“Laima apologizes for the cold introduction. She dedicated the song to you because you’re special.”
“Me? Why does she think that?” Sarma pointed to her chest taken aback. Marita glanced back at Laima. The song sounded intense and sad.
“She’s a healer, and she sees things in people. She heals with herbs, talismans, tinctures—that kind of stuff. She says you have light in your eyes, in your soul.”
Laima smiled at Sarma who chewed on her upper lip. Murkiness that followed her everywhere eclipsed any light within.
“She senses you’re lonely. She says she’ll be your friend. You can come to her house near Liepaja any time. You have beautiful hair, and she wants to braid it.”
Sarma was lonely. Lonely and confused.
“Well, I’m going home to my boyfriend soon.” Sarma lied and forced a smile. She didn’t need a stranger feeling sorry for her.
Laima stared out at the trees then shifted her focused attention back to Sarma. Marita hesitated before continuing the translating.
“What's up, Marita?” Sarma's shoulder began to ache.
“She said . . . maybe he isn't the one for you.” Marita’s eyes questioned her. Seemed like the lady had figured out that Sarma fibbed.
Sarma twirled a tall blade of grass in her fingers, weakness creeping through her. How could this woman know anything about her?
“She asks again if she can braid your hair. It sounds strange to you, but she can sense how uneasy you are. It is relaxing,” Lilija interjected.
Sarma consented. It was strange. How old could she be? She had the aura of a crone, but her pale, smooth skin radiated a youthful glow. Her green eyes exuded trust and warmth. When she smiled, her eyes beamed as well.
Sarma sat down with Laima behind her. A comb gently grazed her scalp and detangled her hair. Goose bumps spread over Sarma's skin, and she closed her eyes. The tension in her body melted away. She floated into a peaceful doze while Laima's gentle hands formed two braids. Laima arced the braids over her head, pinned them, and then replaced her flower wreath.
“I can tell she’s is a healer. I feel so calm now.” Sarma opened her eyes. There were smiles, but no one understood what Sarma had said. Lilija, her interpreter, was no longer at the campsite.
Marita flirted with a guy they’d seen by the stage area and returned when the braiding was done. “I'm going for a walk with my new friend. Maybe we’ll find the magic fern flower.” Marita laughed.
“What about me? You’re not leaving me, are you? I barely speak the language.” Sarma stood up.
Laima seemed to sense the tension between them and walked away.
“Midsummer is for finding the fern flower with a guy. You know what I mean.” Marita flicked her eyebrows and grinned.
“You can't be serious. You’re ditching me?”
“I’ll be back soon.” Marita winked.
“What about Francis?” Sarma said in a last desperate attempt to keep Marita from abandoning her.
“Relax. We aren't exactly together right now. I broke it off before the trip.” Marita giggled.
“So, you’re just going to leave? Some friend.” She glanced around the campfire. Everyone had left.
“If you really want me to stay—”
“Whatever. Just go then.” Sarma crossed her arms and sat down by the fire. Marita walked away laughing and chatting in Latvian with the guy.
Sarma sat by the fire staring off in the direction Marita had gone. So annoying. It was highly unlikely she’d come back. The sun began its decent. Laima didn't return, neither did Erika nor anyone else. Janis took off with his girlfriend, probably to find this fern bud himself. Sarma would laugh at the euphemism, but Laima’s words cut through her.
She was alone.
She headed toward the beach and plunked down against a pine tree. Her chest felt hollow. She covered her eyes with her opened hands as tears slipped down her cheeks smearing her black eyeliner. She didn't care. Who would see her? She felt utterly abandoned. Marita was supposed to be family. Back at home, she had no other friends. Gunita had never been there for her. Her father died suddenly when she was four. Whenever Sarma asked about his death, Gunita would reply, “Let’s talk about pleasant things.” What had happened to him?
Maybe Laima had a point. Maybe she’d always been with Derek for the wrong reasons. Loneliness? Not a good rationale. Familiarity? Strike that. Success and a big house? She grew up in a small apartment and learned to live simply.
