To Where You Are (The Protectors of Light Series Book 1)

by K. A. Hobbs

  For once, I don’t have a comeback. I don’t have anything to say at all, actually.

  Two hours later, I find myself wearing riding boots, a hat and one of George’s jumpers, which I secretly sniff at every opportunity I get.

  As with all things, George makes horse riding look effortless. He’s cool, calm and collected, but most of all he’s completely in charge, which I find ridiculously sexy. He calmly instructs me what to do in a whole number of situations and then selects the horse he has picked for me and helps me up onto the huge beast’s back.

  “I don’t know about this.”

  He looks back over his shoulder once he’s in place and smiles kindly. “You’re going to be absolutely fine. Albus is wonderful with first timers. He’s the perfect young man for you.” He winks.

  “Oh, he is? Well then, hello, Albus.” I smirk, rubbing his strong neck.

  “We’re going to go slowly. The scenery is beautiful and we’ll stop for lunch a little way away.”

  “And said lunch is…?” I look around at the distinct lack of picnic basket.

  “It’s already there. I placed it there earlier.” He beams at me then nods. “Come on, let me show you why travelling in my day may not have been as fast or as flashy as it is now but was much more fun.”

  George sets his beloved horse Jet in motion, and I gently follow him with Albus. We wind our way through the countryside, stopping to admire the views, and occasionally for me to lean across and steal a kiss, because George is just like a magnet to me.

  “So, this is exactly how you would get from place to place when you were… what exactly do I call it? I never know.” I sigh.

  He chuckles, his strong arms easily leading the horse as just his head turns to look at me. “Alive would do it.”

  “It just doesn’t seem right. No one would say what we are isn’t living. Sometimes, I think I feel more alive now than I ever have.”

  “Living is what we make of it. There are plenty of people with pulses who make less of each day than you do. But then, they don’t understand yet how precious each of those heartbeats can be.”

  “I know I didn’t,” I say, thinking back to how I thought my whole life stretched out ahead of me. “I never thought about how short life can be and how, really, no one has a right to any length of time, or life events. Every one we reach is a gift. I wish people knew that.”

  “I believe Molly is starting to, in large part because of you.” He smiles, patting Jet’s sleek neck with those long, slender fingers of his that I can’t help but stare at.

  “I’m going to go see her tomorrow. I’ve left her alone long enough.” I frown at how serious this all is. I don’t want to do serious right now. “Can we race each other?” I ask, a little excited at the prospect of seeing George really show me what he can do with the beast between his legs.

  His forehead creases as he pulls Jet to a stop beside me, the cool command in his voice a contrast to the gentleness in his eyes when he gives me a searching look. “I’m meant to be taking care of you, Imogen. Not getting you hurt.”

  I pull Albus to a stop with none of the grace George did, and laugh. Really laugh. “Are you kidding? Because, you know we’re dead, right? I can’t die twice. Can I?” I ask, suddenly curious.

  He lurches forward with a smile, peeling back the sleeve of the sweater I’m wearing and pinching my skin, leaving a slight sting behind. “No. You can’t die again, but you can still feel pain.”

  “Ouch, clearly.” I glare at him. “Come on, please? If I get hurt—” I tell him, leaning closer to him, “—I’ll let you nurse me better.”

  Sighing, he shakes his head with a defeated look that I know already means I’m going to get my own way. “You make it very hard for a man to be chivalrous, Imogen.”

  “You’re always chivalrous—it’s one of the things I love about you—but letting me race you isn’t not being chivalrous. It’s just being a little crazy. It’s fun.”

  He looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes taking in every inch of me as though he’s weighing up his chances of winning any argument ever against me. Finally, he sits back a little, his posture relaxing. “I have conditions.”

  Grinning, I run my hand up and down Albus’ strong neck and raise an eyebrow. “If they’re anything like ‘you get to kiss me if you win’, I agree.”

