I’m definitely impressed with his selection and sense of style. For someone who wears a black robe most of the time and hasn’t actually been alive in over two centuries, he knows how to match clothing rather well.
I try everything on and am surprised it all fits perfectly. How he knows my size is a little strange, but I don’t feel comfortable asking him about it. Why question it when he did something so nice for me?
I make the decision to just be happy that he was so thoughtful rather than focus on the weird aspect. I settle with a pair of green, red, and white striped fuzzy socks, a dark blue pair of jeans, and place one of the sweaters on the bed then tuck the rest of the clothing inside the dresser.
Next, I take the hygiene supplies and place them in the bathroom. Taking a quick shower with the soap and shampoo Degory bought me, I quickly dress to see if I can still help him put the rest of the food away. After hurriedly brushing my teeth, of course.
I step into the kitchen and immediately feel bad. He finished putting everything away already and is making food for us. It must be lunch time. My girly side decided to take longer enjoying the clothing than I actually anticipated. Oops.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” I announce, genuinely apologetic.
“It’s perfectly alright,” he reassures me with a sweet smile.
He turns away from the ramen noodle soup he’s preparing, and looks me up and down carefully – like he’s never seen the real me until now. Even though he knows what he bought, he seems shocked at how well the clothing fits, and how good it looks on me. I can’t say that I blame him since I feel the same way.
“Wow…” he breaths.
“What?” I blush.
“You look stunning,” he gushes, gnawing on his bottom lip.
“I’m just wearing jeans and a sweater,” I say, a little embarrassed.
I had never really thought about myself as particularly attractive, so it’s a little difficult for me to grasp the idea that he thinks I am. I, almost, think he’s playing a joke or simply trying to make me feel good, but his gaze is too authentic for me to deny it. He finds me extremely attractive, even if I don’t believe that I am. Maybe in time I’ll get used to it, but for now it’s yet another aspect about him I don’t quite understand, but want to.
“It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing,” he responds, casually but still in awe. “You always look amazing.”
I bite my lip and change the subject, flattered he feels that way but not really sure how to react to it. I’ve never liked feeling uncomfortable, so I choose the easier a way to remedy it.
“How about I watch the soup, while you start a fire?” I suggest, as innocently as I can. “I would do it, but I’m afraid I’ll get frustrated and accidentally use my powers…”
“Your wish is my command,” he jests, a mischievous grin adorning his lips.
He kisses my nose before making his way into the living area.
There isn’t much to watch, ramen pretty much takes care of itself, so I just have to make sure it doesn’t boil over. I’m more than grateful that he took the bait, though, and understood what I was trying to do. I swear he knows me better than anyone.
I stir the noodles with a fork while I listen to him restart the fire. He has a skill for many things, and creating a good fire is definitely one of them. I laugh to myself thinking about his talent with ice manipulation, yet he has no issues making a fire.
He returns as I’m emptying the flavor packets into the pan. He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and holds me tightly. We sway back and forth a bit while I mix the powder into the soup.
I, then, place my hands on top of his and lean back into him. He grabs my hands and spins me around to face him. It’s a careful move to make sure I don’t get dizzy and fall over, which is nice.
Pulling me close, he places his hand on my lower back and his other holds my hand out to the side, and he begins dancing with me.
I have never danced before, so I’m not sure what to expect or what to do. I’m so nervous I’m going to step on his feet. He is such a great leader though, that I never hurt him. He has absolute control over every single movement we make, which eases my anxiety the longer we waltz in the kitchen.
We laugh and dance for several minutes. He spins me around, dips me, and hums a tune I’m not familiar with. He brings our hands in so that mine is resting on his chest and continues swaying back and forth, laying his forehead on top of mine.
“You know, you’re adorable when you blush,” he mentions nonchalantly, reaching up with his hand and rubbing my cheek with his thumb.
I tilt my face into his hand.
“What is that song you’re humming?” I ask.
He takes his hand away from my face and puts it back with mine on his chest, playing with my fingers. He lowers his gaze so I can’t look him in the eye, either. The question seems to be a delicate subject for him.
“I’m not sure what the name of it is,” he admits, clearing his throat.
He looks down at my hand as he speaks, a little uncomfortable.
“All that I know is that it’s something from when I was still alive,” he says. “I remember my parents dancing to it, and my mother singing it to me as a lullaby when I was little.”
He lifts his head, gazing into my eyes, and the heat boiling inside me slows to a sizzle and cools off again. The way he can calm this thing inside me I can’t control myself leaves me in awe of him and what we share together. He looks so serious and sincere in his affection towards me as he studies my face. I can see sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. His smile returns for a moment before he kisses my forehead tenderly, and turning his attention to the soup that is starting to get cold on the stove.
“Are you okay?” I wonder aloud. “Was it something I said?”
He turns back to me looking like himself again, no sadness.
“Of course not,” he assures me.
He isn’t sad, but not showing any happiness either.
“I just don’t want the soup to get cold,” he says, “and I’m sure you’re ready to eat something.”
