Avow

by Chelsea Fine

  Squeezing her eyes, she and Tristan pushed against the rock together.

  Nothing.

  Tristan would not die. He would not die.

  They pushed again. Her stomach muscles burned. Her legs burned. And her lungs were on fire.

  The rock budged. It was just an inch or so, but it was enough for Tristan to shove out from under it. With their wrists still connected, they swam for the surface of the water.

  Gasping for breath, they paddled to the other side of the tunnel where the cave was still intact. The current picked up behind them, racing toward the waterfall, and Scarlet and Tristan reached for the ledge, clawing their way onto the Bluestone floor.

  They pulled themselves up and watched the avalanche behind them drown in the depths of the rushing river.

  “I think this cave is trying to kill us.” Scarlet tried to catch her breath.

  Tristan nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  ****************

  Gabriel stared over the edge of the cave island they were stranded on and frowned at the infinite blackness below. At least twenty feet of cave floor was missing, so jumping to the other side wasn’t an option. And the tunnel they’d originally come through had caved in, effectively sealing them into the glowing blue cave.

  Yeah.

  This was a problem.

  “Hmm,” Nate rubbed at his chin as he looked across the black canyon before them. “You know what this looks like?”

  “A shortcut to Hell?” Gabriel offered, gently pulling back on Heather’s arm as she drifted toward the ledge.

  “A chasm,” Nate said. “This looks like a deep chasm.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes.

  Nate tapped his chin. “Now, what could we use to cross this chasm? Gabriel, do you have anything that could help us in your backpack? No? Perhaps I have something that could be of service.” He shrugged out of his backpack and riffled through it until he held up his whip in glee.

  “Well, look at that!” Nate grinned. “A whip. How incredibly helpful and convenient. I’m so glad you brought a whip with you, Nate. Why, thank you, Gabriel. I always try to be prepared.”

  “You really think that little whip is going to get all three of us across this gap?”

  “Across this chasm? Why, yes. Yes, I do. All we have to do is find something to latch it on to…” Nate looked up at the cave ceiling and frowned. “Okay, this might be more complicated than I thought.”

  “I don’t think I want to trust our lives to a fake whip you bought at Comic Con.” Gabriel clasped his hand around Heather’s wrist as she drifted near the edge again.

  Good God. The girl was going to give him a heart attack.

  “Why does everyone assume I buy all my things at Comic Con? This is a real whip.”

  Gabriel said, “Where did you buy it?”

  Nate paused. “Comic Con.” He hurriedly added, “But Comic Con sells real whips. Oh! There we go.” He smiled as he caught sight of a potential anchor.

  Unwinding the whip, he flicked it toward the anchor.

  It slapped his wrist.

  “Aw, man.” Nate tried again and the whip snapped against his leg.

  Gabriel stared at him. “Does Comic Con provide whip lessons? Because that would be money well spent.”

  Nate tried again.

  Heather plopped on the ground and laid on her side, her cheek pressed against the hard earth as she drew small circles on the ground with her finger.

  “Give it up, dude.” Gabriel walked to the ledge and looked over again. Maybe there was a way they could climb down and across?

  Heather sat up and bit her thumbnail.

  Nate snapped the whip at the ceiling again and this time it wound itself around the anchor and held steady.

  “Ha!” he cheered. He looked at Gabriel. “That’s thrice now that you’ve mocked a Comic Con purchase of mine that ended up saving our lives.”

  “What?”

  Nate listed things off on his fingers. “My Zelda sword that saved your ass against the Ashman in the cabin. My Buffy the Vampire Slayer video game that taught me how to slay zombies in the graveyard the other night. And the Indiana Jones whip that will most assuredly get us across this chasm to safety.” He looked across the canyon to the dark blue tunnel ahead. “Or death. I’m not really sure what’s waiting for us over there. But, either way, this whip will get us there.”

  Gabriel nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Your toys are awesome.”

  “So what should we do? Take turns?” Nate yanked on the whip to make sure it was secure.

  “Sure.” Gabriel nodded. “You go first.”

  “What? Why me?”

  “Because Comic Con sells real whips…right?”

  “Of course.” Nate shook out his arms and legs—weird—then leaned back with the whip with a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

  He kicked off the ledge and swung himself across the abyss, sailing through the air.

  And then back.

  “You have to jump off.” Gabriel watched his friend swing back and forth in terror.

  “I know, dude.” He swung back. “It’s just so high and scary.”

  “Jump. Off.”

  Nate jumped off and fell ungracefully to the ground. “Whoo-hoo! I totally didn’t die just now. Score.”

  Gabriel caught the whip as it swung back and looked at Heather, who was drawing circles on the ground again.

  “Your turn, Heather.”

  “This is the worst hike ever,” she said, now rocking back and forth on the ground. “Scary witches and thorny vines and nobody sees the dragonflies and Nate’s saying words like thrice—”

  “Hey, what’s wrong with the word thrice?” Nate said.

  Gabriel held out the whip. “Come on.”

  “I don’t think I can.” She scratched her neck. “I think I just want to sit here.”