  “Consider that added to the list.” He gives me that smirk that melts my entire bottom half without him even realising it, and slides gracefully from Jet’s back. “And Albus stays here.”

  I roll my eyes. “How am I supposed to race you if I leave the horse?”

  Walking over to me, he reaches up and lifts me effortlessly from Albus, letting me slide down his body until I come to a stop on the ground. Looking down at me, he grins. “You’re not racing. I’m not risking you. But,” he tells me, placing one perfect finger over my lips when I try to complain, “how about you sit with me on Jet and I show you how exhilarating it can be? Does that work?”

  I think about it.

  I really think about it.

  But it’s a no brainer. If I race him, he’s all the way ahead of me and I’ll be in charge of a beast. If I sit with him, I can press myself against his back, wrap my arms around his waist and really, that’s way more fun.

  “Deal.”

  “I thought you might see things my way,” he replies, pulling polos from his pocket and holding them out to Albus, who gobbles them up greedily.

  “This is a perfect representation of you in life, George, you know that? You just have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand. Everyone, and I mean everyone, adores you. Molly has such a crush on you.”

  “Not everyone,” he says grimly, his eyes turning to the horse nuzzling into him affectionately and stroking him absent mindedly.

  “Please. Name me one person who doesn’t adore you.” I laugh heading over to Jet and looking back at him expectantly.

  He mumbles something almost inaudible about confidentiality before lacing Albus’ reins to a thick tree branch and moving in behind me, his hands settling lightly on my waist. It’s never occurred to me to wonder what he does with his time when I’m not around. But I’ve spent so much time with Molly, he can’t possibly have spent the whole time playing the piano, can he?

  “Are you ready for the ride of your life?” he asks, with the most un-George-like tone, his hot breath causing my skin to breakout into goosebumps.

  “Oh, yes I am.” I grin, moving back so I can feel more of him.

  He presses a quick kiss to my neck before stepping to the side and vanishing from behind me. I look around stupidly, trying to see where he went when he taps the top of my head. “Ready?”

  “How did you do that?” I ask in awe. “Are you a wizard? Did you do some kind of spell and just magic yourself up there?”

  “I don’t own a horse called Albus for nothing, you know?” he says, clicking his teeth with a wink and reaching down a hand for me to take.

  He lifts me with one hand.

  One. Hand.

  “You know, when you’re all physical and you manhandle me? Kinda hot. Feel free to do that any time you like.”

  Chuckling, he tilts his head back until his face is next to mine and murmurs against my cheek, “Let’s see if you’re still saying that when you’re saddle sore in a few minutes.”

  “Oh, you’re such a tease.” I laugh loudly. “Make me sore, baby.”

  I catch his cocky grin for just a moment before he turns, pulls the reins tight and calls back, “Hold on tight, twinkle toes.”

  I wrap my arms tight around his waist, linking my fingers together and turning my head to rest my cheek on his back. He’s warm and strong, and for a second my attraction to him is dizzying.

  Then we’re moving, flying really, so fast that everything becomes a blur. The wind has my hair flying around, whipping me in the face and tickling my nose.

  “Are you okay?” he calls back to me.

  I can hear the excitement in his tone.
I can feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins. I can almost feel his happiness seeping into my skin.

  “It’s amazing. This is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before.”

  I can feel his laughter rumbling against my cheek, the sound carrying back to me on the wind, more joyful than any sound I’ve ever heard from him before. It feels like freedom, almost as though this is home for him. Although he’s done his best to adapt to the modern world, there must be times he longs for the simplicity of his old life. At least here, now, together, we can share some of that and revel in it, the two of us.

  We fly along with no sound but the thud of hooves and the rushing of the wind, and I appreciate for the first time how calming being outside with the person you love can be.

  When we begin to slow, I loosen my grip and press a kiss to his back. When I catch sight of Albus, I realise we’re back to where we started. We come to a complete stop and he turns to look at me.

  His eyes are alive, his smile taking over his whole face, and his cheeks are flushed. “So?”