I’m not entirely convinced he is okay, but I have no reason to doubt him. I can tell he’s not being completely honest, but I don’t want to push him to tell me something he isn’t comfortable discussing.
I don’t think he’s ever talked to anyone about the life he had when he was alive, so opening up to me about it must be really difficult for him. Pressuring him about it won’t help. He will tell me in his own time, when he is ready.
He pours the soup into two bowls and hands me one. I lead the way back into the living room, sitting back down in front of the fireplace. This scene will never become boring for me. I would love to grow old spending my days with him in this place.
Then, I remember he won’t age the way I do, and that I won’t be able to grow old with him. I’ll be growing old by myself while he watches me slowly die.
How depressing is that?
I push the thought out of my head before it has the chance to dampen my spirits. He has been so great today. I don’t want to ruin it.
We take the same positions we had last night, me against the arm of the couch while my feet rest against his thigh. I use my feet to poke him gently and he responds by playing with my toes when he isn’t eating.
I ask him what it is like outside and he lets me know there had been a blizzard as we slept last night. He goes on to say he’s lucky he has the ability to use the shadow step or he wouldn’t have been able to make it through the snow. I’m sad that I slept through it. It would have been fun to wander in the falling snow with him.
“How far away is the nearest town?” I question, suddenly curious.
“It depends on what form of travel you are using,” he teases, with a grin.
“Okay, smartass,” I laugh. “Distance-wise, how far?”
“About twenty miles,” he smiles, mischievously.
He’s normally a little more talkative
when explaining things, so I’m starting to think he’s hiding something from me. Or just being playful.
“That’s not as far as I was expecting,” I admit, “but I still feel bad you went all that way by yourself.”
“I didn’t mind. I wanted to let you sleep, anyway. You’ll need some good rest if you want your body to recover so you can keep on training.”
“Maybe so, but you don’t have to take it easy on me, either.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks.
Chapter 15
With the soup gone and the dishes clean, I think it’s the perfect time to work on a little bit of training. There isn’t much else to do since we’re stuck here from the blizzard.
I push the couch back against the wall opposite the fireplace to make room for us to move around. I want plenty of room so I can fall without crashing into the fireplace. No idea what I’m doing, Degory looks at me as if he doesn’t understand what is going on.
“We can’t go outside and train with all the snow,” I explain. “So, let’s do some in here.”
He nods, comprehending my process, and without hesitating speaks.
“What would you like to work on today?”
“I think more in-depth self-defense practice will be good for today. I need to have some sort of proficiency in it if I want to stand any chance of getting away if soldiers from Eden show up unannounced.”
“I’m not sure they would announce themselves to begin with, but self-defense it is. Take a stance.”
I do as instructed and he comes at me as if he is an attacker. Not just someone off the street that might try to mug me, but a Reaper missionary from Eden. I use the moves he taught me yesterday to fend him off, and we practice this for several hours.
I’m starting to get bruises from our sparring, but I don’t care and he doesn’t ease up on me. I don’t want him to. I just want to become stronger so I don’t have to rely on him to defend me all the time.
I can feel him taking it easy on me after several hours, but I think it’s because I’m inexperienced compared to him, rather than not wanting to hurt me. He takes training very seriously, so I don’t ever have to worry about him holding back just to spare me some pain.
After long hours of continuous training, even though I’m not nearly as fast as Degory, I can feel myself becoming faster and reacting quicker. I’m becoming more adept at defending against his attacks with every attempt. If I had to take a guess, I can easily take down a man twice my size now, thanks to Degory’s teachings.
For his latest attack, he comes up behind me and I have to try and pin him down. He runs at me, and I flip him over my shoulder. Taken a little by surprise, he lands on the wooden floor with a loud thump and a soft grunt.
He’s easily able to counter my move so that I’m on the floor with him. He’s on top of me, so it’s a hard task to get the upper hand from here. After several minutes of wrestling, I lay on the floor – pinned down by him – and allow my limbs to relax and give up.
Degory immediately senses me stop fighting and gets off of me, kneeling at my side. I’m exhausted. I sit up, still on the ground after a particularly difficult attack. Barely sweating, he goes into the kitchen to grab me some water and hands a glass to me.
“You’re improving well,” he compliments me.
“Thank you,” I say breathing heavily.
I’m having trouble catching my breath and my left side is hurting a lot. I think he bruised one of my ribs.
“I don’t feel all that great after that last attack, though.”
“I was thinking about it –” he starts, but can’t finish thanks to me.
“You were able to think about other things while helping me train?” I interrupt, incredulously between breaths.
How in the hell was he able to focus on anything besides fighting?
I know he has more experience than I do, but what the hell? I guess that’s another reason why he’s a Captain, then.
“Yes,” he responds cautiously, as he doesn’t want to make me feel weak. “You have to remember, Sunny, I’m an experienced and skilled Reaper Captain. Training for me will be much different than training will be for you.”
“Okay,” I brush it off with a shrug, and a little more attitude than I mean to use.
