by Anna White
She fumbled in her pocket for her keys as they approached the front door, and he unlocked it and pushed it open with his foot. He carried her into the darkened living room and started to lower her onto the couch, but she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. "What are you doing here?"
Lucian tightened his arms around her and nuzzled his face against her cheek, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I'm protecting the one that I love."
The one he loves! His words ignited an explosion of emotions in her chest. She opened her mouth, but he lay a finger against her trembling lips before she could form a question. "We need to talk," he said, "but you should get warmed up first."
She reluctantly allowed him to lower her to the floor. As their bodies separated, she shivered, really feeling the cold for the first time. "You'll be here when I come back?" she asked, searching his eyes for reassurance.
"I swear," he repeated. He pressed her hand to his heart, then kissed her fingertips. "Now go."
Samara hurried to her room and grabbed a sweatshirt and jeans before she headed into the bathroom. She turned the shower as hot as it would go and let it run as she peeled her wet clothes off and dropped them onto the floor. She stood in front of the mirror and stared at herself. Its edges were beginning to fog, but she could still see her face clearly at its center. Jack's fingers had left imprints around the edges of her face where he had gripped her, and her wrist ached painfully where he had wrapped his fingers around it. She shuddered. What would've happened if Lucian hadn't come to save her?
She climbed into the shower and stood beneath the stream of hot water, letting it wash away the chill and terror of the evening. She was still confused about how Lucian had found her, and why, but she was too elated to worry. He'd appeared, after all these weeks, like the answer to a prayer. She closed her eyes and remembered Lucian throwing himself at Jack. No one had ever fought for her before. And here, in her living room, he had called her the one that he loved.
Her stomach fluttered nervously. She believed he did love her; his actions tonight left little room for doubt. She shut the water off and dressed quickly, eager to return to him. There were questions to be asked, answers to be given. But whatever words lay between them, waiting to be said, one thing was true. He had captured her, from the moment she first saw him. Her heart belonged to him completely.
Lucian was sitting on the couch in semidarkness, waiting for her. He stood up as she walked toward him, and her heart beat wildly with every step. "I guess my mom didn't wake up," she whispered.
Lucian shook his head as he reached for her. "No."
She closed her eyes as he rested his hands on her forearms. "I thought you didn't want to see me anymore," she whispered.
"I never said I didn't want to," Lucian corrected softly. He stroked his hands gently down her arms, letting his fingertips trail over her skin. "I said I shouldn't. There was never a day that I didn't want to see you, or a night that you weren't in my dreams."
"I didn't know what to think," Samara said. "You hurt me. You embarrassed me in front of almost everyone that I know."
Lucian nodded, his eyes filled with regret. "I know. I thought I was doing what was best for both of us. I told myself that I was protecting you, but I was wrong."
His head dipped closer to hers, and Samara blushed as her breath grew ragged. "What do you think now?" she asked.
His lips were on her mouth before she could finish the question, stealing all thought away. She gave up any pretense of resistance and melted into his arms. She didn't know if minutes or seconds passed before they finally broke apart. The ground seemed to be moving beneath her feet, and she buried her head against his arm as she steadied herself, embarrassed by her reaction.
"Your clothes are wet," she said as she drew away from him. "Aren't you cold?"
Lucian shook his head as he stroked her cheek. "You know we need to talk."
Samara's eyes flashed nervously. "You're not about to say we shouldn't see each other again, are you?"
"No," Lucian said. "I don't think I have the strength to say those words."
He sighed, cradling her head between his hands. "I love you." He caressed her lips with the edge of his thumb, making her heart skip a beat. "My mind knows I shouldn't. But my heart…." His voice trailed off, and Samara could hear the inner struggle as he weighed his words. "My heart doesn't listen."
"Why shouldn't you love me?" Samara's voice wobbled, and she held her breath as she waited for his answer.
"It's too selfish," he said. "You'll only get hurt." He brushed his lips against her jaw line, dropping gentle kisses onto each tender bruise. "You already have."
"You didn't do this to me," Samara protested. "You saved me."
"My beautiful, frail, human," Lucian smiled down at her sadly. "What do you think drew Jack's attention?"
Samara tried to make sense of her confused thoughts. She had so many questions, but none of them were as real as his words and the warmth of his arms. "All that matters is that you love me." She felt her body go hot, and she blushed furiously, "and that I love you."
"I wish that were all that mattered." Lucian sighed. He gently unwrapped her arms from around his waist and took a small step backward, squeezing her hands tightly in his. "You deserve to know the truth."
Samara nodded, her brown eyes serious. "Okay." She threaded her fingers through his and led him out of the living room and into a small bedroom off the garage. "This is my room," she said. "We can talk in here without having to whisper." She lifted his hands to her lips and kissed his palm lightly. "I'll be right back."
Chapter 60
She vanished from the room, and Lucian looked around curiously. The bedroom was small with a tall, uncovered window that looked out onto the sky. A twin bed was wedged into the corner beneath the window, and a dresser and a tall bookcase filled the opposite wall. Before he could take in more, Samara returned and pressed a faded blue t-shirt and plaid drawstring pants into his hands. "Go change," she said. "I think this is a conversation that could take a while."
