He really did care about her, whether he said it or not.
And though the sincerity was a rarity on his lips, she knew that.
It worked for them.
Reese
Ollo’s pickup truck reminded Reese a lot of Ollo himself. Both were rugged, tough, and could probably take on anything being thrown at them. Both looked good, despite their rough-around-the-edges appearance. Both were sturdy and reliable. And both seemed to be at their best outside of the city and in the woods.
Ollo pulled into slot 22 as Reese scanned her new and quite unfamiliar surroundings. She couldn’t make out much, but from what she could see in the truck’s headlights, she noticed that no one else occupied the camping grounds in the adjacent slots. Because no one in their right mind would go camping in the middle of winter, she thought to herself. There was dirt—lots of it—along with scattered bushes and lots of trees. Tall ones with thick trunks, standing fifty feet tall, at least. But it was too dark for Reese to make out any brittle leaves that might still remain on the dry branches. However, once she hopped out of the truck and heard the crunch of leaves underneath her booted feet, she realized that the tops of the trees were naked.
“Build a fire, would you?” Ollo said as he walked around the front of the truck. “I’m going to get to work on our tent.”
“Tent?” She bypassed the fact that he basically demanded her to make an element come to life with her bare—soon-to-be gloved—hands. This seemed to be much more important, at least right now. “As in, singular? As in, one? As in, we’re sharing one tent?”
“I’m glad to see your mind is as sharp as ever.” She didn’t have to be wide awake to detect the sarcasm dripping from his deep tone. His blue-brown eyes twinkled as he looked at her, and Reese realized he was entirely too close. It didn’t matter how cold she was; she needed her personal space or else she wouldn’t be able to think clearly around Ollo. “I’m sorry, but I can’t build you your own personal suite, darl. And since we are supposed to be lovers, I figure why not?”
Of course, he would never tell her one tent meant he didn’t have to worry about her sleeping by herself. His body was already in tune with hers, so if she moved, if she got up, if she whimpered, if she cried out, he would know. If he could keep his eyes on her always, he would, but Ollo knew that wasn’t possible. Reese was too independent to allow him to follow her like some puppy dog, but he would take all necessary precautions to ensure that she was safe. He couldn’t lose her again. He couldn’t lose her at all. And if that meant facing her wrath about using one tent, then so be it.
Reese rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said. She wrapped her arms around her frame. Despite the fact that she had two layers underneath an oversized jacket, the bitter night air still somehow nipped at her concealed skin. She was suddenly tired and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, even if Ollo would be right next to her. Actually, not that she would admit it, but the thought of him close to her made her feel reassured that nothing would happen to her. “How do you expect me to start a fire? I don’t have a lighter on me. You didn’t tell me I needed to have one.”
Ollo pressed his lips together and tilted his head to the side. Slowly, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smirk; the same smirk Reese constantly wanted to slap off his face. It caused his dimple to pop, and despite the darkness, she could still make them out, even underneath his scruff. He placed his hands on his hips and strands of his dark blond hair fell into his face.
“Are you telling me you don’t know how to build a fire, darl?” he asked. She could tell he wanted to laugh at her and appreciated the fact that he was holding back.
“Why would I know how to build a fire?” she snapped. She winced at the abrasive tone, but she didn’t take it back. It had been a long night, and all she wanted was to sleep, with him next to her.
“Right,” he said, responding to her tone. “Because you’re a princess who doesn’t have to do anything herself.”
“Because I’m not Pythia.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she had to look away. She had been holding them back ever since she found out about her previous life, about the essence that made up some of her soul. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced her gray eyes to Ollo’s. “I don’t know how to hit a target with my bow and arrow. I don’t know how to control or even interpret the things I see that are supposed to be the future. And I definitely don’t know how to make a fire.”
She was expecting Ollo to say something, to interrupt with one of his witty and slightly insulting comments, but he stayed quiet. He just looked at her with those eyes—more blue now than brown—and waited, somehow knowing she wanted to say more.
“You don’t think I know who I am?” she continued. “I do. I’m a princess. I’m a brat. I’m spoiled. I’ve heard it all from everyone. I know how to spiral a corner kick; I know multiple interpretations of Shakespeare’s sonnets; I can tell any girl what type of makeup to wear based on her complexion, what type of clothes to wear for her body, and what type of haircut to get for her face. Maybe they’re not things that I need to know to survive or anything, but those are the things that I know. These things make up who I am. And I’m not Pythia. I’m not going to be the Oracle you fell in love with, the Oracle who managed to stop a war, the Oracle who was graceful and humble and beautiful and knew how to save everyone. I’m not. So please stop reminding me. I’m never going to match up to her, okay? I’m just me. I’m just Reese.”
Tears fell down her face, and she had no idea how or when they started to fall. A callused thumb wiped them away, causing her to blink and look back up at the man—the god.
