by Fleur Smith
“Yeah. It’s been . . . enlightening.”
“They certainly have a unique approach,” Clay said, but his tone made it clear it wasn’t a conversation topic he wanted to continue. Not that I blamed him. Outside of imparting what I needed to know to keep myself safe, we tended to avoid all discussions of the Rain and Clay’s past because it was a topic he found difficult to discuss.
“Talking about unique, what happened with the shadow?” Ethan asked. “I never got to tell you they were susceptible to all human weapons, but I figured you’d figure that out pretty quick, bro.”
“Yeah. We figured that out,” Clay said.
“Or at least, we hope we did,” I added. Even though I was sure the danger had passed, there was a small part of me waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the shadow to return and shatter the peace we’d found.
We talked with Ethan until the prepaid minutes ran out. Once we’d ended the call, I asked Clay why Ethan’s comment about not being with his family had concerned him.
“It’s just Eth, well, he’s so family driven. Everything he does, he does because ‘family is key,’” Clay said. “Even when he has his own things going on, he doesn’t usually go more than a month without returning to Dad’s side. If he’s been away for two months already, Dad’s probably getting suspicious.”
“Do you think we need to be worried?”
His expression turned thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head and giving me a reassuring smile. “Nah, I’m sure he’s got it covered.”
When he looked away, his smile fell a little too quick. Something was obviously still bothering him, but it was clear he wasn’t ready to talk about it.
“You miss them, don’t you?” I asked.
He shrugged, but it was clear my words had hit their target.
“I’m sor—”
He cut off my apology with a finger against my mouth. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault they’re too stubborn to see how wonderful you are.”
He lifted his finger and touched his lips to mine.
Ready to return to what had become our normal life, we had lunch at a cafe in a little town in Norway before heading back to the secluded little corner of the world we called home.
THE MONTHS passed swiftly with our newfound freedom, and the knowledge that although they were interested in talking to him, the Rain weren’t sending a wave of operatives out searching for Clay. Better yet, that they believed I was dead. Before we knew it, almost six months had come and gone since settling in our little home.
The long, but never overly warm, summer days had shortened, until the sunlight became increasingly rare and we had to use those precious hours to hunt and train before the long darkness settled in again. We’d barely noticed the passage of one month into the next. We hadn’t tracked days or weeks.
When the need called for it, we headed into Kiruna for supplies, and to test out our halting Swedish. While there one day, we noticed Christmas decorations lining the streets, filling the shops until they almost burst, and discovered we’d missed Thanksgiving along the way. That night, we had our own mini celebration, and gave thanks that we’d found each other once again. That despite everything we’d faced to lead us to that point, we were together.
Because we’d escaped the US under the pretense of my death, we finally had a real chance of a long and happy life away from the dangers of our past. Here, in our own little paradise, no one was hunting me for the sunbird inside, and Clay’s family tradition no longer guided his hand. He could live without the expectation of being the hunter he’d had to be for so long.
After years of failed reunions and misunderstandings, we could finally have a moment of happiness wrapped tightly in one another’s embrace.
Neither of us knew how many days remained until Christmas—the long nights made the days run together when there was no need to track them individually—but we decided we had to do something. When the day we selected for the holiday arrived, we didn’t exchange store bought gifts, sing mindless carols, or eat an abundance of overly rich food. Instead, we simply took a day off from our relentless schedule of training and home repairs, to spend hours in bed together. It was the best Christmas present I could hope for, and the only one I wanted.
A LOUD crack filled the night, ripping me from sleep.
My heart pounded as I tugged myself from the comfort of Clay’s arms, yanking on a T-shirt as I climbed from bed. I ducked down and picked up the bag we had packed and crept to my post along the front wall.
It was a drill Clay and I had run multiple times at his insistence, and maybe it was about to pay off. He’d wanted to be prepared in case his family or the Rain launched an attack.
The chilled night air was heavy in my lungs as I peered out into the night. We were in the wilderness, miles away from anyone—miles from anywhere. There shouldn’t have been such unnatural sounds in the air at this time of night.
Unless we were under attack.
Have they found us?
I glanced behind me and saw Clay had disappeared into the alcove that hid the back door.
Slipping the backpack onto my shoulders, I crept up to the front door, ready to assess the danger through the peep holes Clay had set up. As I neared it, another explosion boomed, echoing through the night. At the sound, my instincts kicked in and ignoring protocol, I yanked open the front door and raced from the house.
“What the hell?” I heard Clay’s voice at the back door.
I peered out into the darkness, watching for any sign of movement in the vast wilderness around us. The pale moonlight reflected softly off the snow that coated everything in a dusty layer of white, giving the world a heavenly aura. Mammoth evergreens stretched into the air like giants encircling the grounds to protect our little hideaway.
Over the months, we’d taken the run-down shack we’d found, and made it into a perfect little love nest. While initially we’d wanted a place to live completely alone and off-grid, it had grown into so much more than that. It was our safe haven, nestled far away from the people that wanted me dead and Clay back in the fold. A place where my unusual hair and lilac irises wouldn’t garner unwanted attention or start rumors that might end in danger.
