by Bri Clark
“No deal. You said face there was no mention of eyes, say what you have to say.” I held my lids firmly closed.
“All right,” he answered. My heart skipped a beat, curse him. He ran his fingers along my cheek, jaw and back making a circle, torturing me before he spoke.
“I stopped you because I knew that if you turned around and faced me that I might not be able to control myself. You obviously have no clue how much I want you. Which is a bit of a puzzle. Knowing you can sense me I thought you would have suspected.” He let out a little laugh and then a sigh.
“Will you not look at me?” he asked again. “I guess I will have to try harder. I have a bit of a riddle for you...” Sensing the smile upon his lips almost bought me out of my embarrassment. “I have been doing a lot of thinking today. I don’t know how to explain it or where to begin. I’m not fooling myself. Relationships are not my strength. I mean between Glazier and my job, or lifestyle. That’s sounds better suited. I have had…. opportunities…”
I snorted at that comment but kept my eyes closed. “But I never found myself even tempted. I just figured I wasn’t that kind of man. The kind of man who wanted to be committed that is.” He became quiet, as if reflecting on the comment. “But it seems I was mistaken. You see, Love; you blew that theory all to bits. When I met you, you totally uprooted my universe. You drive me crazy.”
I pouted. I make him crazy. That sounded awful. Laughing, he stroked his thumb along my bottom lip. I sighed. He moaned.
“Like now with your cheeks flushed, your rosy lips in a pout, and your skin a vanilla cream you’re simply too enticing. It becomes hard to restrain myself.” Lightly stroking my hair, he cleared his throat and withdrew his hand. “As I was saying…you came crashing like a shooting star through my false atmosphere. I have always prided myself on being Mr. In-Control, debonair if you will. But you keep catching me off guard. The irony is you don’t even realize it. You challenge me in every way, mentally, spiritually and physically.” As he spoke, his lips lightly brushed across my collarbone sending a shiver down my spine… my lips parted again as my breath caught and my heart just gave up. “Still nothing. You won’t give me a little peek?” he taunted. Squeezing my eyes tighter was my answer, and he chuckled.
“That’s a perfect example. You are entirely too stubborn. Just like me, only worse. I find I have a strange balance of patience and frustration when it comes to you. I was thinking about that today. You are my perfect match in every way, as if we were made from the same mold. I wouldn’t even call you a match. That doesn’t describe it. It’s as if you’re the center of my whole existence. I have this urge, this involuntary need to be near you and protect you. It torments me to not see you, most especially when I have to see Abram. I don’t want to overwhelm you with thoughts of a future. I am perfectly content to just be in your presence.” Sensing him as he spoke every word with a mixture of awe and honesty.
The end overtook me. I sat in stunned silence overwhelmed by his fragrance, his touch, and his words. However, it was when he said he was simply happy to be in my presence that broke me. It seemed too good to be true, like I was something special to him. Tears of joyful confusion spilled.
“Blimey sod, I knew I shouldn’t have done this,” he cursed and as the weight of the couch lessoned my eyes flew open. Before he could withdraw, he saw me, stopped, and grinned.
“It’s about blooming time. I have been dying to see those diamond eyes sparkle at me again. You shouldn’t use their power against me so…I can’t resist.”
I blinked, a few remaining tears escaped. Leaning down, he kissed each of them away. A deep burning need burst. It pulsated through my body and along my blood stream, flooding my head with flames.
My arms instinctively moved up his chest and wound around his neck. Finally, our lips met and I began my attack. He stopped all movement and held his breath, but I was determined. Then with passion as fierce as my own, he returned the assault. An urgent groan escaped his mouth, his hand wound up in my hair crushing my face to his.
Need for air forced us to break the kiss…only his lips simply changed course. They lit a path of flames down my neck and along my collarbone. I tried easing his coat off his shoulders but he reached up and ripped it clean off his body. After he found my mouth again, I met each of his kisses with the same ardor. I reached to unbutton his shirt but he halted my progress, gripping my hand instead. Then after breaking away with a tortured groan, he buried his face against the couch. I made a vain attempt to withdraw my hand instead; he held both my wrists above my head.
“What, Henry? Did I do something wrong?” I asked looking from my restrained hands to his hidden face.
He withdrew from the couch assuming the picture of tortured agony. “No Love, you are perfect, too perfect. It’s me…I… I can’t let myself do this to you.” Hearing his explanation brought a fire back but it wasn’t passion, it was fury.
“What! Do this to me?” I cried. So sudden was my anger that he was taken off guard. Untwisting my arm I pulled my legs up under his chest, and flipped him over the back of the couch. However, he didn’t let go of my arm and took me with him. After I landed on his chest, he huffed from the impact. I jumped up but he still held on to my wrist. As he tried to stand, I kicked his legs out from under him. We both fell to the floor again. That was it. I was beyond mad, I was furious.
“Just wait a second, let me explain, Love,” he implored.