At one point, she had felt something for him. But love? The sex was average, and at first, she had a lot of fun with him. Truth be told, she was one hundred percent sure she was never actually in love with him.
Tears blurred her eyes, and puffed her face. With no tissue, she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Spreading out at the base of the tree, she cradled herself between gnarled roots that jutted out of the white sand. The sea waves sparkled with hints of silver and red hues from the sinking sun. If she didn't feel so wretched, she’d relish one of the most gorgeous places she’d ever visited. But to her, everything was enveloped in gloominess.
Happy voices sang folk songs in the distance, magnifying her loneliness. As she lay there, the moon rose over the sea in the vaguely faded night sky. Had the family returned to the campsite? They were probably worried by now, but she didn’t care. Everyone let her down. Being alone didn't make her feel alone. People did. People and the horrible ways they acted. She pulled herself upright against the tree again.
Light footsteps plodded toward her. She hoped to hell Andis hadn't found her again. She would flip out if he did, maybe even get Erika to call the police. She glanced up in the direction of the footsteps. Her body tensed, then froze.
Chapter 10
When Reinis eyed Sirsniņa tucked into a ball against a tree, his pulse quickened. Assignment. Stick to duty.
“Damn it!” she barked, angling away from him.
Sensing her lull of sadness, he was filled with a vacant dread knowing what he had to do. As if she’d been crying, she wiped under her eyes.
“Hey,” he said, still struck by her beauty. “I saw you at the club the other night. Remember?” His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He’d fed earlier so blood hunger wouldn’t knock him off balance.
Sirsniņa faced the sea as if ignoring him. He wished to give her what she wanted—solitude—but his coven came before both of them.
“This beach is too big for one person.” He sat without her reply.
“I'm not in the mood for company,” Sarma griped.
“No one spends Midsummer alone.” He laughed and didn’t leave.
She scooted away. He wanted to draw near. Body against body, lips against lips. She’s an obligation. Human. He repeated the words in his head to obliterate his attraction.
“It's better that way. People let you down,” Sarma blurted.
“I know what you mean. That's why I'm alone, too.” The truth and a lie at the same time. Everything she said hit home. Stretching out his long legs, he didn’t care that the sand dirtied his jeans. His tight jaw relaxed—the opposite of what he anticipated. Despite the grimace on her face, her slight sexual aroma spelled attraction.
His duty was to persuade her to have sex but found he didn't want to. Desire wasn’t the problem. This time, he wanted to do things differently. He wanted their feelings to be mutual. He wanted the impossible. The memory of their kiss made it harder to focus. He grimaced inwardly and sadness washed over him. An exchange only he remembered.
“I only wanted to say hi. But, I’ll leave you alone if you like.” He pushed off the ground to rise. In the corner of his eye, he noticed her eyes grow wide with his swift movement, but he pretended he didn’t see her reaction.
“No, please stay. It’s been a weird few days. I feel like I’m being followed. Strangers have warned me to be careful. My friend doesn’t believe me. In fact, she wandered off, abandoning me.” She hesitated before continuing. “This is a perfect example. You were at the club, an
d suddenly you're here.” She crossed her arms and brought her knees to her chest.
“You look cold. You want my jacket?” He slipped his arm out of a sleeve. He read the image of Andis and Ilze as it crossed her mind, confirming their presence and reminding him of his task. At least they annoyed her. Still, he didn’t like causing her confusion and upset.
“No, thanks.” She shivered. “Not to be rude, but you didn’t strike me as very friendly the last time we met.”
“You’re right. Not your fault. A lot is happening in my life right now. Not the best night for me,” he paused, surprised how easy it was to open up to her.
“I understand. I have a lot going on, too.”
He tried to hand her the jacket, but she gently pushed it away. “I’m fine, really.”