Or so we’d thought.
A third, fourth, and fifth bang all broke the silence in rapid succession. Scanning the forest’s edge for danger, I spotted something off in the distance, through the foliage of the trees. Bursts of colored light danced in the sky for a few lingering seconds before descending slowly back toward the earth. Understanding what the sounds and bright lights meant, a burst of laughter escaped me.
“Clay!” I shouted.
Clay rushed back through the house to find me. The look of concern on his face, the worry etched in the lines around his eyes, was enough to send my heart racing. “You’re supposed to wait inside,” he admonished.
His tone should have sent my mood plummeting. Only I didn’t let it. The tension I’d woken with had dissipated instantly when I discovered the “danger” was actually fireworks.
“Happy New Year!” I shouted with a smile as I threw myself into his arms. It was only the third holiday we’d been able to celebrate together, and the first two we hadn’t even celebrated on the right days.
As we watched the fireworks leap through the trees before raining back to earth, Clay registered the lack of danger. He didn’t relax though, not even when I dragged him into my arms so I could kiss him again.
“Well, I think we need to run a few more drills to prepare us properly for a nighttime raid,” he murmured as we broke apart from the heated moment.
I rolled my eyes. I was long used to his grumpy attitude about our relentless training. After our initial confrontation about it, where I warned him not to push too hard or he could push me away, I found that the easiest way to deal with it was to ignore it until he saw for himself that he was asking too much. Occasionally though, he needed to be told outright. “We’re alone. Can’t we just enjoy that for a moment
?”
He nodded. “We are alone.”
His eyes scanned the sky as more fireworks shot into the sky in the distance. Explosions echoed through the night once more as the colors danced their way back down to the ground. “For now.”
“Clay,” I admonished. “Please?”
A ghost of a smile lifted his lips. “I’m sorry, I can’t help but worry. I—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips. “What did Ethan say?”
“That there was no one actively searching for me.”
“Exactly,” I said, my point made.
“It’s been four months since then though,” Clay said, drawing me back to the present. “Who knows what might have changed.”
A chill raced through me at his words. They were a reminder that we couldn’t get too complacent. Letting our guard down was what destroyed the life we’d shared in Detroit. It was what had gotten my father killed years earlier. I pressed my forehead to his chest.
“First thing tomorrow, we start training again,” I said. “Your way. The hard way. Nothing will come between us.”
Touching his finger to my chin, he guided my face upward to meet his eyes. In the night, his dark irises were impossibly black. Like death. Despite the foreboding color, the fear in my body dissipated as our gazes locked. I took a deep breath and gave him a smile.
“I don’t mean to worry you,” he said. “I just want to keep you safe.”
“I want to keep us both safe,” I replied as I pressed my lips to his. Warm and welcoming, it was like coming home.
Without breaking our kiss, he lifted me onto the recently repaired railing that ran along the front porch. I wrapped my legs around his waist and deepened the kiss.
He held me with one arm locked around my waist, while the other explored my body. I gasped as his fingertips brushed across my nipples. Breaking free of him, I leaned down and tugged my T-shirt up over my head. Even though there was snow all around us, I barely noticed the cold. With Clay’s tender touch, my body warmed to surround us both with enough heat that clothing was optional.
Clay’s lips caressed my throat, resting against my skin as he murmured words of dedication and love. Free from danger, I was desperate for him. Pushing down his sweatpants, I held his length in my hand and guided him into me.
His grip on my hips grew rough, pulling me against him harder and faster. Wrapped in his hold, I couldn’t help remembering something I’d heard years earlier. That the way you spent the first day of the new year was what you could expect for the rest of the year. I couldn’t think of a single way I’d rather spend the rest of my year—or the rest of my life for that matter.
“Happy New Year, Clay,” I whispered against his skin when I moved to kiss his throat.
His answering reply was little more than a needful groan, but it was enough.
It was perfect.
CHAPTER THREE
STANDING AT THE door of our tiny cottage, I stretched to ease away some of the near constant ache in my muscles—a side effect of my combat training and the basic drills Clay had us both running. I leaned against the railing of the tiny porch around our little shack and took a moment to absorb the beautiful scenery that surrounded us.
The view was always the same, regardless of which direction I shifted my gaze, pristine and sparse, but utterly breathtaking and serene. Evergreens that stretched endlessly to the sky, reaching so high that it was easy to believe they’d been on the Earth before dinosaurs had ever roamed the land. As far as my gaze could reach, a blanket of white covered everything, coating the ground and tops of the trees with thick, cold snow. Only the occasional limestone formation, clawing through the frost as though desperate to be noticed, intruded upon the white and green landscape.
While I admired the absolute stillness, Clay emerged behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“You know the best thing about this place?” he asked, as he squeezed me lightly.
“What’s that?” I rested my head against his chest as a hundred great things about our tiny shack came to mind—top of my list was that we were alone and hadn’t encountered any threats since we moved in. Even our increased vigilance after the scare from the fireworks on New Year’s Eve a little more than a month earlier had already diminished.