“Love! Oh now I’m your love again when you see that I'm about to kick your butt. Five minutes ago, I was one of your little harlots you seduced and couldn’t let…UGH!” I tried jumping up, but he still had my arm in a steel tight grip that now ached. “If you don’t let go of my arm, I swear I will rip yours right from the socket.”
Still holding firm he raised his free hand palm forward as we faced each other. “Now just relax a blooming minute, Marie. Let me explain. I…”
“You can explain all you want. But I see everything. I am going to give you till the count of five to let go of my arm, Henry.” I warned.
“ONE,” I started.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“TWO.”
“You mean everything to me, I…” he tried again.
“THREE.”
“Would you please quit counting you’re making it hard to think? It’s hard enough to think clearly just looking at you.”
“FIVE!” I screamed. That was it, hard for him to think! As if I was some kind of villain, I punched him.
“OOOWWW. What happened to four?” With his grip even stronger, he spun me into his chest. When he tried to wrap his other arm around me to trap me in his grasp, my head whipped back, and I popped him right in the nose. Shouting in pain, he let go and I fell to the floor. I hadn’t expected him to drop me. Rolling to my left side, I couldn’t find any part of me that wasn’t hurting. My heart ached from rejection, my throat hurt from sobbing, and my eyes hurt from the tears.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I laid my head to the wood in defeat. Unconsciously rubbing the wrist he had held I closed my eyes to try and stop the traitor tears making their way to my eyes and down my cheeks.
He cursed once, twice then laughed. “I guess you were right about kicking my butt.” I didn’t respond.
“Marie? Love?” he asked sounding uncertain.
I didn’t even hear his footsteps; he was by my side in a flash.
“Did I hurt you? Is your side hurt, your leg?”
How did I tell him my pain went far beyond physical?
His hands were all over the place, unsure of where to put them then he stopped. Finally looking at my face he saw the tears. My world tilted as I found myself in his Herculean embrace. Covering me up with a blanket, he moved across the room to a chair. Unable to meet his gaze, I looked away.
Still refusing Glazier’s influence, I focused on control. Slow, steady breaths brought my aching heart to a manageable rhythm. I finally mustered up the courage to meet his eyes. Only they weren’t
there waiting as I anticipated. With his shoulders slumped and his face in his hand, they were hidden from me. That all too familiar need to soothe him took over. Crossing the room with light steps I bent down beside him and put my hand over his.
“Please explain, now.” I said it as calmly as I could muster.
“No, I am a horrible monster. I should have never let it go that far. It’s not you Lo…Marie.”
“Why did you correct yourself?”
“You were so mad when I called you that last time. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, and it seems the more I try to avoid it the better I am at it.” He exhaled, shaking his head.
“I like it, I liked it a lot. I was hurt…you rejected me…” Turning away I stood up. Unable to continue, I stared at the record player that was now silent. My fingers caressed the last place he had touched me…my aching wrist. Looming over me like the sun does the earth, he withdrew each of my fingers with a touch as light as a moth’s wings. Letting out a disgusted sigh, he caressed my skin. Purple and blue splotches began to appear on my wrist. After a step back, he folded his arms. Slumped shoulders ran parallel to his frown.
“This is what you are sighing about? I broke your nose; I made you BLEED! It’s not like you haven’t bruised me before.” I said touching the tip of his nose. He winced. Guilt washed over me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Me, too, Love.”
I smiled at use of my new name.
Kissing the top of my head, his arms encircled me and I found my place just above his heart. The quiet could only last so long.
“Henry, will you explain what you meant now?”
“I'll try.” He exhaled air across the top of my hair. “You see, make no mistake about it I want you. I need you. I care about you more than myself. I didn’t expect you to want me back.” He paused. “I just want ALL of you.”
“I don’t understand," I said into his chest. Feeling the deep intake of breath in his diaphragm and the ragged exhale before he answered, I waited.
“You have forgotten everything; I don’t want you to do something you might regret. I want you to want to be with me, all of you. How can you decide that if you can’t even remember who you are?”
Humbled by the depth of his love for me, I simply stared. Glazier was supposed to be my shield, but Henry was my true protector. If I had any water left in my body, I would have cried. Embracing him tighter I wanted so desperately to just melt into him.
“I….am….so….sorry…” I said attempting to apologize through the lump in my throat.
“I am sorry, too, Love.”
Outraged at his words, I sought his eyes. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
Unlocking my hands from behind his back, he lifted my bruised wrist up, eyeing my pointedly.
“Henry, at least you didn’t break anything.”
“Well I wouldn’t say you broke my nose. I have had worse.”
“This is my fault too, I should have behaved. Don’t feel guilty.” I begged. Smiling his best smile, he attempted to hide the guilt.
“Do you want to go back to the base?” he asked, the smile disappearing. Feeling the scowl draw my brows together I almost spat out the word.
“No.” His smile returned. “Why would I want to go back? Everything I have is right here with me.”
“So you want to stay?” He rubbed the back of his neck. That hand had been on my waist, and the area felt empty in its absence. Sensing his uncertainty and missing the lightheartedness we had previously enjoyed, I considered my options.
