Surrendered: A Collection of Five Works

by Unknown

  He hadn’t really thought about it. He was not sure when he had actually bought the ticket or made the conscious decision to change plans so he was not a little surprised to find himself seated on a flight to London.

  This was his third day – a walking love song – braving the hordes of passersby. Luke thought the best lookout point for him would be the visitor entry point located at St Margaret’s Street. Standing outside the imposing building that was the Palace of Westminster, he could appreciate Vitoria’s love for its grand architectural style.

  Each time Luke managed to spot a head of auburn curls his heart skipped a beat. Each time was a false alarm. Was this a foolish hope? To any reasonable person it was. In the cold light of day even he agreed to the fact. But even in this bleakest of moments, with only a mustard seed’s chance of hope, Luke drew on the comfort he felt to the stately presence of architect Charles Barry’s iconic structure. It tied her to him. And while he had that, Luke felt he held the world. A feeling that compelled him to make an appearance on what was to be his last day in London.

  Luke’s thoughts drifted back to that day he had last seen Vitoria in the bookshop. The unexpected sudden sight of her had given his heart an electric jolt. He knew then that no attempt to erase her memory from his heart would be successful. But while seeing her again began to melt the ice structure that stood in for his heart, he still felt the anger brought on by her deception. It was why he behaved so frostily towards her. What he hadn’t counted on, was her disappearing so soon. He now wished he had distanced himself from Julie. He admitted to himself he had wanted to use Julie’s presence to make Vitoria jealous. What an utter fool he had been. Why hadn’t he just taken her into his arms when he ached to hold her?

  Vitoria was late. By now the hordes of tourists would have gathered and she shuddered at the thought of being jostled about, robbing her of the ability to move about unhindered and the pleasure of unrestricted views of the age-old buildings. Not going, however, was not an option she was willing to consider. She would just have to make the best of a less-than-perfect situation. Picking up her sketch pad and pencils, she made her way to the heart of London.

  She heard the commotion before she saw the throng of people outside the Visitor’s entry point. Shouts of outrage could be heard above the clamor of the crowd, although she could not make out any specific words. Security personnel began to haul individuals off, probably for questioning she thought. The flock of people, seeing that the excitement had come to an end began to thin out.

  Was it a trick of her imagination? Even from behind the honey-colored hair and familiar gait had her breath caught in her throat. Did her broken heart conjure up an image of Luke in London? Except why was he being dragged off by the authorities?

  “Luke!” she called after his retreating form. “Luke!” she yelled again in vain.

  This was hardly the reunion either of them could have foreseen. But even under the guise of suspicion, there could be no two hearts that danced in joy. After making inquiries it took a while for Vitoria to make her way through the dizzying hierarchical chain of security command before she could see Luke and vouch for him and secure his release.

  “I thought my cause all but lost but that didn’t stop me from keeping vigil,” Luke admitted to her.

  They had found a park bench while ambling through Kensington Gardens where they sat enraptured in each other, half hidden from the world.

  “When I saw you again I thought my heart would burst.” Luke held on to Vitoria tightly too afraid that she might disappear again if he let go.

  “I don’t understand why you were marched off too. The others admitted you were not part of the prank.”

  Vitoria reveled in having Luke’s arms around her once again; joyous at the thought that this time there was a more permanence to it.

  “A misunderstanding,” he said ruefully, shaking his head at his next words. “It seems that I had caused a certain amount of suspicion by skulking outside the visitor’s entry point for three days waiting for a sight of you, my love. I caught the attention of security cameras.” He kissed her lightly on the nose.

  Not wanting to drudge up memories of her deception but knowing something’s still needed to be said, she started off cautiously.

  “Luke, I really am sorry for having lied about my identity. I wanted to put as much distance between me and the whole sorry episode with Graham.”

  “I am no longer going to complain about how you entered my life,” he said leaning in for a kiss, “just gratitude for you taking on the role of my better half.”

  The Sun Sets

  Chapter 1

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have the first copy ready by the deadline.” I listened as my agent, Jeremy, rattled on about the importance of my upcoming book and how it needed to be even better than my debut novel. I am one of the lucky few writers in the world who wrote my debut novel, a fantasy piece about an entirely new world, and had instant success. That should be a good thing, that should be a great thing, but what it really had become was a burden. I’m a self-proclaimed nerd and love it. Anything Sci-Fi, fantasy, or paranormal is right up my alley. So when I set about writing my first novel, it was really only for me. I’d never dreamed that it would become a sensation around the world and that people would be scrambling for the next book I wrote, especially because I hadn’t planned on writing one.

  I wouldn’t have even approached an agent or a publisher if it hadn’t been at the insistence of my fellow bloggers who read small excerpts of my characters’ journeys and then pleaded for me to make it into a book. So I did.

  “We got to strike while you’re still hot! We can’t let the public forget the first story, we have to keep pushing it! And it needs to be better than the first.”

  “Oh gee, well no pressure there right?

