by Tenaya Jayne
Forest panicked. “Syrus, don’t!”
“No, Forest. We have to talk about it.”
Panic pressed down on her lungs, and she found it hard to breathe. She would not, could not tell him about Leith. And if they talked about what had happened between them, she feared it would come up because Leith was a part of it. If Syrus had felt even a fraction of what she had, he would want to be lovers. She couldn’t be his lover. She was someone else’s property.
“I…not yet…not now, okay? I’m not ready. Give me some time, please. We’ll talk about anything else.”
Syrus raised one eyebrow. “Leith?”
“Damn it, Syrus! Anything else! Not what happened earlier and not Leith! Why would you even ask about him?”
“Because of the way you reacted the other night when I mentioned you knowing him.”
Violent emotions bubbled inside her, and she turned to retreat to the house again. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
Syrus moved quickly and caught her by both arms. “I just can’t.”
Whatever it was that had happened earlier had caused a shift in the gravity. She felt the pulsing of his blood through his hands as he gripped her arms, and it seemed the magnetism between them had doubled, tripled even. Why was fate doing this to her? Syrus was shaking slightly again as he eased back from her, and she sighed in relief when he let go and took a step away.
“Just tell me something.”
“What?” she asked cautiously.
“Just something I don’t know about you. Something true.”
“My eyes are green,” she said.
“I already know that. Redge told me.”
Forest thought for a moment. He had told her something personal, and he wanted something personal in return. “My father named me. As far as I know, he has only seen me once: on the day I was born. My mother said that he held me a long time and that we looked into each other’s eyes. When he gave me back, he said that my name should be Forest, because that was what he saw in my eyes.”
“When this is all over,” Syrus said quietly. “I shall look in them myself.” He reached and took her hand. “Get lost in them.”
He began to pull her to him, but she put her hand on his chest, stopping him. “Look, we can’t do this,” she said firmly.
“Why?”
Forest could feel her mind spluttering. “Because we, because…because we have to keep our minds clear for the journey ahead. This, whatever this is, is a distraction neither of us can afford.” She pulled her hand out of his. “Don’t touch me anymore,” she ordered roughly.
“Fine,” he said in a clipped tone. Then he smirked, catching her off guard. “Don’t touch me anymore.”
“No problem.” Forest could hear the acid in her voice and was relieved that she could still serve it up to him. “I’m going inside. I’m cold and tired.”
Syrus didn’t follow her immediately inside but took his time putting the fire out. Forest threw her damp clothes on the bathroom floor and put on fleece pajamas and thick socks. When she came back and picked up her pile of wet clothes, intending to put them in the laundry, her heart skipped a beat. Her cell phone! She pulled it out of the pocket of her wet pants. It was dead.
When Syrus came in the house, he could hear Forest cursing a blue streak from her room and the whirring of one of her electronics. He was half way to her door, going to ask her what was wrong, when something loud crashed inside, and he thought better of it.
Forest was in hysterics over her phone and trying to dry it out with her hairdryer. Desperation will sometimes cause people to do things they know are asinine, yet they cannot seem to stop themselves from doing them, hoping for a miracle. Forest put the phone down once it was dry and began pacing around her room. She had to calm down.
An hour later, Forest sat on her bed, the comforter littered with clothes, weapons, and first aid items. She had been considering what were the most important things to pack for their journey. She was throwing clothes around, looking for her favorite hoodie when her phone gurgled up a weak beep letting her know that she had in fact received a message. Forest was cradling her phone in both hands pressing buttons gently, trying to coax it to deliver the message it received while she had been underwater.
“Please. Please. Please,” she whispered.
The little screen told her the time in London, the weather in Boston, and a factoid about Mount Rushmore before informing her that she had an email from Kindel. Forest held her breath. Some of the message was lost but the words that mattered most popped up. “Leave before first light.”
Forest sighed and then laughed, relieved. Her phone wouldn’t be any more use to her on the trip. She tried to call, tried to email Kindel. The phone refused to play along. Well, she had been chosen for the job because she knew the Wood better than any other operative, she reminded herself. She would just have to do without any other help from Kindel. She jumped up to tell Syrus they would be leaving in a matter of hours.
Syrus’ door was shut. He was listening to Cake's version of Mahna Mahna loudly. She laughed to herself as she heard him singing along, before knocking. The music shut off.
“Come in.”
Syrus sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with a slinky.
“I just got word from Kindel. We need to leave before dawn. So, that gives us about five hours. You should think about getting some sleep.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Well, I’m going to sleep once I finish packing. You need to do that too.”
“Hm. Yes. Do you have any more human clothes for me?” he asked.
“I’ll go down and find some.”
Forest was happy to find a new pullover that would fit Syrus, along with two other pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts. As she walked up the stairs, she remembered that they still had not figured out their cover story if they were captured, or how to change Syrus’ hairstyle.
“Here,” she said tersely, dumping the clothes on his bed. “Fix your hair. I’m going to finish packing, and then I’m going to sleep. So, leave me alone.”
