by Tenaya Jayne
Forest shook herself and tried to focus her attention on the movie. Her eyes stuck to the screen but her mind was on Syrus. Why did she feel guilty? She hadn’t locked him in there.
No, but she had made it plain that she wanted to be alone. Well, she did want to be alone. What was wrong with that? Wake up stupid! She told herself. He’s blind in unfamiliar surroundings. You may as well have locked him in that room.
Forest sighed and turned the TV off. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began drafting an email to Kindel, telling him that they had arrived safely at her cottage. Then she stood up and walked to the door of the spare room. She hesitated, listening. Maybe she shouldn’t bother him. Maybe he was asleep. He could be; she didn’t know his schedule.
Syrus hadn’t moved an inch since she’d left him. He had meditated for a while, but her presence just outside the door was distracting him. He waited, expecting her to either knock or go away, but she didn’t. She just stood there.
Forest wrestled with whether or not she should knock. If he was asleep, he wouldn’t want to be disturbed. But what if he was awake and bored? She thought about how he had been so happy a few hours ago because he said he wasn’t bored. Her heart gave a little lurch as she remembered how he looked when he smiled.
She started in reaction to her own thoughts, and the anger inside her that was always ready to kill came to the surface. The only thing he needed was sustenance, and she had shown him where the kitchen was. It was not her job to entertain him. If he was bored, at least he was used to it.
She stalked away from his room and went out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Forest spent the next hour outside, stewing internally. She weeded and harvested her veggie garden, but at that location, she could easily look through the window and see Syrus sitting on the bed, so she moved away and began working on getting the fountain running again. She got through a few basic tasks but there was so much to do because she’d been gone for so long. Finally, she felt so guilty that she couldn’t stop herself from going back inside.
She took her harvested veggies to the kitchen then went straight to the spare room and knocked.
“Come in,” Syrus said just loudly enough to be heard through the door.
She opened the door. He had turned his face toward her, and she grimaced as her eyes stung again. “Uh . . . Are you . . . okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said flatly, standing up.
“Are you bored?” Her voice was apologetic.
He smiled at her, and again she was amazed at how innocent he seemed. Innocent and gorgeous.
“I wouldn’t say I was bored. I’m extremely frustrated, though. I have so many questions about Earth and all this stuff you have, but I understand that I’m the intruder and you are used to solitude. I know you don’t want me here. I don’t particularly want to be here. . .” he paused. “I don’t mean your house when I say ‘here.’ I mean the situation. I actually find your house wonderful and fascinating. The fascination is driving me mad though. Just the smells in here alone—I want to know what they are, but I’ve been sitting still and meditating so I wouldn’t give in to temptation and start poking around. I’m trying to respect your space and your things.” He paused again, looking like he was groping for the right words. “I don’t know the rules.”
Forest laughed. “The rules?”
“Yes, the rules of your house.”
Forest continued to chuckle. “Okay, Syrus, here are the rules: Don’t go in my room. Don’t touch my weapons, and don’t eat the cookies in the pantry. Aside from that, you can do as you like, except leave the property.”
“I should have no problem adhering to your rules,” he said formally.
Forest laughed again. “Good. Maybe we can refrain from offending each other anymore for the duration of the mission.”
Syrus smiled but this time his smile was seductively impish. “That is wishful thinking.”
Forest’s mouth fell open. “Yes, well. . .umm. . .I was going to watch a movie. Would you like to join me?”
Syrus’ impish smile switched back to the excited childlike one. “What is a movie?”
“It’s like watching a story rather than listening to one.”
Syrus’ smile slipped. “What a terrible joke, and unworthy of you, Forest.”
It only took her a second to realize what he meant. “No. I didn’t mean it as a joke. I swear. If I chose a movie that was just mostly about relationships, I’m sure you could follow it. The characters just talk back and forth.” She said all this quickly, hoping he would realize she hadn’t meant to be mean. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to. But I didn’t mean it as a joke, really.”
“All right,” he said quietly. “I’ll give it a try if you promise not be put out at me if I need to ask a few questions along the way.”
“Oh. Sure. No problem.”
He followed her to the living room and sat down on the couch. Forest looked through her DVD collection trying to find a movie that was slow. She settled on a Jane Austen adaptation. Surely, he could follow that; it was almost all conversations, and voice-over narration. She could feel his excitement rising again as the movie started.
After a few minutes, Syrus began enjoying the movie and could imagine how great it would be to watch movies once his sight was restored. He listened to the various characters as their relationships developed and they began to have problems. He was able to follow the storyline but as he became engrossed, he forgot yet again to stifle his nose, and Forest was sitting on the same couch.
She smelled so good to him and it had been a long time since he’d had a drink. The idea of going for one of his cold bottles, while her scent was in his lungs, was repugnant. I want it! I want it! I want it! Was all he could think of and better judgment gave way to desire.
Syrus leaned back into the couch and angled his body towards her. Forest was avidly watching the movie and didn’t notice.