  As his phone calls to me mounted and I spent more time reassuring him that I could come up with a great next story and complete it by the time the publisher wanted it, I realized I was spending more time making him feel better than I was actually writing. So, I booked myself a beach cottage for the week and said goodbye to Jeremy. No phone calls, no interruptions. I had continually assured him that it was coming along amazingly, when in actuality I literally didn’t have any ideas and I needed to get moving.

  “Ok Jeremy, I’m at the cottage so I have to go…” He gave me his final words of encouragement, or stress depending on how you looked at it, and hung up. Relieved that I would be Jeremey free for at least a week I took a relaxing sigh and unlocked the door to the cottage. Opening the door, I saw exactly what I’d hoped to find. There was an open living room with a tiny attached kitchen that both looked welcoming and comfortable. Immediately, what became my favorite part of the house was the double doors that lead to a balcony. Dropping my bags in the entryway I walked over to the doors and threw them both open letting in the salty air. As soon as the ocean breeze hit my face I knew that the balcony was exactly where I’d be spending most of the week. It even had a stairway that lead down to the beach so I could go up and down as I pleased.

  Already I felt at home and like I never wanted to leave. I thought that perhaps if my next book was as big as my first and I could prove that I wasn’t a fluke, I could actually buy my own little beach cottage and come and go as I pleased. For a moment I stared at the waves calmly rolling in and out and I could almost picture what my life could be like. It’s thoughts like that where I usually get into trouble because I spend too much time fantasizing instead of writing. However on the flip side, it is my ability to live off in my own world that caused me to write my book in the first place so I guess I have to accept that my ability to fantasize is a blessing and a curse. But if I didn’t get actually writing, then I’d never be able to buy my own little cottage.

  I hadn’t packed much, just a few different clothes, mostly comfortable short and tanks, and of course my bathing suit, and some food for the cupboards. I also had snuck myself a couple bottles of wine because…well…it’s win
e and I’m alone for the week. It takes me only a few minutes to get my clothes into drawers and the food and wine put away and I feel immediately settled and calm. I could already tell that there was something special about the cottage…something unique, and I knew it was going to be perfect for my inspiration. Feeling rejuvenated I snagged my laptop from my bag and went out to the balcony. Booting it up, I could see that the power was full so I knew I was ready to go.

  The cursor blinked at me on the bright white page and I just stared at it empty. My first story had been filled with dragons, fire balls, quirky elves, and dank dungeons. If I’d had any clue my first book would have sold so well I would have made sure to make it a book I could make a sequel to, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Suddenly inspiration stuck, what if I did a prequel? Or took a favorite character from the other book and wrote a story just for him? My fingers started itching to get started, the first bit of excitement I’d felt since Jeremy started breathing down my back.

  This was going to require wine to get my juices really flowing, so I left everything out on the balcony and went into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator and opening a bottle of crisp white. My mind was reeling with possibilities of where I could go with these new thoughts and I actually wanted to get started right away. There was a small chance that I was going to get the book done by deadline, but I knew I had to get really writing. Back on the balcony I sipped my wine and pulled up the notes I’d had saved from my first novel. I was thinking that my character Miguel would be the most adventurous to write about so I started to brainstorm.

  The waves were soothing to watch as I jotted down ideas about what could happen in his stories. I was surprised to see just how empty the beach was at this time of day, it wasn’t exactly late in the day but the sun was starting to set and turn the blue sky into pale oranges and pinks and I couldn’t keep my eyes off the horizon. Just when I thought the ocean was playing in the waves all by herself, a body popped up out of the foam and I could see the muscled torso of a man emerge.

  Where had he come from? I’d been watching the water for a while and hadn’t seen anyone in the water or even strolling the beach. I supposed he could have come out when I was pouring my wine so I just left it at that. There was something about him, something more mesmerizing than the waves and the sunset, something about the way his body was moving so fluidly as if he was a part of the ocean himself.

  I shook that thought away quickly, was I crazy? I may have been all into fantasy and everything but my thoughts were bordering on a merman hypothesis with the way he moved and that was just ridiculous. But still, he swam through the surf in a way that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. His eyes came up suddenly from the water and directly into my eyes. My breathing stopped and I could feel my face flush. Even from the distance of my balcony I could see his eyes were the brilliant blue of the water. Awkwardly caught I didn’t know what to do so I lifted my glass in a mock cheers. He smiled and gave me a wave and I felt my face grow warm immediately. Even from where I sat I could see just how gorgeous he really was. I’d never been one to have the attention of someone that looked like him and I didn’t know how to handle it. So, as gracefully as I could, I scooped up all of my things and started to scoot myself inside when I ran smack into the screen door. Luckily I didn’t drop my lap top or my wine, but I risked a glance back and saw that he was chuckling as he strode out of the water. Probably the least graceful and most embarrassing thing I could do and of course it had to be witnessed by the man who at least from my view, was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

  I spent the rest of the night nursing my bruised ego and nose while polishing off the bottle of wine. All I could hope was that he was just some random swimmer that I would never see again instead of the terrifying possibility of him being my neighbor on the beach. I dove head first into my lap top and by the time I looked at the clock again, a few hours had passed and I had a rough outline and a couple decent chapters. Stretching, I felt good about the work I’d accomplished and thought I deserved a little break with a walk on the beach before I went to bed.