He started to protest, but she ran her hands through his hair and pulled out a small shard of glass. "You're soaking wet," she said, "and a little dirty. Change into these, and I'll put your clothes in the dryer until you're ready to leave."
He changed quickly. The bathroom was still steamy from Samara's shower, and the air smelled like her shampoo. He wiped the mirror dry with a towel, and when he splashed water on his face and arms grit from the parking lot ran down into the sink. He winced as the warm water ran over his skin, and noticed cuts covering the backs of his hands for the first time. When he breathed deeply he felt a pain in his side, and he wondered if his rib was broken. The sensation of pain was new, bright and sharp, but he ignored it. It was a small cost to pay for her safety.
He returned to Samara and handed her his dripping clothes. She disappeared again, briefly, to throw them into the dryer, and then she was back. She led him further into room and closed the door behind them. She slid a small lock on the door, and then they were alone.
She climbed onto her bed and motioned for him to come and sit down beside her. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed and perched there, unsure of what to do. He felt awkward, and he searched for the courage to tell her the truth. She placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him toward her, and his thoughts melted away. When their lips met, she sighed against his mouth, and he leaned into her embrace. He was falling again. He was losing himself, but he wasn't afraid.
Finally they broke apart, and Samara fell back against the headboard. She hugged her pillow to her chest and stared at him. She was so beautiful, he thought, and so distracting, all wet hair and wide eyes and parted lips. "Okay," she said, "let's talk."
He shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed and wondered where to begin. He had spent hours thinking about how to tell her the truth, but now that the moment was here, his mind was blank. She waited impatiently; after a few second
s she blurted out, "How did you know where to find me?"
"I was following you," he admitted. "I tried to warn you about Jack, but you didn't listen. I just wanted to make sure that you were safe."
"I should've listened to you," she said. "I didn't even want to go out with him, but I thought it would make you jealous."
"It worked," Lucian chuckled. He reached down and intertwined his fingers with hers. "I was insanely jealous."
"Good." She rolled forward, hugging her pillow between her knees. "I don't understand how Jack can be your stepbrother. How can you be so different?"
"We've both had choices to make, and they've led us down different paths. He's not exactly a stepbrother, that was just the closest thing I could think of."
Lucian held her hand more tightly and looked into her eyes. "We were brothers in the Host, long ago, but he joined the Fallen, and I remained with the Light." He hesitated as Samara stared at him blankly. "We're angels," he said.
Samara started to laugh, but stopped when she saw his serious expression. "You're angels?" she repeated. "Like my guardian angel?"
"Not exactly. I'm a Dominion. Kind of like a Guardian for the world. I watch over events from the Heavenlies and send help if it's needed."
"Uh huh," Samara nodded. "And Jack is an angel too?"
"Yes. One of the Fallen."
Samara rocked back and studied Lucian skeptically. "If you watch over the world, then what are you doing here, in my bedroom?"
"I'm not sure exactly," Lucian said. "I crossed over-"
"Crossed over?"
"Into Time." Lucian slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. "The Heavenlies are outside of Time. Things don't happen sequentially there, the way they do here. We can see everything at once."
Samara stared at him wide eyed. "You know the future?"
"No," he said. "Only what could be. The past is fixed, and the future is always changing. It depends on the choices being made on the Earth."
"I still don't understand why you're here." Samara closed her eyes and pressed her head against her knees. "Why would an angel-," her voice cracked and she swallowed nervously. "Why would an angel be with me?"
Lucian sighed. "I really don't know. I crossed to find a key, but I couldn't find it. I thought it was because I was too distracted by you. After Homecoming, after I left, I devoted myself to searching." He stroked her hair gently, and she shivered as his touch radiated down her spine. "That's why I wouldn't talk to you. I was trying to forget you and focus on my mission. I thought it was the only way."
He fell silent, and Samara turned her head to look at him. His eyes were closed, his lips pressed together tightly as if he were in pain. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. His voice was a weight, heavy and sad. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."
"Why didn't you just tell me the truth?" she asked. Hot tears prickled behind her eyelids and she blinked hard to push them back. "Maybe I could've helped you."
"I didn't know what to do. You're so different from everyone else, so different than I expected humans to be." He lifted her arm and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. "You make me feel so many things I don't understand."
"But you changed your mind," Samara whispered. "You came back."
He nodded. "Despite all my efforts, you were unforgettable." He gave her a crooked smile that made her heart trip erratically. "Duncan and Sofia kept telling me I should follow my heart. It just took a while for me to believe them."
"What happens if you never find the key?"
"I don't know," Lucian said. "The Timeline was disappearing when I left. I don't know how being here on Earth has changed things, if it's had any effect at all."
"You can't go back?" she asked.
"I could, but it's not easy. I'd have to leave this body behind. It takes time to start over, so we try to stay in one body as long as possible, at least until our assignments are complete."
Samara traced her fingertip gently over the cuts on the back of his hand. "So if you leave, I'll never see you again?"
