that, she truly would leave Nicholas behind. She wasn’t ready to do that, just yet. She must somehow clear her mind of him before she left the nearness of the palace, or his memory would follow her everywhere.
Today her imagination of his presence had been so strong to her that she could almost feel his touch. She had nearly been overtaken by her desire to have his hands upon her. She must forget about him and be on her sojourn, and go wherever the wind would take her ... although she knew that such adventures wouldn’t fill the eternal emptiness within her heart. Still, her father’s spirit would always be with her wherever she went, to guide her.
The Princess of the Wild (The Royals of Adriel Book 2) Page 22