“Forest?”
“Yeah?” she answered absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“I’m thirsty,” he said in a half whisper.
“Oh. Me too.” Forest paused the movie and headed to the kitchen. “I’m going to have water. Do you want some or would you like one of your bottles?” she asked loudly from the kitchen.
“Yeah, I want some.” His voice was thick with innuendo she didn’t catch.
Forest filled two tall glasses with Regian water and came back to the living room, a glass in each hand. She set his on the coffee table in front of him. “Your water is here,” she said reaching for his hand to guide it to the glass.
Syrus swiftly took hold of her forearm. Caught off guard, Forest stumbled toward him, almost falling on him. He brought her wrist close to his face and inhaled deeply. “This is what I want,” he whispered. “May I?” his breath fell across her wrist as he moved his mouth closer.
Forest's hand tightened around her glass and she reacted without thinking. The freezing cold water splashed over his head and shoulders Syrus jumped and spluttered in shock. Forest skipped back as Syrus sprang to his feet, snarling at her. The next second he bent over, coughing thickly. He had gasped when she doused him and had aspirated some of the water into his lungs. By the time he was able to stop coughing, Forest was laughing uproariously. Forest’s laugh was loud and throaty and Syrus found it infectious. He too began to laugh.
“Well, that’ll teach you,” Forest chortled.
He snorted, feeling just how wet he really was. “You could have just said no.”
“I could have, but I made my point so much more effectively with the water, don’t you think?”
“Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically. “You made your point clear. My clothes will be wet till tomorrow night.” Regian water didn’t evaporate as quickly as Earth’s. “Where did you put my pack? I need my spare clothes.”
Forest looked at him, speculating. She’d seen the clothes he’d brought in his pack when she’d put his bottles in the
fridge, and she thought this was a good time to bring up her concerns about his appearance.
“You know, Syrus, you have the obvious look of royalty and at the very least, nobility.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s not a compliment.”
Syrus’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“I think we should consider how to disguise you better, especially once we leave here. Would you consider trying human clothes?” she asked.
“Do you have any that will fit me?”
“Sure. Follow me to the basement.”
Forest’s basement was so full of various human things that it resembled a consignment shop. She went to her clothing stores and began rummaging for what she thought Syrus should wear. She thought it was rather funny that he was standing behind her waiting to be her dress up doll.
“Here.” She thrust a pair of jeans and a grey button-up shirt at him.
He pawed at the garments for a moment, seeing what they were with his hands. Then he pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor. Forest took in the sight of his bare chest, her brain going a little foggy. She blinked when she realized that he was about to pull off his trousers too. “Whoa!” she hollered.
“What?” his voice was alarmed.
“Don’t you have any decency?” she demanded.
“Huh?”
“Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean I am! Change your clothes in your room.”
He just laughed at her when she picked his shirt up off the floor and smacked the wet fabric against his chest. He turned around and carried his new clothes up the stairs while Forest followed him. Her eyebrows pulled in confusion as she looked at his back. It looked like a map in scars. Having been through years and years of training, and many more in real combat, Forest could tell what the cause of many of his scars were. He had obviously been through extensive tactical training and sparring. She wanted to ask him about it but felt it was still too personal. Curiosity would soon begin to make the cat ill.
Syrus found his room without assistance. Forest waited while he changed, wondering how the human clothes would look on him. She needed to talk to him about the possibility of cutting his hair. She figured she should bring it up now and give him time to pout and mull it over. He might flat out refuse. The problem was that the length and style of his hair was a mark of his rank.
Syrus came out a few minutes later. Forest sighed sadly like a beggar looking in the window of a shop at something they could never have. He was so beautiful. The jeans she had given him were a little too long, dragging behind his heels, but not so long as to really cause him trouble. He had replaced his belt but had removed the swords. His button up shirt hung open on his chest. He ran his hand down the buttons.
“Would you help me, Forest?” he asked.
“Sure.”
She moved forward and reached to button his shirt for him. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she pushed the first button through the buttonhole and realized just how intimate an action this was. Her eyes lingered on his chest as she buttoned the next one. His chest was scarred as well but not so much as his back. She buttoned the next one, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed. She was holding her breath without realizing it. Why did this shirt have so many buttons? She did the next one and the next, averting her eyes from his face.
Syrus leaned his head down towards her and slowly reached up one hand, taking a gentle hold of her forearm. Forest froze, looking up into his face that was closer to hers than she had thought, and felt her eyes go wide.
“Forest,” his voice was almost a whisper. “May I ask a favor of you?”
“. . . Uhh. . .” her throat had gone dry. “What?”
His fingers tightened gently on her arm and his thumb moved back and forth over her skin, teasing out a shiver in her.
“Would you remove the silver you’re wearing?”
“Why?”
“I have a feeling that you are going to save my life in the next few days. It would pain me greatly not to be able to kiss the hand that saved me.”