Syrus grunted in response as she shut the door behind her.
Chapter 9
Kindel sat in the back of the high council chamber, wishing he had a stiff drink. It was a nightmare that had been going on for hours. Kindel kept his opinions to himself and let the rest of them shout. The high council allowed the low council in their beloved chamber, but the real problem, aside from the tantrums, was that the king and queen were there and they had thrown a wooden shoe into the machine. Kindel had considered discreetly recording the whole thing with his phone and sending it on to Forest, but as soon as the queen began speaking, he knew he would never even tell Forest half of what was said that day, as most of it was disparaging towards Forest herself. Kindel forced his mind to hum as things were said against Forest. If he even alluded to what he was thinking, it would cost him his job. And if he lost his job, Forest would lose hers as well.
“I want this mission aborted,” Queen Christiana said quietly as she addressed the council. “There is no call for this ill-conceived plan to continue any further. An entire platoon will be dispatched as soon as this meeting is adjourned to go and collect Prince Syrus and bring him back to the safety of the Onyx Castle. Scouts can be sent in search of this wizard, although I don’t see why he would be any more successful than Devonte has been in restoring my son’s sight. Syrus is the future king of Regia. He must be kept safe from Philippe, this backward befuddled organization, and social-climbing, bastard Halflings.”
Kindel watched King Zeren while the queen spoke. It was obvious the King did not agree with his wife, but he made no move to speak against her. The whole mission had been the King’s idea to begin with. Kindel was taken aback by the king’s passive resignation. No, he downright resented it. This was the first time Kindel had thought Zeren weak.
When Christiana finished and re-seated herself, the finger pointing and arguing began again. Finally, when the vehement council membe
rs had exhausted their vocal chords, the call for a full council vote was made. Kindel watched and voted that Forest be allowed to complete the mission with a few others. The majority voted against, and Kindel was forced to send Forest an “abort mission” email.
****
Forest made sure Syrus had everything he needed packed tightly in a Spiderman backpack. He wanted to use the pack he had brought with him, but he became enthusiastic about the backpack Forest gave him when she showed him all the handy little pockets. She transferred all the blood he brought into stainless steel sports bottles, and as an afterthought, made sure he had a flare gun and showed him how to use it. After she had packed, un-packed, and packed all his things, she was satisfied and bid him goodnight.
Forest retreated to her room and was just as conscientious packing her stuff as she had been with his. The looming danger had distracted her marvelously from her thoughts of Syrus’ mouth and how she wanted it on her own again. When she had stuffed the last pocket and zipped the last zipper, the lights went out, and Forest climbed into bed. She hovered on the edge of sleep, unable to fall into the abyss.
She ghosted through the darkness of her house to his room. Resting her forehead against the door, her hand caressed the knob. Did she dare turn it? The door eased open. He lay in bed, sitting up on his elbows, facing her. She hesitated.
“Come here,” he commanded in a whisper.
She pulled the cover up and slid beneath it into his arms. His lips brushed against hers, and she moved down, resting her head over his heart.
Forest eyes fluttered open in the dark. She’d been dreaming, alone in her bed, but she didn’t feel like she was alone at all. Forest sat up, and her breath caught. A silhouette stood in her doorway.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
“Hmmm? Dreaming? Maybe,” Syrus answered.
Forest got out of bed and walked over to him. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could see him now. He reached out for her, but she stopped just beyond his grasp. He sighed and let his arms fall back to his sides.
“Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“Yes and no.”
“Why are you standing in my doorway like a psychopath?”
Syrus turned his face away from her. “It’s you. You bother me. I can’t sleep. I lay in bed, and all I can hear is your breathing, your heartbeat. I can smell you. You’re driving me crazy. I’ve never met anyone who bothers me as much as you do.”
“Well. I don’t know what you think I can do about it?”
“Would you let me drink from you? You cannot imagine how badly I want to. I wouldn’t take much, I promise. And I’ll be very gentle. Please?”
Forest’s brow pulled down as she considered how to answer him. She wasn’t tempted to agree to his request, not in the slightest. However, the humble way he had asked her made her almost regret that she couldn’t allow it—almost. In any case, she wasn’t keen to suffer from the physical pain it would cause. She was almost certain that the second Syrus’ teeth broke through her skin her scars would scream as though they'd been injected with acid. On the other hand, his demure begging made her feel powerful and, though she would never admit it to herself, a little hot.
Forest sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t want you to have control over me,” she answered honestly.
“That wears off pretty quickly. I wouldn’t use it anyway. And it’s not actually control, more of a susceptibility to my suggestions and requests.”
“I don’t need any more scars. I have enough already, thanks.” she said in a clipped tone.
“Scars? My bite wouldn’t leave any scars. I’m not asking to mark you.”
Forest blushed, thankful he couldn’t see it. She forced herself to swallow. “I—umm—I don’t think—” she said slowly.