She glanced up, meeting his gaze for a moment. Her eyes were insecure but arresting. Even with her sadness, he sensed the warmth snake through her body when their eyes met. Guilt ran through him. Maintaining distance felt brutal, like walking a tight wire over a chasm. The trouble? He wanted to freefall, be enthralled by the descent into her.
“I saw your friend. I don't think she noticed me, though.”
“How do you know who my friend is?” Sarma raised her eyebrows.
“The club. Remember?” He cocked one eyebrow. On the outside, she fought him, but he sensed the buildup between her legs.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” She studied her hand and, as if sweaty, wiped her palms on her pants. Dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt—she could wear anything and shine—he sat next to her and read her mind. She thought of him every day. If only he were capable of knowing her thoughts from a distance, he would have found her earlier. His heart raced. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t steady it. Task, Reinis. She’s a task.
“I shouldn't have told you. I don't want to make your night worse.” He didn’t like the tension seeping from her pores or her anger toward Ilze and Andis. If she knew he followed her for the same reason, it would be the end of the conversation.
“Worse? I really don't know how it could get worse. And how would you know how my night’s going?”
“It’s kind of obvious,” he muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your friend took off with a guy. You didn't look very happy.” He let the flirtation disappear from his expression. “In fact, you seemed devastated.”
“You're a creep. You've been spying on me,” Sarma exclaimed. She sprang up and dusted off her clothes. “Do you even know what creep means?” Sarma asked coolly.
“My English is good enough to know you are insulting me. I'm sorry I creeped you. See, I know what it means.”
“Sort of—you should have said, ‘I’m sorry I creeped you out.’” Despite her sharp tone, he could tell he amused her.
“I’ll be honest. I am interested in you.” With his statement, the tension between them bloomed like a magnolia in late winter. Like her scent, soft and sweet. Her pulse surged and not because he annoyed her. “But I can tell you’re uncomfortable, so I won’t bother you any longer.”
With a sigh, she plunked down next to him.
“That doesn't explain a thing. I’ve seen several people from Riga here today. It makes me crazy.” She rubbed her arms. Beneath her t-shirt, her nipples hardened.
“Lots of people come here for Jani.”
“So what was my friend doing?”
“Who?”
“My friend. The one from the club. You said you saw her.”
“They found the blooming fern flower if you know what I mean.” He laughed to get his mind away from wanting to rip off her clothes. “Yeah, in the forest on my way here. It was an accident. See, I’m not that bad.”
He removed his jacket, scrunched it into a pillow, and settled his head on the roots of the tree. His eyes traced along the branches of the pine tree above. Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes to collect himself. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would drive him insane.
This is the most important task of your life, Reinis.
“Oh, yes, they told me what the fern flower means,” Sarma said, sarcastically.
In the light of the moon and the dim sky, her eyes traveled over him up and down again. Her musky scent of arousal drifted into his nose, and he became rock hard. Her body ripened with each passing moment. His incisors grew, and he ached to pierce her flesh, but he resisted the impulse. It was torture to be so erect and not be able to feed. He retracted his teeth.
Scanning her face again, he noted the brisk evening made her nose drip. He handed her a cotton handkerchief from his jacket pocket and held back a smile while she wiped her nose with it. He could watch her all night, even if it was to see her nose drip.
“Oops, I just dirtied your nice handkerchief.” She laughed for the first time.
“You can do that again if you want . . . laugh, I mean. Or dirty my handkerchief. You have such a pretty smile. Even in the dim of night, I can see the fire in your eyes.” He grazed her hand. In another circumstance, the compliment would be programming, but not now.
“Well, if you're going to waste the jacket, you might as well give it to me. You're not cold?”
Reinis shook his head. Finally, she accepted his offer. The tension between them became taut. He enjoyed this entirely too much. Hating the sincerity in his act and that she would cover her perky breasts, he shook it off and passed it to her. He lay back down with his head on the root with a small smile curled on his lips.
“You didn't explain how you ended up in Salacgriva . . . and with me,” Sarma murmured.