  “Yeah, that’s not a good idea. So why don’t you stand up and we can swing to the other side of this very unstable tunnel and you can sit there. Okay?”

  “I can’t.” Her eyes darted around the cave. “I’m kind of freaking out.”

  “About the whip?”

  “I don’t know!” She bit her nails. “I’m just freaking out.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I trust you too,” he said. “And I know you can do this. You’re Tomb Raider, remember? You’re tough.”

  “I’m not tough.” She shook her head and kept chewing on her nails.

  “Yes you are. You stab Ashmen with scissors and you take blows to the face and you kick ass in your imaginary pink boots. You’re tough and you can do this.”

  Gabriel was desperate to change the expression on her face. She looked so…lost.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ll swing over together and then you can freak out all you want when we’re not standing on an island of doom, sound good?”

  She stopped biting her nails and stood up, nodding as she walked to the whip. “I can do this.”

  “Damn straight, you can.”

  They both grabbed the whip and held on as Gabriel kicked off the ground and swung them across the chasm.

  There was a cracking sound above and Gabriel looked up to see the stalactite anchor starting to break. They were almost to the other side when pieces of the anchor began to crumble and fall into the abyss.

  “Jump!” Gabriel told Heather as the anchor broke off from the ceiling. Their momentum stopped, threatening to send them flying into infinite darkness, as Gabriel hurled his body—which was now wrapped around Heather—to the other side of the gap, landing on the hard ground with Heather beside him. The whip fell straight down into the black hole.

  Gabriel stood and helped Heather stand as well. The three of them looked back at the half-destroyed cave and the chasm of death they’d barely escaped—using a whip, no less.

  Gabriel shook his head.

  His life was so weird.

  ***********
****

  Scarlet bunched up the bottom of her tank top and twisted water from the material. Tristan had pulled his shirt off to wring it out—which was much more effective.

  Guys had it so easy.

  They had walked until they found a small alcove that was free of deadly vines, rushing rivers, and breaking walls, and decided to camp there for the night.

  Tristan’s forearm muscles shifted beneath his skin as he wrung out his shirt. The sound of their dripping clothes echoed off the cave walls, but aside from that it was silent and it felt like they were in their own world.

  It was a world of man-eating vines and falling rock—so not exactly paradise—but they weren’t sharing it with anyone else, which made it seem magical.

  In a good way.

  Not in a blue-water-evil-witch-curse way.

  She caught him staring at the scratch marks on his arms and smiled. “Is it freaking you out to have scars on your body?”

  “Not at all. I’m just not used to it. I’ve been injured plenty of times, but I’ve never had a wound mark me before.” He smiled. “I kind of like it.”

  “Me too. It’s hot.”

  “Oh yeah? Do I look tough?”

  She shook her head. “You look mortal.”

  His eyes held hers for a moment and wild hope burst inside her. If Tristan drank the fountain water, he would be mortal. And if Scarlet could somehow find a way around sacrificing herself, she could be mortal with him. And they could live a mortal life together and eat pancakes and live happily ever after.

  It was such an alluring thought that a lump formed in the back of her throat.

  “How’s your arm?” He asked, walking up to her and gently turning her arm.

  “Fine.” She shivered when he touched her.

  He frowned. “Your stitches tore open.”

  She looked down at where her wound had reopened and a thin trickle of blood ran down her arm. “I didn’t notice.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t.” He tossed his wet shirt on the ground and retrieved a med kit from his backpack.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sewing you back up.” He laid out his bedroll. “Sit down.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Even as she said it, more blood poured from her wound.

  “Yes, I know. You’re always fine. Sit down.”

  She sat on the sleeping bag and another shiver went through her.

  He smiled and started building a fire. “I can’t have you shaking while I’m running a sharp needle through your skin, now can I.”

  “Not if you want your stitches to look as perfect at Nate’s,” she said.

  “A challenge. I like that.”

  A few minutes later, a healthy fire blazed before them as Tristan sat beside her and carefully cleaned her arm.

  She stared at the red mark around her wrist from the rope, thinking of how easily they could have died in the river today.

  She watched him in the firelight. “Were you scared the first time you tried to kill yourself?”

  He paused for a moment. “Yes.” His eyes stayed on her arm. “I wasn’t afraid of the pain—though I should have been because it hurt like hell—but I was scared it wouldn’t work and you’d keep dying. And then I was scared it would work and that I’d never have a life with you.”

  He finished cleaning her arm and gently began threading the needle through her skin. She tried not to wince.

  “Then why did you keep trying to die?”

  He was silent a long time. “Because my love for you was stronger than my fear of being without you.” He smiled. “Story of my life, I suppose.”

  He finished stitching her up and dabbed a numbing cream on her wound before bandaging her arm.

  Scarlet stared down at the man who had lived to love her and tried to die to save her, and she was overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you, Hunter.”

  He smiled at her, his green eyes bright under his dark lashes. “I love you, too,”

  Desperation came over her as she took in his sweet dimples and patient eyes, and she leaned into him, kissing him with reckless abandon. Just to feel him without fear, to love him without pain one more time before she left his world.