  “Thank you,” I say. “Thank you so much for allowing me to share that with you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, I can assure you.”

  After a mouthwatering lunch, we leave the horses tied to two big trees and go for a walk. It’s not until we turn a corner that I realise what’s ahead of us, and I realise George’s intentions.

  I stop walking. “I… I can’t.”

  “I’m not going to make you, sweetheart,” he tells me, turning to face me. “I just thought perhaps a calm river would be a good place to start?”

  I feel myself grow clammy, my heartbeat beginning to race, and little black spots appear in my vision.

  “Ssh, Imogen, it’s okay. I promise you, you’re safe with me. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  His hands run up my arms, across my shoulders and to my back, before pulling me back into his embrace. “Focus on me, okay?” he tells me soothingly. “Look at me.”

  I take a deep breath and try to get my body to obey his request, but it just won’t cooperate. My head fills with memories, my lungs burning, and I want to scream. I want to yell, and I want to be as far away as possible from the wet death just a few feet away.

  “We can go back. I just want you to look at me. Can you do that?”

  I nod and look up at him. “Help me,” I whisper. “Stop this controlling me.”

  He drops his forehead to mine and inhales. “I want to help you. I want you to take the control back. I want you to be in control.”

  “I can’t be. It’s too powerful.”

  He places his palm on my chest, right over my heart. “I believe in you.”

  I listen to his voice, focus on his breaths, and I remind myself over and over again that I’m with George. I’m safe and I’m in control.

  And slowly, my body begins to respond—slowly, I begin to regain control over all my senses.

  “There you go.” He smiles, kissing my lips softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

  A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it down. I blink rapidly and curse the tears that fall over my cheeks, a painful reminder of my weakness, a reminder of the fact that, when it came down to it, I couldn’t fight.

  “I love you,” I tell him, pulling his face down to mine, desperately seeking a deeper level of comfort only George can bring me.

  “I love you,” he replies softly, breaking our kiss to pepper kisses over my face. “I love you.”

  His tenderness makes something deep inside me click into place. His love helps heal me a little and I feel a sudden rush of love for him that almost knocks me off my feet.

  I stumble, causing both of us to fall with a heavy thud against a big tree. The minute my back hits the trunk, he spins and trades places with me then lifts me off the ground, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  I grab handfuls of his hair, tugging him closer to me, trying to shrink the already small space between us even more.

  “Imogen… stop,” he pants.

  “There’s no reason to stop. There’s no one here.”

  “I know.” He smiles shyly. “But this… not here.”

  I nod, understanding how important this is to him. He needs to be a gentleman, and I need to let him.

  I slide off of him and reach for his hand, bringing our clasped fingers to my lips. “One day.”

  We make our way back to the horses and enjoy a leisurely ride back to the stables. Once the horses are safely shut away for the night, we head back home.

  When we arrive, George walks me to my quarters, kissing me softly and telling me he has a few things to do.

  “Thank you for the best time today. It’s been amazing.”

  He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear and kisses me. “Thank you for coming. I’ll see you later?”

  “You bet.”

  He kisses me one last time before turning and heading down the hall, leaving me with tingly lips and a ridiculously goofy grin on my face.

  My body stiffens as daylight pierces its way through my eyelids, burrowing deeper into the warmth that surrounds me and groaning softly. For the first time in almost two years, when consciousness hits, I don’t have those few blissful seconds I’m used to where everything feels like it might be normal. Reality hits me right in the chest like a ten tonne truck, battering straight through any sense of contentment I might have been experiencing.

  I’m not alone.

  My body is pressed up tightly against a strong, familiar male form, arms encasing me to a toned chest like bands of steel. All the air seems to be sucked from the room the moment the realisation of what I’ve done hits me.

  This is my bed, my marital bed. The one I shared with my husband, the man I loved. The man I failed.