“No.” A beat. “You are not.” She could barely see him, but noticed his long fingers slide through the belt loops of his pressed slacks. His eyes softened a little, and he tilted his head down so he could look at her levelly. She always hated when he did that; on some level, she knew he did it to remind her just how tall he was in comparison to her, and on another, it meant his lips were too close to hers.
Wait a minute.
She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth, prepared to give him an earful. Did he just agree with the fact that she would never match up to some person, some Oracle, she had never met? Who was better than Reese in every way possible? Wasn’t he supposed to guide her, to support and reassure her that she was perfect for her role in the war, that nobody else could do it, not even Pythia? Who did he think he was—besides the Greek god, Apollo?
No, Reese, a voice murmured in her head. Ollo is not responsible for your confidence. You are. He can guide you, but you must choose what to dom and how to feel about that guidance.
The voice sounded like her mother and she stilled. She suddenly missed her mother more than she realized, which only caused more tears to fall down her face.
Immediately, his arm shot out and his extended finger somehow found her lips.. She wondered what they might feel like on her bare skin and instantly banished the thought. Thank God it was too dark to see her flush. She hoped her lips weren’t chapped either.
“Reese,” he said, using her name yet again, causing the goose bumps on her body to stand even straighter. His voice was low, and there was a slight smirk, a slight sparkle in his deep eyes. “You are more than you give yourself credit for. You may not be Pythia, but she will never be you, either. You are so much more than she was.”
He still hadn’t removed his finger from her lips, but she was too focused on his words and the way his mouth moved when he said them. She pursed her brows together, liftingher eyes up until they rested in his. She could believe anything he said if he said it while looking in her eyes.
“You are, darl. How could you not think so?”
“Because the few times you actually talk about her, the way your eyes get and what you say….” She felt her shoulders slump forward. “I feel like I’ll never live up to her, Ollo. Honestly. You’re always fighting with me. You point out what I do wrong. This woman is the re
ason a war ended, and I’m worried about making the varsity soccer team.”
“That’s just it.” His smirk slid into a smile. “You really don’t understand, Darl. Pythia was an admirable, amazing woman. She was my Oracle, and that was it. She had one role in her life, and she put everything into it and succeeded. She knew she was destined to be an Oracle from the day she was born, and she trained day and night for her entire life, before the war even began. You were thrust into this role and have such a miniscule amount of time in comparison that the fact that you are with me right now in the forest at one o’clock in the morning means everything. Especially when I know how spoiled you are. Pythia was an Oracle, but that was all she was. You, on the other hand, are a daughter. You are a sister, a friend, a student. You’re a soccer player and a teenager. And you happen to be my Oracle. All of this while you’re trying to find your place in the world; all of this while you’re trying to figure out who you are.” His finger dropped from her lips so it could curl under her chin and tilt it upwards, forcing her eyes to lock back onto his once more. “Do not doubt yourself, Reese Lespoir. You are more than what you believe yourself to be.”
Reese allowed herself a small smile, letting Ollo’s surprisingly comforting words sink in. He was right. Well, she couldn’t know about Pythia and what she went through in her lifetime, but Reese was going through a lot. More than an average teenage girl normally went through. Add that to the fact that she felt insurmountable pressure to keep her family alive—somehow defying fate—and it was no wonder she worried about getting gray hairs in her twenties.
“Now, come on,” he said, dropping his hand back down to his side. “Let’s start a fire, warm up, and turn in. We have much to do in a short amount of time.”
It took Reese fifteen attempts before a small flicker of a flame appeared and began to spread in the amount of space Ollo created specifically for the purpose of the fire. She planned to check her nails and her palms when there was more light in case she needed a manicure from the activity. Not that she could do anything about it while she was camping.
Warming up was another thing completely. Ollo rolled old logs a good distance away from the smoke but close enough to feel the heat from the fire. He also wrapped her up in her favorite blanket of his—a soft, navy blue one that smelled just like him—and she felt his hands linger on her shoulders longer than what was necessary. Her eyelids met of their own accord, and instead of talking about what the plan was for tomorrow, or any news of the war, they remained silent. The only sound was the crackling fire.
When it was time to turn in, Ollo made sure to lie down a respectable distance away. She missed his arms, the way his chest moved up and down, but was lulled by the sound of his even breathing, and before she knew it, she was asleep.
Home. Somehow she was back home.
Everything looked normal, from the white picket fence to the brown wooden furniture that was placed in the second-story balcony. The chimney had soft, gray smoke clouds emerging from the square-shaped hole; her mom probably had a fire going. She got cold if the temperature was below seventy-four degrees, which was where Reese got her disdain for the cold. “Any excuse for a fire,” her mother would always say.
Except the longer that Reese stared at her home, the more she realized something was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.
There was too much smoke.