  He kissed her back. Softly. Slowly. His hands slid behind her neck, warming her chilled skin as he tilted her head up to his. She crawled into his lap so she could feel his arms around her as she held his face. The stubble along his jaw rubbed against her fingers as she stroked his cheeks.

  She tried to memorize the contours of his face with her fingers, trailing them along his jaw and brow line as they kissed. She wanted her hands to remember him forever. Even in death. Even in nothingness.

  Her wet clothes heated against his bare chest as he held her in his arms, his lips soft, but demanding at her mouth. She parted her lips, sharing his breath as his tongue fell deep into her mouth. Hot, wet and wonderful.

  She shifted in his lap and gripped at his muscles. He was so warm and strong. She wanted to climb inside him and tuck herself in forever.

  She kissed a trail down the side of his neck and moved against his body. He groaned and clutched her hips, holding her to him as his hands slid under her tank top and heated her skin. He pulled the wet shirt from her body, their mouths parting for only an instant as he tossed it aside and went back to capturing her lips with his.

  With their bare chests pressing against one another, Scarlet was no longer cold. She was on fire. She brought her hands to his hair, loving how soft it felt between her fingers.

  He pressed warm, careful hands on her back and laid her beneath him on the bedroll as Scarlet’s hands drifted across his skin, running over hard muscles. His hands slid over her breasts and down her belly and she moaned into his mouth.

  If it was possible to burn someone into your soul, Tristan was ablaze in hers, and had been for centuries. Seared into her flesh and permanently marked on her heart.

  His mouth moved down her body as Scarlet tipped her head back and reveled in the sensation of his tongue sliding along her collarbone.

  They kissed and moved until they were both undressed and Tristan covered her exposed skin with his body.

  He gazed down at her for moment with loving green eyes.

  He kissed her cheekbone, then her eyebrow; He ran a finger over her lips and touched the shell of her ear. “I love you, Scar. So much.”

  “I love you too, Hunter. With all my heart.”

  He kissed spot just above her heart, his lips resting against the place where a piece of him had lived for so long. Her heart was his completely.

  He kissed a gentle trail back up to her mouth and kissed her fully.

  Here in Tristan’s arms, there were no curses or broken hearts. No sorrow. No sacrifice. It was just love.

  Ancient, messy, beautiful love.

  They moved against one another in the pulsing blue glow of the caves as their souls collided.

  They were Scar and Hunter, the way they always should have been.

  ***************

  Nate looked up and down the tunnel. “No falling floors. Awesome. I’m going to go journal.”

  “You’re what?” Gabriel blinked. “You’re going to go journal? What are you, a thirteen year old girl?”

  “Hey, journaling is cool,” he said.

  “Whatever, man.” Gabriel sat down beside Heather as Nate walked away.

  They had set up a spot to camp for the night and Heather’s eyes were growing more crazy by the second.

  “How are you doing?”

  She rubbed her head. “Not good. I feel insane. I feel like a hundred different people and all of them want to scream and cry and die.”

  She started wringing her hands together and biting at her lip over and over. Then she stood up and started walking around.

  “What, uh…what are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. She paced deeper into the cave in the opposite direction Nate had gone. “I just need to move.”

  “Yeah,
that’s probably not a good idea. Why don’t you come back over here, where there’s less chance of vine strangulation and open gaps in the ground?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, I have to move.” She kept shaking her head as she walked farther away.

  Gabriel stayed seated for exactly six seconds before following after her.

  This girl.

  Loud and ridiculous and completely unavoidable.

  Gabriel couldn’t seem to stop caring about the blond mess. She was so little and vulnerable. And happy. The girl was always absurdly happy.

  No one so happy deserved to have anything bad happen to them. Ever.

  Gabriel walked off after her and found her pacing along a glowing blue wall still wringing her hands together.

  “I’m losing my mind, Gabriel. Like actually losing my mind. I don’t know who I am or what I want and I’m so, so scared.” She shook her hands out. “And what if this fruit thingy doesn’t exist? What if we’re wrong about everything and there’s no cure and I’m just going to be psycho and then die?”

  She started to cry in a quiet, fearful way and it did something to him.

  He tentatively stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “I don’t want to die,” she said.

  “You’re not going to die.” He drew her into a hug and had that same protective sensation come over him.

  She tucked her face against his shirt, burrowing like she was hiding from the world in his chest. “Even if I don’t die, I’ll be this crazy, addicted person forever and have to live out here in the wild with the bears and werewolves just so I can be close enough to the fountain to stay alive.” She sniffed.

  He relaxed his arms around her and held her more closely. “I’ll tell you what. If you have to stay by the fountain for any reason, I’ll camp out with you and fend off any bears.”

  “What about werewolves?”

  “I’ll fend off werewolves, too. And dragons, if any of those pop up.”

  She sniffed again. “Okay.”

  They kept hugging and it didn’t feel weird. Gabriel liked how she felt in his arms and how she trusted him to keep her safe.

  He liked how she liked him.

  It felt real. Maybe it was.