by A C Warneke
“Hell,” he continued. “I have replaced entire lifetimes of memories; it’s how we remain hidden and why no one knows of us.”
Moisture welled up in her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away before he could turn around and see that his words had made her cry. “Is that why were you so eager to throw me away?”
“You don’t understand,” he quickly turned and crossed the room to stand before her, framing her face with his hands and holding her gaze with his own. Emotions raged in his eyes and she wanted to look away but she couldn’t. “I had warred with myself for weeks, Malorie, trying to stay away from you and failing so I had to send you away.”
“You didn’t have to,” she whispered, the tears slipping down her cheeks as she placed her hands over his. “I would have stayed and given you everything.”
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he laughed darkly and without humor, his fingers tightening briefly as he struggled with his thoughts. “I can’t afford to appear weak before my people and around you I am nothing but weak. You have so much power over me, Malorie.”
Her heart flipped over in her chest at the strength of his conviction and she lowered her lashes, keeping her eyes trained on the perfect curve his sensuous lower lip. “I would have remembered you even if you hadn’t changed my memories.”
“I just wanted you to be happy,” he whispered, swallowing thickly, resting his forehead against hers, pain filling his gaze.
“You know nothing about my life,” she said, her voice as quiet and reflective as his. “How could you have even known that my life was less than what it appeared the day you found me at the mall?”
“I shared your memories, on the cliff overlooking the ocean and before….” Moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, his gaze dipped down to her midsection before hastily returning. Tenderly, he added, “And I saw the scars, Malorie.”
“What scars….” She froze, remembering. Her eyes widened in her head as she struggled to free herself from his grasp. He let her go easily and she pulled the hem of her shirt up to expose the smooth, unscarred planes of her belly. Her eyes went to him, accusation and anger burning bright, “How could you take away my scars? Why would you do that?”
“I wanted to take away your pain,” he confessed, his hands dropping to his sides as he simply stared at her, looking hopeless and bleak.
“They weren’t yours to take away!” she pressed her hand against the non-existent scars, forgetting for the moment that she had hated those scars and had wished them gone a thousand times. Irrationally, she demanded, “Put them back!”
“I cannot,” he shook his head, taking a step towards her. At her glare, he halted even as he tracked her every movement with his eyes. “I only wanted you to be happy.”
She couldn’t even look at him, loving him and despising him in fairly equal measure. The worst part was knowing that she was even angrier with herself than she was with him. He had tried to make her happy, even if he had gone about it in a fucked up way, but the memories she had missed the most were the memories she had of him. As angry and hurt as she was, she still hungered for his touch, his embrace; she wasn’t complete without him and yet she didn’t trust him. And her head was pounding and she was going to crash.
“Malorie.” His voice whispering her name was a dagger to her chest.
“I’m so tired,” she murmured, rubbing her temples. The lateness of the hour, the nights of barely sleeping, the unexpected pregnancy, were catching up to her. She had taken just about all she could take and her brain was shutting down; she was shutting down. Crumbling into the chair, she slowly shook her head, “I’m just so tired.”
“Get some sleep,” he murmured, always giving orders. Silently, he had moved across the room and was kneeling in front of her; soul-deep love and regret burned in his eyes as he looked up into her face. His broad hands came down on her knees and he gently massaged the tense muscles of her legs. Leaning forward, his breath moving across the delicate shell of her ear, he whispered, “I’ll be here in the morning.”
“Feryn….” He gathered her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. It was the most natural act to wrap her arms around his neck and bury her nose against his throat and drink deeply of his familiar, masculine scent. The memories quieted as he held her, giving her a moment of peace as the world shattered around her.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” his chest rumbled as he spoke and she could hear the torment in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Suddenly, it didn’t matter that she was hurt and confused; she didn’t want him to leave; she couldn’t lose him again when he had consumed her thoughts when he hadn’t been real. Swallowing her pride, at least for the night, she tilted her head back and whispered, “Stay.”
He closed his eyes and a radiant expression softened the harsh planes of his face before he smiled and looked at her. Standing up with her still in his arms, he carried her over to the bed, kicking off his shoes before gently laying her down and carefully lying down next to her. Pulling the blankets over their clothed forms, he held his arm out and she pressed her body against his, the terrifying sense of rightness taking her breath away.
As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt the strain of the last few weeks simply melt away and she let her eyes close. His strong and steady heart beat was a balm to her wounded soul and she was safe.
She was home.
****
As the sun was rising over the horizon, she opened her eyes and saw Feryn watching her with inscrutable green eyes and she wasn’t sure he slept at all. She had almost expected to wake up in the morning and have Feryn be a dream and the joy she felt upon seeing him in her bed both thrilled her and terrified her. But he was looking at her as if he were a stranger…. Bewilderment turned the corners of her mouth down as she murmured, “You’re still here.”
“Of course I am,” he said. The passion that had burned in his eyes during the middle of the night had been banked and she felt a chill wrap itself around her. His voice was dispassionate as he said, “We have much to discuss.”