“That you don’t have to hide here,” he said before running his fingers through my hair, brushing it off my face. The dull, winter sun, left the shades slightly muted, but in the light, it still mimicked strands of spun gold, ruby, and copper resting side by side. He kissed the side of my head. “I’ve always loved your hair. It’s like jewels.”
I flinched away from his words. My hair was a result of the part of me that had caused so much grief in my life. “You know you’ve got me, right? You don’t need to suck-up anymore.”
“It’s not called sucking up. It’s a compliment. And most people accept them graciously.”
“I thought you’d know by now that I’m not most people,” I teased. “But I’ll try. So, thank you.”
“How much longer do you think we should stay here anyway?” he asked, picking up the conversation we’d had on and off over the last few weeks. It never progressed too far because neither of us wanted to become complacent by staying in one place too long and risk being tracked down, but if we moved on, there was no guarantee that we’d stay off the radar.
I considered once more how fortunate I’d been to find him when I’d thought all hope was lost. If I hadn’t taken the risk in agreeing to meet with him after he’d left a trail of breadcrumbs scattered across the States, I had no idea where I’d be now. Certainly, I wouldn't be in a picturesque corner of the world experiencing the love and happiness I’d never dreamed possible.
Memories thick with blood from the trail of death that had followed me through my life—danger that hadn’t yet touched us in Sweden—crossed my mind. Regret flooded through me, all of those people who had died for me or because of me.
“We’ve been safe here awhile now,” I said.
There have been no deaths for eight months, my mind added. I could never say that out loud because it was an admission of guilt. Even though they hadn’t been by my hand, each death was because of me—of what I was. Part of me knew it was probably better to move on before the Rain caught up with us, but I was reluctant. Maybe we can hide here until we’re old and gray.
“So how does forever sound to you?” I asked. The question was wistful and filled with optimism, two emotions I was only now learning to feel without the accompanying feelings of doubt and mistrust.
Moving the material of my coat aside, he kissed his way along my shoulder before nestling his nose into my hair. He inhaled deeply and moaned softly against the skin at the nape of my neck. The way he touched me made the coat almost unnecessary, and I considered shedding it.
“Not long enough,” he whispered to answer my question.
After nuzzling my neck for a moment more, Clay rested his chin on my shoulder from behind me and gazed out over the view as well. “What’s the plan for today?” he asked.
Leaning back into his embrace, I rested my head against his shoulder.
“We could go hunting,” I suggested.
“We could stay in,” he countered.
Turning in his hold, I wrapped my arms around his neck and touched his lips with a soft kiss. “We need to go hunting so that I can practice with the bow.”
Since the night the fireworks had scared us into remembering the danger that did still lurk around, he was determined to impart all of his self-defense knowledge to me. Each time I thought I’d learned everything I could possibly need to know, he found something else to show me. He wanted me to have all the knowledge he had about methods of defending myself in a range of different situations. Unlike when Dad tried to train me years earlier, I paid close attention to Clay’s lessons. I wouldn’t make the mistake of waiting for “one day” ever again.
It was surprisingly easy to take on all of Clay’s guidance, despite the fact t
hat it seemed contradictory to the instructions Dad had always drilled into me—to be mindful of suspicious behavior and, if in doubt, run. I’d taken to the training so well that I was confident I had a sustainable knowledge to rely on, something more than my unique ability to start fires to defend myself.
The fact that the day when the sunbird in me would sleep was drawing ever closer made me train that much harder. When that happened, I would no longer be able to rely on the heat she provided for warmth or self-defense. Clay constantly reminded me that the biggest threat to me, the Rain, wouldn’t stop hunting me just because the sunbird was sleeping. If anything, they’d try to attack harder because I would be an easier target.
In addition to our hand-to-hand combat training, Clay had slowly been demonstrating different weapons and their uses, going over even the most ancient of weaponry. He’d shown me how to fashion rudimentary pieces—spears, knives, and bola—out of debris readily available in nature. After guiding me through the process of constructing and using the items, he’d turned them on me in order to teach me how to defend myself against them in the event of an attack.
The one weapon type he hadn’t trained me in yet was firearms. Aside from the risk of the noise of gunfire drawing attention to our little house—we didn’t want a repeat of the police visit in Germany—we didn’t want to risk making any purchases that might put us back on the grid. My frenzied attack on the shadow had ripped through most of Clay’s ammunition, and we didn’t want to risk needing to restock. We couldn’t be certain who knew we were in Europe, but if anyone had learned of our whereabouts, Clay believed they would watch for certain transactions. Purchasing weapons and ammunition was definitely at the top of that list. Clay explained that even trying to get something through less than legal means could possibly put us on the Rain’s radar because the Rain had never been concerned with the legality of their purchases; as such, they had significant connections with both legal and illegal arms dealers.
Even the dilapidated, secondhand 4WD Clay had bought was a risk. Which was why we’d found the cheapest thing we could and had purchased it with cash. For everything else, we traveled into town when we needed to. Even then, we restricted our shopping trips to once every few weeks and only to buy clothes or food.