by C. R. Jane
This time the kiss is tender with a touch of longing hidden in it. Despite its gentle nature, it’s no less intense than the first. It still takes my breath away, and I feel another tug in my chest, as though the invisible string that connects us is reeling me closer to him. Beckham breaks away, and as our eyes meet, I see the same desire and confusion reflected in his eyes that is most likely reflected in mine. It’s hard to comprehend this history that exists between us, this love that has existed from the start of time.
The vision that I saw when I held my mother’s journal is even more confusing considering our history. If I was made for Aiden, how did Beckham and I’s love story begin? How did my love stories begin with the others? The secrets most likely lay in that journal buried in my nightstand...the journal that I’m ignoring.
“I’ve missed you so much, angel,” Beckham says, nuzzling against my neck and sending goosebumps spiraling across my body, effectively moving my thoughts back to him.
We talked for an hour last night and still the words flow between us. I accomplished nothing today, yet he makes me tell him every second of the day, acting like everything I did was important and valuable. As he starts to tell me about the scenes he shot today I remember something that I hadn’t thought of before. Beckham ended up with someone else in our past. An ache hits me, and I feel like I’m going to faint for a moment. Beckham sees me falter and he pulls me close, a concerned look on his face.
“Angel?” he asks.
I look at him, putting both of my hands on his face. I’m desperate that our past won’t be repeated, that this time there is no end to us, that we’ll go on forever and ever.
“Promise me something,” I tell him, placing a soft kiss on his face.
“Anything,” he says fervently.
“Promise me we’ll be in love forever.”
His face lights up as if I’ve just offered him everything he’s ever wanted.
“Always,” he says.
He opens his mouth, I’m sure to ask me where this concern is coming from. I silence him with a deep, passionate kiss however, and there’s no more words spoken until the car finally stops.
Beckham gets out of the car and grabs my hand to help me out. I’m laughing with delight as we get out because we’re right by the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. And sitting just beyond the tree is the giant ice-skating rink that I’ve always wanted to go skating on.
It’s still light luckily since Beckham is pulling on a furry Russian hat and a pair of sunglasses.
“I would have rented the rink for just the two of us, but I had the feeling you would want the full experience which means we’re doing this...crowds and all.”
I love him even more standing there in his ridiculous outfit designed to ward off potential, crazed fans. I grab his hand and drag him towards the entrance of the rink. He pays, and I laugh even more at the fact that the ticket attendant keeps her eyes carefully averted from Beckham in his get-up.
We skate for hours, holding hands the entire time. There’s a crowd of people around us, but I only see us. We grab hot cocoa and laugh and exchange chocolate kisses. And throughout it all, this thing that always lays between us builds until even the simplest touch between us is almost unbearable.
I’ve finally had enough, and Beckham is starting to get looks since it’s pitch black outside and he’s still wearing sunglasses. I grab his hand and pull him with me off the rink.
“Are you done?” he asks, his voice a pitch lower than usual.
“Just getting started,” I respond, loving the surprised look he gets on his face with my comment.
We run to the car, and I feel refreshingly young. It’s a drastic change from how I’ve been feeling lately, and I soak up the feeling.
He urges the driver forward and we seem to get to Beckham’s building in record time. I don’t even realize that it’s the front entrance until a few errant paparazzi lights threaten to burn my irises up. We get past the photographers into the safety of the building and race to the elevator to begin our ascent to his place.
I lean against the elevator wall, laughing still when I realize that he’s still wearing the Russian fur hat. He realizes it at the same time and begins to laugh as well.
Suddenly he stops and the temperature in the elevator seems to spike until it’s a little hard to breathe. He looks at me for a long, intense moment, his eyes burning with desire and affection and so many other things I can’t begin to process. And then he’s on me, no other description for our kiss except that he’s taken utter possession of my mouth. Complete and utter possession.
As his tongue strokes against mine, the fire ignites all the way like it’s been threatening to throughout our date. I’m carried away in a sea of heat and desire. He fists a handful of my hair to keep me anchored in place, but he doesn’t touch me anywhere else yet. This is all about lips and tongues and teeth and raw, desperate need. His leg sneaks between mine as his hand moves down my back to pull me in closer to him, so close that all the important parts of me are pressed tight against his muscular leg. I squirm to get even closer, to gain relief from the ache between my legs. Every part of me wants every part of him.
But all he does is kiss me and kiss me and kiss me until my lips are tingling and my lungs are about to burst. When I can no longer deny the need for air, I break the kiss and suck in greedy deep breaths as he turns his attention to my neck. The elevator hits a bump that knocks us out of the sensual haze we’ve slipped into. He raises his head to meet my gaze and smiles at me. I love that smile. It’s so sexy and potent and perfect. I could look at it all day and never get tired of seeing it.
“How’re you doing?” he says as the elevator doors open. His gaze is so tender, so totally focused on me.
“Great, perfect,” I manage to get out. I snort out a rather unladylike laugh at the inadequacy of my statement.
We manage to make it into his apartment before our lips are tangling again. Making love with Beckham is always a passionate battle. Almost like we’re making up for every lost moment of our tortured past with each other.