“You want the tree? It's comfortable.” Heat ripped through her body and leapt to him. Sitting up, he stared at her. She was a princess with two braids crowning her head. He burned to lean in close and kiss her full lips.
“No, thanks. You didn't answer my question.” She stared at him as if transfixed.
He didn’t answer her question—for good reason. Sirsniņa was a bestower, and he reveled in this moment. He had zero desire to manipulate her into feeling safe. Floored by his own emotions, he wanted her to feel good out of intrinsic care. Still, he couldn’t reveal the whole truth. Guilt stung him like a swarm of enraged hornets.
“Salacgriva is a popular place. And if you haven't noticed, Latvia is a small country. You heard how many visitors are here.” He turned on his side, propping himself up on the soft pine needles and sand beneath him.
“Now explain why you watched me.”
“Only if you tell me who followed you here.”
“Why do you care who followed me?”
With the curl of his lips, he sensed a rush of moisture and a spike of her scent intoxicated him. She wanted to kiss him, to know what he looked like under his shirt, and caress him. In any other circumstance, he would have seduced the clothes right off of her, but the emptiness in her chest held him back. He wanted her physical desire and her emotions to fit together. Reinis didn’t want her pulled in two directions like he was. Loneliness ate at her. She didn’t know if it was right to sleep with a total stranger. The weight of it burdened her—like the pressure of his coven’s laws hung over him. He wanted to make her forget that heaviness.
“Second time I have to apologize. I didn't mean to upset you.” Controlling his facial expression to remain calm, he sat up and leaned toward her. He never apologized to anyone. Now he said it twice to her in one night. His lips tingled with desire as he glanced down at her mouth.
“Are you always this polite?” She shifted closer to him as well, nonchalantly glancing at the tent in his jeans that hadn’t died down.
“I never met a girl like you, so I wouldn't know.” Self-reproach ate at him. He was cordial because he cared, but also, it was the best way to get to her. Why did he have to do this to her? “So who’s following you?”
“You don’t let up! If you must know, some people I met in Jurmala. I see them everywhere I go. It creeps me out.” She smiled slightly remembering his earlier misuse of the phra
se. “Why?”
He traced a small circle on her hand, but she moved it away. “Just curious,” he replied, his voice saturated with need. Heat pooled in his loins.
“Where's your girlfriend?”
“My girlfriend?”
“Yeah, the bit—you know, the woman you were with at the club.”
“Velta? She's not my girlfriend.” He closed his eyes, enjoying her touch. The sensation remained on his fingertips after she removed her hand.
“She sure acted like it.” She pulled the jacket in close again.
“I see I’m not the only one who’s been watching. I’ve been watched as well.” His laughter, genuine and full, resonated out of his chest and throat.
“Are you Latvian? How did you learn to speak English so well?”
“Your turn to change the subject.” He laughed again. “My name is Reinis Ozols. Couldn't get more Latvian than that.” He sat up and shook her hand. “As for my English, I've been to the United States several times.”
“Where?” she asked quickly.
He gazed at her longingly. They talked of nothing and felt everything. Her emotions and fragrance were palpable, intoxicating him, pushing him to the edge. Again, he fought to keep his teeth from extending.
“Chicago, San Francisco, New York.” He didn't blink.
They both fell into silence. Distant laughter rode the light breeze.
“You didn’t tell me your name.” The thud of his heartbeat pounded in his sternum. Blood pulsed through his veins. He failed miserably at his usual ice-cold detachment, his emotions reacted to her. At this moment, he didn't care that she was human or that he could ruin his chance to save his species. He took her hand in his.
She didn't glance away or move her hand from his.
“Sarma. I’m from San Francisco.” She exhaled heavily.
“Sarma. Beautiful name. Did you know it translates to ‘hoarfrost’—those lovely ice crystals that decorate the plants in the morning?” He smiled with a spark in his eyes. Reinis ached to be inside her, to embrace her bare breasts against his chest.
Forbidden Darkness (Immortal Desire Series Book 1) Page 7