Forest’s mouth fell open stupidly. Snap out of it! A little voice yelled inside her head. She pulled her arm out of his grip, buttoned the remaining buttons at super speed, and stepped back from him. “Well, if I do save your life, you can ask again, and if I feel like letting you kiss me at that time, I might remove a few things.”
Syrus smiled impishly at her. He had caught the fact the she had said, kiss me and not kiss my hand, and he was not about to forget it any time soon. But aside from that, his little ruse of ineptitude let him know that she was not immune to him, even though she was scampering away from him now and would probably turn back into the viper any moment. He didn’t mind staying on his toes because whether she being friendly or hurling blunt objects at him, Forest was the very opposite of boring.
“So,” Syrus spread his arms out. “Do I look like a human?”
Forest considered his question. He could pass for a human celebrity, maybe. She could take him to Hollywood, put him on the red carpet at some random event, make sure his picture was taken and the next day the internet would be buzzing with desperate questions of ‘who is this?! We all must know!’
“Close enough,” she said. “Look, I need to talk to you about something.”
“What?” he asked defensively.
“Well, I know you aren’t going to like my suggestion, but we really need to make sure that you are not easily recognizable once we set out.”
“I thought that was what the clothes were for.”
“Yes. But it’s not enough. I want you to consider letting me cut your hair.”
“No!”
Forest sighed. “Look, I understand. I do. But if we are apprehended on our journey, the wolves will either kill you and take me hostage or kill me and take you hostage.”
“Everyone thinks I’m dead. They won’t know I’m the prince.”
“Even if they don’t realize that you’re the prince, your hair marks you as vampire nobility and a master of the Kata. Your capture would be too great a prize for them to overlook. They would try to ransom you, at which point they would learn your true identity. You would be killed in the worst way possible. They would put your dead body on display. The repercussions of your death would be felt through all of Regia. The wolves might succeed in overthrowing your father.”
Syrus shuddered. “And what would happen to you?” he asked.
Forest was surprised by his concern. “If they didn’t kill me as well, I’d be forced into slavery. The wolves I know have a love/hate regard for me. Philippe would probably claim me. So, basically if you die and I live, my life will suck. No offense.”
Syrus was frowning at her. “Why would Philippe claim you?” The idea shot an angry pain into his gut.
“He’s got a major Jones for me,” she said flippantly.
“So he would force you to be his mistress?”
“Something like that. But that’s best case scenario. If we are caught, they must think you are nobody special. We need to think of a good cover story, just in case.”
Syrus looked like he was thinking hard. “But when we get back and everyone sees my hair short… that would be humiliating…People would laugh at me. How could I lead the army? They wouldn’t respect me.”
“Look,” she said aggressively, “I don’t care about any of that. My job is to keep you alive, not fashionable.”
Syrus looked highly offended. “This isn’t about fashion. You obviously have no idea what this would mean for me. It would be a symbol of shame. You have no concept of how vampire nobility treat those they feel are beneath them. If you knew, you never would have asked such a thing of me.”
Forest’s insides writhed with rage. “You insensitive, arrogant, spoiled, selfish oaf of a sucker! You’re so right! I have no idea what shame is! Well, you can keep your hair and be the most beautiful and respected corpse there ever was. Go right ahead, you thoughtless baboon, and endanger both o
f our lives so you won’t have to lose face! You stupid, stupid, entitled, narcissist!”
Forest turned her back on him, marched to her room, and slammed the door. The next second she opened it again to shout one more insult at him.
“You…you…” words seemed to fail her as she struggled to use the worst one she could think of, “you…Male!”
She slammed her door again and locked it. Syrus just stood there, his mouth hanging open. It was the first time in his recollection that someone had insulted him to his face. And she had done a thorough job of it.
“What the heck is a baboon?” he muttered as he stalked back to his room.
Forest lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. It had felt damn good to say all those things to Syrus. She was sure no one had ever dared speak to him like that before. That knowledge gave her a warm fuzzy feeling inside. She considered it her special privilege. She thought about the way his face had looked when she had called him all those names, and the next second, she was laughing so loudly, she could have been heard from outside.
Syrus listened to her laughter. The sounds of her mirth made him feel even worse, if that was possible. He wasn’t angry, which confused him. Syrus felt like she had run over him and now she was laughing at him. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, trying to sort through his feelings. The house fell silent.
Forest watched the sunset through her bedroom window. The deep hues shimmered in the retreating iridescent sunlight. The sky seemed to move in a slow dance of color that didn’t exist on Earth. The only thing Earth had that was close to a Regain sunset was the aurora borealis.
How was she going to get them through the Wood alive? She had to make him understand the weight of the danger ahead. Could he really be so vain that he would rather die than cut his hair? Could he really be so heartless to not care if she lived or died? She shook herself. Of course he wouldn’t care if she died. Why would he? Well, if one of them was going to die on this trip, it would be him. If he did, she would be wanted by the vampires, and they would hunt her down. But she could escape to Earth. She could live out her life there happily enough.