  The beach at night was my absolute favorite place to be and always had been. Everything was quiet and calm, the deep blues and purple of the sky reflecting millions of stars into the already sparkling water made the whole place feel alive with magic. I sat in the sand which was cooling off yet still had some warm spots left from the sun and I dug my feet in, burying my toes. It could have been a matter of minutes or maybe an hours that I sat there, letting the sand run through my fingers and listening to the calm of the water, before I felt someone sit down beside me. Looking over immediately my jaw dropped in surprise, it was the gorgeous swimmer.

  “Well, it looks like you didn’t bruise from the run in with your door,” his voice was quiet and deep with a little laugh in it. Immediately I pictured the deepest parts of the ocean.

  I shook my head realizing he was waiting for me to say something to him instead of just fantasizing about him.

  “Yea, I guess I came out victorious in that,” I answered. I’d never been one to play it cool or flirt with a guy, it was probably why I was in my twenties and still very boyfriend-less and recently very dateless as well. Apparently talking about mythical unicorns and how biologically they would be able to fly isn’t great date material. It might be if I could laugh and make jokes about it when I’m talking to these guys, but once they find out these are the things I actually think about, they are running in another direction. So, being smooth is not my strongest trait.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you’re ok. You renting for the summer?” he asked pointing at my cottage. I wished I was renting the cottage instead of only getting to live in paradise for a scant week.

  “No, unfortunately I only have a week here. Do you rent for the summer?” He looked out toward the waves. “I practically live here,” he answered. His eyes began to stare deeply into the shore, as if he was trying to puzzle out something that was on his lips but he couldn’t quite say. Just as quickly as it came it passed and he turned to look at me again, smiling in the moonlight. Truly he was incredibly good looking, even more so when I finally saw him close up. His eyes were not the blue of the ocean like I’d originally thought, but they were brighter, like something that was not of this world. His smile lit up his face and made the dimples in his cheeks deepen into something adorable yet also incredibly sexy. I had to look away from him, it was almost like looking into the sun, far too spectacular for anyone to look at for any length of time without permanently affecting them forever.

  Suddenly I stood, the heat from his body was consuming me and I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight. I needed to back away from whatever magnetic force that was continuing to draw me into him.

  “Well, I hope you have a nice night.” I started to follow my own footprints back to my cottage.

  “Alex Hammill,” he called after me.

  I turned back around in confusion and I saw him smile. “That’s my name,” he cleared up for me.

  “Oh,” God I felt like an idiot. “Katie Young,” I offered him.

  “Well, Katie Young, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He stood and brushed the sand off of him as he started to walk down the beach away from me.

  His words sounded like a promise instead of a farewell and something jolted through me. At the same time that I didn’t want to see him, for fear that my socially awkward ways would humiliate me forever, I hoped that I would see him again.

  Chapter 2

  I spent the night having wild dreams of my mystery beach man mixing with the fantasy world of my novel. Somehow he had been able to entwine himself into my thoughts and complicate the scenes I had planned to write. At dawn I gave up on the thought of a solid sleep and instead threw on shorts, running shoes, and tied my long blonde hair back into a pony tail. With so much work ahead of me I needed to clear my mind so I headed down the beach for a jog. I’d never been a particularly athletic person yet was always able to eat what I wanted and keep a skin
ny physique. It was a total blessing because I didn’t need to work for it. But when I started writing, I found my mind would sometimes get bogged down and I would need to clear out the thoughts whipping through me.

  Once I learned that running helped my mind, I started doing it all the time. I wasn’t good at it and often would huff-and-puff my way through, but it always worked. I learned quickly that running on sand was much tougher than the sidewalk running I was so used to so I felt like I was exhausted far earlier than I should have been. I was so focused on the simultaneous burning in my calves and chest that I must have missed the sound of footsteps coming up behind me.

  “So, you run?” His voice startled me but also soothed me at the same time.

  He strode up beside me and immediately I moved away from him slightly, putting a gap between us. He watched me out of the corner of his eye and I saw his lips tilt up in a smile.

  “I only run when I’m working,” I huffed out. If I had any will power at all I would have just ran faster and sped away, but that smile had just about knocked me over.

  He nodded and I’d hoped that was it but instead he asked me what I was working on. Ugh, I just had wanted to torture my body with a run on the beach to get my head cleared to write and with just a few lines from that deep voice I knew my mind would not be clear for the rest of the day. “I’m a writer actually, and I’m on a strict deadline so I should probably turn back around and get to work.”

  I did a prompt turn-around in the sand and started jogging back toward my cottage, but he turned around with me and kept running. It should have been flattering that this gorgeous stranger was so interested in me and wanted to talk with me and listen to me huff-and-puff my lungs away, but instead it just completely freaked me out. I had just about zero practice with gorgeous members of the opposite sex, especially ones in the chiseled shape that he was in. I was sure it was obvious what a fool I was going to make of myself, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to let me go that easily.