He has a point, I’m just cranky from being tuckered out, so I shake my head trying to shake away the crankiness.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Well, the barriers I placed are weakening faster than I anticipated…”
“You had enough attention to check that, too?” I tease, still catching my breath.
“Yes,” he laughs, but only for a moment.
Serious news calls for serious business.
“I think we’ll need to move on from here in a few days.”
“Aww,” I pout.
I really like this place, now. It holds a lot of wonderful memories that I don’t want to end.
“I was starting to get settled in here.”
He smiles, helping me up off the floor. I drink another three glasses of water before I start to feel better and fully catch my breath. I clean myself up and replace the couch while Degory follows suit and changes his clothing.
He’s wearing dark blue pajama bottoms with a plain gray t-shirt. I didn’t see them before, but he must have kept them to himself when he first handed me my clothing. The pants are a little long for him, so they drag slightly when he walks. Even the shirt seems a little big for him, which is strange for how well he picked out my clothing.
Maybe he finds baggy clothes more comfortable?
It’s the only thing I can think of to explain it.
Either way, it looks good on him. It hides his muscles, but makes him look more like a boy my age rather than a two-century old Reaper Captain. It, also, makes me think about how I have yet to see how toned he is underneath that fabric.
His forearms and legs are almost all muscle, and from what I’ve felt of his chest, it’s pretty firm, too. The rest of his body has to be the same. I admit, I’m drooling a little thinking about it.
“Not going with the robe tonight?” I quip, playfully.
Teasing him is fun. He seems to enjoy the attention, which makes it even better. I hypothesis what his regiment mates would say if they saw him getting teased. Maybe they would even try it. I can see him getting extremely angry with them, though. That would be so much fun to watch!
“No,” he announces, with that classic, sweet smile of his. “I thought I would go with something a little more comfortable.”
I smile in return, and he does a little show for me – turning so I can see the back of his clothing, as well. Man, he has a great ass, too.
“How was it you were able to get others to see you at the store today?” I wonder. “I imagine they had to see you for you to pay for everything.”
“Kingsley gave me a few pills. Taking one of them allows my body to become visible to those in the Living World. The kind she gave me lasts for about five hours at a time. She’s created others so that we Reapers can almost live in them indefinitely, but I don’t need anyone to see me besides you.”
“You’re cute,” I blush.
This time he isn’t trying to make me blush, which makes it harder to hold back. He’s simply being his genuine, sweet self and letting me know his honest thoughts about the pills Ms. Kingsley had created.
“That’s really cool, though, that you can become visible to people who are still alive,” I admit. “That means I can introduce you to my family.”
“I would almost feel alive again,” he chuckles, and I can’t help but laugh with him.
It’s infectious and I love hearing it. The thought of not being able to ever tell my dad about the boy I’ve fallen in love with saddens me, but try not to dwell on it. There are worse things in life than not being able to introduce the one you love to your family. I don’t need their approval anyway, and that would be the only reason to do that.
Afte
r an hour or so of chatting about nothing, what Degory said about the barrier is starting to sink in. I feel safe here with him, so I almost forget that we are hiding and on the run from Eden.
I think I’m getting desperate, because all I can think about is that maybe if I learn to control this fire power, then maybe they won’t feel the need to come after me. Maybe they won’t feel so threatened by my existence. Maybe they will leave me alone. Even I know it’s only wishful thinking, but I have to try.
Degory falls asleep on the couch before I do this time. My head is buzzing with too many possibilities of what might happen and when they might come. It’s probably rash, but I make the decision to start learning to control my fire powers right here and now.
Even if Eden doesn’t accept me, it will at least help me in the fight against them. It might even give us an advantage, and take them by surprise. Sure, it might bring them to us faster, but I don’t have much to lose at this point. Besides my freedom.
I carefully slide down to the floor from the couch, trying not to wake Degory. Scooting around the coffee table, I get closer to the fire. If I want to control this power of mine, then I need to learn not to be afraid of it.
So, I take my hand and stick it into the heart of the fire burning strongly, without giving myself a chance to think twice. I close my eyes tight waiting for the pain to shoot from my hand, up my arm, but it doesn’t happen. I open one eye a little to make sure my hand reaches into the flames. Sure enough, my hand is completely covered by the fire.
I freak out momentarily, and pull my hand away. Opening both eyes wide, I lift my hand to examine it, but there is absolutely nothing wrong. There are no burns, not even any discoloration in my skin. I turn my hand from side to side, searching my palm and the back of my hand over and over again, not being able to comprehend why nothing has changed or why I’m not in any pain.
Poking and prodding prod every inch of my hand, I come up empty. I study both hands, searching for anything different about them since before I met Degory, but still find nothing. I’m almost disappointed until I realize it’s a good sign.
I think about all the fire I can feel boiling inside my veins and imagine it collecting within my hands. I hope that visualizing what I want will help me with the outcome I desire, and it doesn’t disappoint. I can sense the energy move from all over my body and centralizing in my hands.
Waiting a Lifetime (The Waiting Series Book 1) Page 14