  How could I be so callous as to bring another man into his home, his bedroom, his sheets? The scent of him will be gone, replaced by Sebastian’s spicy cologne that has the power to make my heart turn over inside my chest and my stomach clench tightly.

  I’m nothing but a cheap whore. My husband is barely cold in his grave and already I have feelings—deep, powerful feelings—for another man. I’ve fought it—God knows I’ve fought it—but somehow, I’ve ended up here nonetheless.

  Attempting to roll away, I find myself blocked by the cage of muscle around me that felt protective last night. Now, though, the heat seeping from his skin into mine feels as though it’s branding me as unfaithful for all the world to see.

  Wriggling slightly, I hesitate when his perfectly measured breaths stutter at the movement. I can’t wake him. Not now.

  I just need to get out of here. I need to breathe, to think, to stop this guilt from eating me alive. How can I lie here and enjoy his embrace while deep inside, I’m choking to death on the flames of my betrayal?

  It takes almost longer than I can bear, but I do eventually manage to disentangle myself from his grip, leaving him to let out a disgruntled huff in his sleep before rolling over onto his side and grabbing a pillow to hold on to instead of my body. He replaces me as easily as I’ve replaced Ben…

  Don’t think about that. Just get out.

  I scarper, racing from the bedroom, from the house, clad only in my pyjamas, as though my tail is on fire, heading for the only place I know that’s bound to bring solace of some kind.

  My feet thud against the sand, sending it flying up around me as I race desperately for the water, seeking the peace that only it seems able to bring me. My skin tingles with discomfort, like thousands of small creatures are burrowing their way around beneath it, and my hands scratch at it, wanting to tear it all away. I want it all to go, to leave me be—the memories, the guilt I feel for what happened to Ben and the new and unexpected feelings I’m having for Sebastian. I feel guilty for every time I’ve laughed, every time I’ve felt even the smallest moment of happiness or pleasure, because I know I don’t deserve any of it. The hell I’ve lost myself in since the moment Seb told me Ben was gone—that is what I deserve. I hav
e no right having these feelings for another man when I caused the death of the one I loved.

  Finally, I feel the icy cold water licking at my feet, the sudden chill sending prickles through my skin and racing up my ankles. The water is always cold, no matter the weather. The air is relatively mild, even though it’s so early the sun hasn’t come up yet, but the water temperature takes my breath away as I wade in past my ankles. Needles attack every inch of skin the water touches, but still it isn’t enough. I turn my back to the ocean, taking in the lights shining dimly from the kitchen window of my little cottage—the scene of the crime. It looks so warm and inviting, even more so with the cold penetrating my skin and sinking in deep to my bones. This, right here, is where I belong. Out in the cold. I keep my eyes on the lights until the last possible moment as I drag in a deep, warm breath and allow myself to fall backwards into the frigid embrace of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Cold stabs at me like knives, and I accept each and every one. This is my punishment, my penance. As my ears fall beneath the water, my eyes gaze up at the stars in the inky black sky, and I whisper quiet apologies to Ben. Over and over, I repeat the words: “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” My teeth chatter and my body turns stiff from the cold as I float there in my ocean of repentance, and it occurs to me how easy it would be to let the waves just carry me away. Each time I come here, I long to succumb to the power of the sea, but living without him is my curse, so somehow, my feet always find the sand again. All I can hear is the muffled sound of the waves, relentless and rhythmic, lulling my body further and further from the shore. My stiff arms move through the waves, keeping me afloat as the water crashes over my face. Dimly, I register that it ought to bother me, but I barely even notice it.

  I’m not shivering any more. The waves have lulled my body into relaxation, and I barely even feel the need to pull in breath after breath any more. A deep, calming peace washes through my body as I allow myself to be carried away, buffeted by each wave as it hits. The barrage of thoughts that have been attacking me all day finally drift into silence, and all I hear is the waves, all I feel is the rocking of the ocean, and all I see is the stars as I drift towards them. It’s always darkest right before the dawn.