"If I leave," Lucian promised, "I'll come back and find you, no matter how long it takes." He reached out and pulled Samara against him, hugging her to his chest. A drop of moisture fell onto his arm and he raised her chin. "Are you crying?"
She shook her head, then gave an enormous sniffle. "I guess I am," she said. She laughed nervously as his strong hands caressed her cheeks and brushed her tears away.
"Why?"
"It sounds like you don't have a choice. You'll do your mission, and find your key thing, and then you'll go back to where you belong." Her chest tightened painfully and she choked over her words. "If you succeed, you'll be lost to me."
"There's always a choice," Lucian reassured her. "Always." He kissed her forehead softly. "I love you," he said. He lips trailed down her face, brushing slowly over her nose, across her eyelids. "I would stay with you forever, until the end of Time."
Samara raised her face to his. "This sounds crazy," she said.
Lucian nuzzled her ear. "Do I seem crazy?" He could feel the warmth of her skin against his cheek, and he heard her sigh as he smoothed her hair back and continued his trail of kisses down her neck and across her collarbone.
"A little," she murmured, "but I believe you." A sudden feeling of exhaustion overwhelmed her. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she wanted to stay awake, to stay in this moment, forever.
"You should rest," Lucian said softly.
A clap of thunder shook the house and she shook her head. "I can't sleep."
"Yes you can." He stroked her hair tenderly and shivers shot down into the pit of her stomach. "You'll go to sleep as soon as you close your eyes."
She snuggled into his chest, listening to the deep, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Will you stay with me," she mumbled, "until I fall asleep?"
Lucian gently lowered her shoulders back onto her pillow. "It would be my pleasure."
He lay down beside her and Samara rested her head on his arm. She was tired. The exhaustion was creeping up on her, thick behind her eyelids. "I think I've loved you since you first walked into the office at school," she murmured.
A small noise escaped the back of Lucian's throat and he squeezed her shoulders hard. "I know," he said. He rolled her toward him until her face was buried in his chest and she could no longer see his face. "Close your eyes."
The rain continued to fling against the window and occasional flashes of lightning lit up the room, but Samara felt completely safe, protected. She struggled to stay awake, but Lucian began humming softly into her ear. She recognized the melody from the night of Homecoming, when they were dancing slow in the darkness. His voice filled her head as she drifted off, carrying her away into the sweetest of dreams.
Chapter 61
Jack sped up the circular driveway, narrowly dodging other vehicles, and squealed to a stop. The party was still in full swing; laughter drifted through the front door, and he could see a group of girls gathered around the Christmas tree.
He burst through the front door and shoved his way to the radio. He snapped the volume off, silencing the Christmas music that had been blaring throughout the house, and glared at the people standing closest to him. "Get out!"
Silence fell over the room as everyone turned in his direction. "The party's over," he shouted. "Go!" He could hear whispers spread across the room as he shoved his way through the crowd to the kitchen. "You too!" he shouted to a couple making out behind the pantry door. He swept his hand across the counter, sending empty bottles skidding across the granite and crashing to the floor.
He pulled a bottle of bourbon from beneath the counter and gulped it down without pouring it into a glass. He relished the heavy warmth that spread through his body as the liquid burned down his throat, and let the bottle fall to the floor. He rested his hands against the edge of the counter and let his head hang down loosely, ignoring the sounds of footsteps and hushed voices as a people scurried through the kitchen behind him.
He could sporadically hear the spatter of rain and the sound of cars pulling out of the driveway as the front door opened and closed over and over again. Desiree stood at the door saying goodbye to their departing guests. Her voice repeated "Merry Christmas" over and over, and he ground his teeth together. She had been right. Samara was just another stupid, ordinary, human girl. The only thing special about her was the fact that somehow, however improbable, she had made the Dominion fall in love with her.
He spun around defiantly as Desiree walked into the kitchen. "Say it," he growled.
She rested her arms against the back of a barstool, watching him from across the room. "Say what?"
"You were right." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood up his forearm. "Everyone left?"
Desiree nodded as she slowly crossed the kitchen. She stopped in front of Jack and studied the blood and scratches covering his face. "It doesn't matter that I was right."
She rested her palm against his cheek, then ran her fingers across his eye socket and the bridge of his nose. "Some of these cuts are pretty deep, but at least nothing seems to be broken." She disappeared from the room and returned a few seconds later with a small leather case and pointed to one of the barstools. "Sit down," she said.
"No."
"Don't be stupid." Desiree snapped open the case and pulled out a small tube of adhesive. "It's your choice, this or stitches."
Jack reluctantly crossed the room and sank down on the barstool. He closed his eyes as she dabbed at his wounds with a damp rag. "This one on your forehead is the worst," she murmured. "I have to pull the edges together."
A breath hissed out between his teeth as she pushed her fingers into his skin. "There," she said finally. "You're not too damaged." She ran her finger across his forehead and down his left arm. "Although you are going to have a spectacular black eye."
She slid onto the stool beside him and looked at him sympathetically. "Was she worth all the effort?"
Jack's throat tightened. He burned at the memory of his humiliation. "No."