“I do want to stay here, but I have a condition.” I said while my smile could not be suppressed.
“What?” He grinned in return but his eyes didn’t hide his suspicion.
Finding courage from deep inside, I buried the resurfaced fears. “I want you to hold me all night.” The lightheartedness didn’t return. Something deeper, more sincere emerged. He scooped me up into his arms and kissed me gently before sitting us both on the couch.
“You are going to kill me slowly, but I promise,” he whispered. Smiling at the thought, I nestled deeper into him. He let out a contented sigh as he toyed with the end of my hair. An easy, natural rest overtook me.
A rest that only seemed to come when I was in his embrace.
Chapter Thirteen
Marie
In their quarters at the base
As Henry answered Abram’s latest summons, the familiar mixture of relief and agony flooded me. I held tight to the doorframe then hit my shoulder on the corner of the dresser as I made my way to the bathroom. Having just finished up a sparring session I needed a shower but it was the routine now anyway. That was what my life was with Henry, mechanical. We barely spoke and his shield was always up while my shield stayed down. It wasn’t as if he wanted to know how I felt. He had no interest in me anymore.
After we came back from the cabin, Henry had an abrupt personality change. He wasn’t even as he was before the cabin. Emotionless and frigidly professional was his personality of choice. How or why it happened was beyond me. All I knew was I awakened in my own bed at the base the morning after a supposed celebration to a different man. When I made a couple vain attempts to talk to him about what happened, he would either ignore me or change the subject. In the beginning, I was furious and took it out on him in training. That is until I took it too far.
Usually sparring with blades would have made me happy, but not on that day. I was seething mad and needed to vent. Lucky for me, my sparring partner was the cause of my misery. A wild woman was what I had become. I wouldn’t even call what I was doing sparing. It was flat out fighting. I threw everything I felt into the session, all the anger, the pain, and the rejection. I fought him as if he was killing me to tell the truth; that’s what it felt like. It was as if I hadn’t felt the beat of my own heart since the cabin; an empty void was now in its place. He defended himself and didn’t even launch an offensive. This made my fury boil inside me. The fact he wouldn’t even fight back only hurt me that much more. He didn’t care about me; I was just another trainee, a mere order to follow. Why did he even stay? That was the only reason, because Abram had ordered him to.
In my hurt and rage, I cut part of his right forearm. I gained the upper hand, coming down fast and lethal with my sword. He lifted his arm in a defensive position. I left a long gash from the underside of his elbow to the back of his hand. He didn’t even cry out. Instead he ripped his shirt off and covered the wound to stop the bleeding.
Unable to speak, much less apologize, I ran to our quarters where I hid in the shower and cried until the water was too cold for even a Glazier.
He didn't even bother to mention it when he got up early the next morning, his arm bandaged and a long sleeved shirt on. I became a zombie that day in order to cope and it was all downhill from there…living life going through the motions.
I rubbed my newest bruise where I had struck the dresser with my upper arm and finally made it to the bathroom. Turning on the water, I allowed the room to steam.
There were no more races for the shower nowadays. I undressed and climbed in, ready to start my self-induced torture. Starting out with the best of intentions, I would try to block out all the happy memories, the blissful moments, but somehow they would leak into my mind, all deceptively lovely and romantic. The flirting during the missions, the northern lights, our trips to the café, and then the cabin….always the highlight and torture all wrapped up in one neat memory. Sitting at my usual spot on the floor of the shower, the tears silently spilled from my face, and I waited for them to stop. Usually by the time the water ran cold, I was finally numb again.
****
Henry
After leaving Marie in their quarters
As I made my way to Abrams office, it was like walking with cinder blocks as shoes. It cut deeper than her blade had to leave her. Even worse was pretending as if I didn’t love her.
Love didn’t begin to touch it. She was the existence I never knew I needed. T
he night we shared at the cabin would be the pinnacle of my life. Nothing would ever compare to the unbridled joy I felt with her in my arms. Her beautiful diamond eyes gazing at me with nothing but trust…a trust I didn’t deserve. The slightest touch of her skin, her breath in my face, her unequivocal floral scent caused my heart to swell with joy. I have traveled all over the world, been to the most remote places, I can only compare her perfume to one thing: The Egyptian Lily. But even that pales in comparison. The irony of the flower and the woman is that the flowers petals were almost a dead match for her eyes. Just thinking about her, about our night, sent sparks through my body.
When she bloodied my nose, I wasn’t even mad…when she took off a piece of my arm, not an ounce of anger. The physical pain she inflicted couldn’t measure up to the emotional pain of not being able to love her. I hated having to deny her, to deny what I wanted so badly. But I loved her too much to take advantage of her. I would not risk her emotional or physical well being anymore. The plan was to wait for her to remember, but I would have to continue this cruel act. This was the character I would have to portray until I figured out what, if any, future there could be for us. Leaving her was never an option, order or not. Any future we could have depended on her memory. Even then, if she didn’t want me, there would be no one else. She was my perfect balance. She was my faultless mold, my contrast, my counterpoint. She could ground me and in the same instant make me fly.