She desperately needed to get away from him and the hurt that his change of attitude was having on her. Last night he had given her hope that they might have a future together; this morning, he was once again the remote, arrogant Aradian, so far above her as to be ridiculous. Clamoring out bed, she walked towards the bathroom to escape him and the feelings he evoked without even trying. Barely looking at him, she grumbled, “Give me ten minutes to take a shower and clear the sleep from my brain; I need to clear my head before I can even look at you.”
She practically spat the last word and he grimaced at the anger lacing her voice. But his voice was cool as he told her, “I’m going to make arrangements for Toby.”
She froze, spinning around so fast she almost lost her balance and tipped over. Her hand shot out to brace herself against the wall and in a low, fierce growl, she went into protective mama-mode, “You are not taking my son from me.”
Bewilderment contorted his features for a moment before he shook his head, “Of course not; I was going to have Jiro take him for an extended fishing trip so you and I could talk without interruptions.” He held up his hands in surrender, “I promise, he will be not be taken from you; Jiro will simply keep him for a few days.”
When she continued to watch him with all of the wariness of a cornered wildcat, he lowered his voice, “Don’t you think it would be better if Toby weren’t around to overhear what will probably be said? There will probably be yelling and… strong language.”
She nodded slowly and the wariness eased a bit though she remained watchful. “Fine; you’re right. It’s probably best if Toby is not here when we… talk.”
Without bothering to wait for a reply, Malorie went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. What had happened to the man who had appeared last night, ready to fight dragons to be with her? Leaning her head against the cool door, she let the tears fall free
ly, unable to live with the cold, hard man out there, unable to be without the warm, loving man she knew he was.
Less than an hour later, Malorie was hugging Toby, who was far more excited for the fishing trip than she was. He was also far more eager to get going than Malorie was to see him go. She looked up at Jiro as he stood in the doorway, the diamonds and bleached hair still absent. It was strangely disconcerting to have her two worlds come together: her reality and the illusion Feryn had created for her.
“How did he convince you to change your appearance and waste your time watching over us?” she asked, gesturing with her hand towards the tailored brown hair and lack of diamonds. “I mean, I’m sure you had better things to do.”
“My brother asked and I obliged,” he bowed his head in a manner so similar to Feryn’s.
“You couldn’t stand being around me,” she reminded him. “I remember how you acted, the words you said. In fact, I’m pretty sure you hated me.”
“Of course I hated you,” he answered simply. At her gasp of outrage, his eyes sparkled as he took her chin in his hand. “If a Breeder can make an Aradian fall in love, what else is she capable of?”
“How absurd,” she said, jerking her chin out of Jiro’s grasp, unable to bear his pity. Busying her hands with straightening Toby’s jacket, she grumbled, “He’s a powerful Aradian; I’m merely… me.”
“Don’t underestimate your attraction,” Jiro murmured. She looked up and met his eyes, nearly forgetting how to breathe at the turbulence gleaming in the silver-green depths. “Just don’t… don’t break his heart.”
“What an extraordinarily human thing to say,” she said with a trace of wonder.
“The desire to love and be loved is not a strictly human endeavor, love,” With a mocking smile on his lips, he drew his finger along her cheek and added, “It is just something with which we Aradians have little experience; go easy on him.”
Her lips curled up in a wry smile; who was going to go easy on her? Unable to speak, she bent down and wrapped her arms around Toby one more time, “Be safe?”
“Always,” Toby smiled, kissing her cheek, eager to leave and spread his wing a bit.
Looking up at Jiro, her voice was rough, thick, and her eyes welled with tears she swore she wasn’t going to shed. “Swear to me that you will keep him safe,”
“Of course I will,” he vowed without a hint of irony. “Swear to me that you’ll give Feryn a chance?”
She shook her head and reluctantly smiled, “If he’s willing to take it.”
As soon as her son left with Jiro, she wandered out to the living room where Feryn was waiting for her. She sat down on the chair across from him, the caution not leaving her face as she boldly met his gaze. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and her face was scrubbed clean; she felt impossibly young and unsophisticated next to Feryn in his expensive Italian suit, his black hair falling to his sculpted shoulders. He sat there as cool and self-contained as she was frazzled and nervous.
It didn’t help that her stomach was rebelling and she was barely able to keep anything down that morning. It was manageable when she had to worry about keeping up appearances in front of Toby but now that her son was gone, she was going to throw up. Her eyes flittered to Feryn but he was just watching her with that dispassionate gaze of his and she had no idea what he was thinking, what he was plotting.
Jiro said to give him a chance; how was she to do that when he sat there looking as uninterested in her as he would be an insect? At the thoughts of insects, her stomach finally revolted and she had to cover her mouth with her hand. “Excuse me.”
She bolted for the bathroom, barely making it in time. Kneeling on the floor, her hair plastered to her sweat-dampened face, she laughed at herself. Of course Feryn was back; he wanted a child. It wasn’t about her at all, it was about the baby; his baby. Sitting on her butt, she leaned the back of her head against the cool wall, needing to take a moment to find the strength that had gotten her through her childhood, the wars. The loss of Jack.