Syrus took a step back and held up his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”
Forest stood there woodenly. A dull ache spread through her heart. Syrus made her hate Leith more that she already did. She looked out her window at the sky. “Our time here is short now. Maybe we should just finish getting ready and take off.”
“Okay. Just one more thing before we leave though,” Syrus said.
“What?”
“Will you cut my hair?”
Forest’s mouth fell open. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Syrus perched on a barstool in the middle of the kitchen, a towel draped around his bare shoulders, while Forest got her hair scissors out of the bathroom cabinet. He was toying with the end of his braid, bemused. Was he really going to do this just for a chance to touch her again? Hell yes, he was.
When Forest came back into the kitchen, she felt acutely nervous. She hadn’t consciously realized how badly she wanted to touch his hair until then. Not only were they about to engage in something highly taboo in Regia, purposefully touching a vampire’s hair was considered an intimate action.
Forest laid her hand gently on his shoulder. “Now you’re sure? Totally sure?”
Syrus chuckled. “I’m nervous enough as it is, Forest. You don’t have to make it worse.”
“Just say it again, please.”
“Do it.”
Forest put the scissors in the pocket of her jeans and reached to remove the metal clasp at the base of his braid. Her hands shook. She clenched them together and took a deep breath. There was nothing personal in this action, she reminded herself. As soon as the clasp was loose, she began unwinding the intricate lacing of his hair. A shiver rolled through her as the hair ran in between her fingers like silk spun from shadows. She almost couldn’t bring herself to cut it. She had been unconsciously running her fingers through it, mesmerized how the light slid along the shaft.
Syrus’ whole body covered in goose bumps. His fingers dug into his knees. “Forest,” his voice was husky. “Please.”
Forest shook herself and pulled out the scissors. “Sorry.”
She knew the only way she was going to get through this was to just do it quickly. She grabbed a large handful of hair and wacked it off just under his ear. She didn’t let it fall on the floor; she laid it gently on the counter. It didn’t take long before it was all short and she was evening it up. Forest shook the towel he’d been draped with while he ran his hands through his hair. Forest figured that he would have some plan for the hair she’d cut off, but when she looked down at it she was seized with possessive desire. “Syrus, may I keep your hair?”
He turned and faced her. He looked fantastic with short hair. “Why would you want it?” he asked.
“I don’t really know,” she answered honestly. “I just do. I promise to keep it safe.”
Syrus crossed his arms over his chest. He looked annoyed. “Tell you what,” he said slowly, “I’ll sell it to you.”
Forest’s stomach tightened. “What’s your price?”
“I want…”
Forest held her breath unsure what she would, or wouldn’t, refuse.
“Let me touch your face,” he said quietly.
Forest exhaled. “My face?”
“So I can know what you look like.”
“Syrus, have you forgotten I’m a shifter? My appearance changes with my whims.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I just want a mental image of you, even if it’s wrong.”
She had no idea that he was lying, that he already had a mental image of her, and that it was artifice so he could get his hands on her again.
“All right.”
Syrus moved toward her slowly, but in such a way that had her backing up until her butt hit the edge of the counter. She thought about how she looked at that moment and decided to make a little change before he touched her. She had to stifle the giggle in her throat as she quickly enlarged her forehead and nose so that she looked grotesquely bizarre.
He raised both of his hands and lightly touched both of her cheeks. Forest’s eyes widened as she felt her head and nose shrink back down without her consent. His fingertips ra
n along the length of her eyebrows, down the edge of her ears, the length of her jaw. She should not have allowed this, she realized violently. Forest closed her eyes as his fingers skimmed her eyelashes. She began to shiver. When his thumb ran over her bottom lip Forest had to grab the counter for support.
“You’re beautiful, Forest,” he whispered.
He cupped her face with both his hands again as though he meant to kiss her, and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes reflected like silver mirrors. All the color drained from Forest's face. A small, strangled gasp escaped her throat. She pushed him roughly away, sprinting to her room.
“Forest?” he called after her.
She locked the door behind her and slid down it to the floor. Now she knew, now she understood. In the reflection of his dead eyes, she saw her true form. Syrus was her destined life mate. Everything that had happened between them made sense now. They had bonded the second they had kissed, but their connection was incomplete and out of order. Had he not been blind, their first and strongest connection would have been made the second they had made their first eye contact.
Syrus knocked lightly on her door. “Forest? Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I just need a minute to myself. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay.”
Forest held her head in her hands. What was she going to do?
Well she knew one thing she was not going to do. She was not going to tell Syrus. He might suspect it given that they had forged one connection already. Forest could have kicked herself for that, but she couldn’t deny that she had wanted to kiss him. She thought about the stories she knew about people who had rejected their life mates and the ramifications of that decision. There were other stories of those who had made eye contact with their life mates, like in a crowd, and because of circumstances, had never been able to meet each other. The stories always talked of the pain that was involved. Well, Forest would just have to deal with it. Pain was her daily companion. She was used to it.