She could smell it then: the ash, the strong scent of charred something. Whatever it was, it was dead now, if it had ever been alive in the first place. She lifted up her foot, prepared to go in, to explore, to ensure nobody was in there, that in her mother’s haste to get to work, she had completely forgotten about the fire she put on this cold Onyx morning. It had been an adjustment coming here for her, moving from bright and sunny southern California to season-rich Onyx, but she had done it for her husband and for Reese, and, to a degree, Brodie. That was just the type of person her mother was. Yes, she got Botox and dressed in designer brands and had moments when she could be particularly picky, but above anything else, her family came first. She was its backbone and kept the family going.
Forgetting about a fire was not something her mother would normally do, but Reese could understand if she occasionally experienced uncharacteristic forgetfulness, only because she knew her mother was still adjusting to Onyx and her new job working for Lucas Burr, District Attorney. Her reputation as the Black Widow in the courtroom back in Beverly Hills followed her here to Onyx, and it wasn’t long before Burr himself scooped her up and made her a member of his team—just after Jack Phillip’s party, in fact, where Reese got to know Andie a bit better. It was one of Reese’s first days conscious again.
Her mother had been working on something secret, something she couldn’t share with anybody, not even Reese’s father. Reese could tell it wasn’t what her mother had in mind when working for Lucas Burr, and it didn’t seem to be something she actually agreed with, judging by the whispered phone calls she would receive well past nine o’clock at night. But it was something she had been working on nonetheless, and perhaps the stress of it all had finally gotten to her, and her mind started to wander.
Before she could walk up to the house, the windows exploded and three distinct screams could be heard. At that moment, her body seized up just before she scrambled to pull herself together and all but ran into the fire herself to save them, to save her family. If she was supposed to be some badass Oracle who could shoot arrows and see the future, then certainly she could save her family’s lives. Why be blessed—if one saw it as a blessing—with these abilities and not be able to save the people she cared about most in the world?
But then she saw it. It was not her mother or her father, but her brother’s familiar brown mop of curls in the window. It was his pale face, the blue eyes he got from Mom, and she from Grandpa, his freckles. He was alive! He was fine! And yet, instead of trying to leave the burning inferno that was their house, he just stared out the window, looking at her with those eyes—those eyes that had glared at her so coldly when he had found out she would be taking this trip with Ollo. That mouth that promised never to forgive her for going, that had renounced her as a sister, all because he thought that Ollo was her boyfriend and he didn’t approve on the grounds that he thought she could do better.
“Let us go.”
Somehow, she could hear his low voice as if he were standing right next to her. She knew he had just mouthed the words to her, and yet she could hear them as clearly as a car alarm.
“Let us go.”
He said it again.
Reese opened her mouth to respond, prepared to promise him that she would help him if only he would come out, to call 911 this instant, to tell him that she was sorry, that she loved him, that she missed him. She wanted to tell him everything, then, about what she really was. To prove that Ollo was good enough for her, considering he was a god and all. To have him forgive her.
But then he disappeared as though he had never been there.
He was gone.
They were all gone.
And Reese could do nothing to stop it.
Reese sat bolt upright in the tent, inhaling sharply through her mouth, trying to gasp for air. The smoke consumed her the minute she saw her brother vanish, and she found she desperately needed to breathe in the cold air. She desperately needed to assure herself that it was just a dream. Not a vision, just a dream.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to make sure everyone was all right, and her vision of her family dying in a fire had not yet come to pass, not when she wasn’t sure how to prevent it from happening. It didn’t matter that Ollo said all of her visions were set in stone—that was why she was so valuable—she was adamant about keeping her family from burning to a crisp. But she couldn’t when she wasn’t even there to try and protect them.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar, husky voice drawled from just in front of Reese. Her honey-colored eyes narrowed on Ollo’s arm around Reese’s waist and the corners of her lips curled into a s
mirk. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Andie
The first thing she saw when she opened her eyelids was green. Jade green with a ring of gold around the black pupil. Beautiful. Perfect.
His lips curved into a gentle smile and his fingers—long extensions she hadn’t noticed on her silk white pillow—stretched out so they could brush strawberry blonde locks out of her face. She swallowed, closing her eyes and hoping she didn’t have eye boogers crusting her lids. His fingertips on her skin made her blood rush to greet his touch, and she was certain he was aware of the effect he had on her skin, on her being, thanks to it being so susceptible to color.
She felt safe. This moment was perfect. Everything was right in the world in Jack’s bedroom with his eyes focused on her face and his skin upon her skin. She wasn’t nervous or hesitant. She wasn’t worried about how she looked or what he saw. All that mattered was the fact that he was here with her; that they were together.
She wanted it to last. She refused to say goodbye now. Of that, she was certain.
“Good morning,” he said in his usual, low voice. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sound of it. God, how she’d missed it.
“Morning,” she managed to croak out. And then she started laughing because it was just ridiculous. This whole separation had been ridiculous, and she knew it was all her fault. What time they had wasted when they could have been together!They could have spent Christmas and New Year’s together, instead of alone. Instead of feeling the ache of longing clench at her heart with every breath.
She had to make it right.
Catalyst: Book 2 in The Dark Paradise Chronicles Page 10