She’d survive Feryn.
“Are you pregnant?” he asked. She opened her eyes and tilted her head to the side to see him standing in the doorway, his expression… anxious. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Are you?”
She nodded once, disheartened and exhausted.
His jaw tightened and he did that expansion thing, sucking the air out of the enclosed space and taking up all of the oxygen. “Is it mine?”
She laughed a little insanely, “Go to Hell.”
He came in and filled a glass of water before sitting on the floor next to her. Holding the cup to her lips, he had her drink the water to rinse her mouth. His voice was low, solemn, as he murmured, “I don’t know how any of this is happening, Malorie; it doesn’t make any sense.”
“We had unprotected sex; it’s the same way I got pregnant with Toby.” She huffed out a breath, “You would think I would have learned by now.”
“There is no way you should have gotten pregnant,” he explained after a few minutes of contemplation, even more perplexed than she was. She would have thought he understood the basic principles of creating babies…. “I removed my mark and I didn’t ejaculate inside of you.”
“I remember,” she stared at the toilet instead of looking at him and remembering and wanting and…. “But pulling out is not an effective….”
“It is for Aradians,” he contradicted before she had a chance to finish her sentence. “I did not will viable sperm so my orgasm was sterile and, more importantly, you are unmarked. None of this makes sense.”
Licking her lips, her eyes over filling with tears, she whispered, “Do you love me?”
He looked at her, simply looked at her and she could feel her heart cracking in her chest. Jiro obviously didn’t know what he was talking about and why was she even blubbering over any of this? She knew what he was, knew how he viewed anyone not an Aradian; hell, he didn’t even know the name of his son’s mother.
Wiping her eyes, she laughed as she pushed herself to her feet; stupid hormones, making her a weeping basket case. This wasn’t who she was; she didn’t get emotional, she soldiered on. “Never mind that I asked; I should have known better….”
He was standing in front of her, cupping her face in his hands, “I love you but I am not comfortable with it; it overwhelms me.”
“Because I am a mere human,” she sneered, rolling her eyes. “A Breeder.”
“Because it is not something an Aradian has ever experienced,” he said instead. “You can’t understand because you have only lived for twenty-five years; you have known love in your brief life; I am new to all of this.”
“You loved your son,” she whispered.
“He was my flesh and blood,” he shook his head, as baffled and lost as she was. “It is similar to the love I have for my brother. Loving you… loving you terrifies me.”
“So your solution was to end it before it even had a chance?”
“It would have been less complicated,” he admitted. “Loving you changes everything, Malorie; don’t you see that?”
The corners of her mouth curved upwards and she shook her head no, “I don’t.”
“What can I do to show you, to help you understand?” The color drained from his face even as he asked the question. He knew what she was going to ask a heartbeat before she did but he did not hesitate to agree. Lowering his voice, he took her hands in his, “Make love to me at the same time; let me show you everything.”
Watching him, trying to determine how sincere he was, her own doubts raced through her head. Did she truly want to see how he felt about her? No matter what, she was forever bound to him, whether she wore his mark or not; if she didn’t do this, she would always wonder.
She took a deep breath before she slid her hand into his; after this everything was going to change. Holding his eyes, she murmured, “This isn’t a good idea.”
“I disagree,” he purred. “It’s a very good idea.”
H
e led her up the stairs to her bedroom door where she paused. When he looked at her, a question on his face, she shook her head, “Not in my bedroom.”
Acquiescing, he nodded and led her to one of the guest rooms. It was done up in pale green and gold and the bed was large, as were all of the beds in the house. She realized that it was how she would have decorated it had she been given the chance; it had been done with her in mind. The entire house had been designed for her pleasure, her happiness. The only thing missing had been him.
As soon as they were through the door, she pulled her hand from his and walked away, twisting her fingers together. She kept her eyes on the bed, absurdly nervous as she was about to learn… everything. “So, how do you want to do this? Do you want me to just strip and climb up onto the bed?”
“Yes,” he said simply, slowly closing the door behind them. Anger flared within her and she shot him venomous glare which turned into a question when she saw the naked hunger on his face. The mask had disappeared and she was seeing him, seeing Feryn.
Letting out the breath she had been holding, she held his eyes as she removed her clothes: a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and her undergarments. When she was completely naked, she climbed up onto the bed as he asked; she was practically panting as she spread her legs and exposed her sex to his gaze. Nerves and excitement and anger battled for her attention; desire won. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” Slowly, he walked towards the bed, shedding his clothes as he walked and she let her eyes roam over his beautiful body, the long, muscled legs, the narrow waist and the smooth plane of his stomach, the thick and heavy penis that stood proudly erect from between his thick thighs; she could stare at his body forever.
She was so damned aroused; all of those dreams returned in a rush and she was already wet. He licked his lips as he climbed towards her until her legs were beneath him and his face was inches from her sex. Her body stiffened when she realized his intent; Jack had asked her if he could do this to her but she had been reluctant; it was so… intimate. “Relax, Malorie; I promise you that this will be good.”