Reaching for the back of my head, Beckham roughly pulls on a handful of my long hair. I don’t even care. I want him with a neediness that would scare me if I didn’t know intrinsically that we were made for each other. His lips brush against my bottom lip, my neck, and all the way down my jaw. The sensations make everything blurred, flashing somewhere between wild and hot. Returning his lips to mine, I let out a soft moan. His tongue dips back inside my mouth, carefully rolling against my own. I press my body to his, feeling every inch of his hard-sculpted frame. The heat radiating between us is scorching. I run my hand under his shirt, feeling his warm smooth flesh and the dusting of hair just above his waistband.
Sliding his hand down my waist to the curve of my hip, he grips me tightly while flexing his fingers. I feel as if I am going to lose my mind and come unhinged at any moment. Repeating his move from the elevator, Beckham pushes my legs open with his knee, and I willingly let him.
“You’re driving me mad,” he hisses. Every single fiber of my body is throbbing with lust for this man. I feel like I’ve been starving for his body.
“I feel the same way,” I tell him, tilting my lips to his, kissing him deeply. My hands continued to roam his body. As I move my mouth to his neck, he lets out a deep moan that sends tingling vibrations across my lips. I’m alive in a way that I never even dreamed possible.
He pulls my face to meet his; his eyes locked on mine. As if he knows the power his gaze is having on me, he grins.
We somehow make it to the bedroom and the night passes with a blur, our bodies uniting over and over again until I lose track of who and where I am. There’s only us, there’s only this bed. Forever and ever.
Aiden’s waiting for me in my dreams. His hair is tousled like he’s been attempting to pull it out. There’s a nervous tic in his cheek that keeps pulsing.
“Darling,” he says, making an effort for his voice not to come out as a
ngry as he obviously feels. “I’ve given you so many chances. There’s going to start being more consequences.”
“Things are different now. If you’re waiting for me to be like I was in the past, it’s not going to happen. There’s no kingdom that I have to give everything up for this time,” I tell him, looking around at where he’s brought me for this invasion of my dreams. It looks just like New York City and I wonder why he’s chosen this backdrop for our rendezvous instead of our fallen kingdom like he usually does.
“You think things are really that different?” he asks, a smirk on his face. “Learn anything new lately?”
I freeze and keep my face averted from him, not wanting to let him know how much his question has affected me. The truth is that things are different. The knowledge that he’s played a part in my life far beyond my time as the Fairie queen has linked us in a way that is difficult to explain. And as far as I know, he wasn’t able to control and direct my dreams in my past life.
“It doesn’t change anything,” I tell him, finally looking at his beautiful face, a face that stirs a little too much emotion inside of me than I would like. “I still think you’re a monster, and I would rejoice at your death.”
I blink and he’s behind me, running his lips over my shoulder. “If I’m a monster and you were created to be mine, what does that make you?” he asks in a sensually decadent voice that sends shivers down my spine.
There is the question that I’ve been avoiding. More than not wanting to belong to Aiden, I don’t want to find out that I was created to be his perfect match. Because the darkness that lies in him calls to me in a way that grows harder to ignore every day. My time with him in his dream world changed me in that it awakened parts of me that I didn’t know existed. Will the darkness someday overtake me?
Aiden’s hand strokes down to my chest and when he finally pulls away there’s a gleaming ruby necklace hanging between my breasts. It glimmers under the city lights like a drop of blood. I reach to yank it off my neck and it burns my hand when I touch it, causing me to drop it with a gasp of pain.
“What is this? Get it off of me now,” I tell him, the anger allowing my hands to spark up with a gold glow.
“This is my dream, my darling,” he tells me. “Your power won’t work here.”
I try to make the golden glow grow, but nothing happens.
“Remember this is your last warning, Eva,” he tells me, staring at me with his dark eyes that threaten to drag me into their depths.
I wake up freezing cold. When I move my arm to try and pull the blanket up, I scrape against what feels like tiny rocks. My eyes fly open, and I cry out. I’m in an alleyway, strewn on the ground. And I’m completely naked. I start to shiver. It’s hovering near freezing and I have no protection. I move my arms to cover my chest and I feel something wet on my chest. Moving my arms away, I’m horrified to see them covered in what looks like fresh blood. A closer examination though shows me that it’s paint. The paint has come from a scarlet A that’s been drawn on my chest, replacing the ruby necklace that Aiden had placed around my neck in my dream. And on the building wall behind me the word “whore” has been painted in the same bright red paint.
I’m so cold that I’m unable to think clearly, wondering how I got out here. Aiden’s never been able to move me in a dream before, or has he always held that power and I’ve just been lucky in the past that he hasn’t used it? There’s no sign of my belongings, and I feel violated that he managed to get my clothes off. At the same time, I wonder if he is really responsible, because it seems counterintuitive to his jealous nature to leave me out here where anyone could see me.
I shakily get to my feet. I have no idea where I am and the idea of going out to where people are with my current state of undress gives me a panicky feeling that makes me want to throw up.
I try to focus on the golden ball of power that is always inside of me waiting, but I can’t muster up even a spark as I’m shivering so hard. Frustrated tears start to run down my face as nothing happens. I’m useless.
I extend my hearing out, trying to get an idea of where I am, but all I can hear are the sounds of the city. There are no markings on the walls giving me any clue about what buildings I’m by. There’s only the scarlet red “WHORE” insignia. It reminds me of the “A” that’s still on my chest and I smear it all around, deciding that it’s better to look like I have blood all over me than an “A.” I walk farther down the alley until I get to the entrance out to the street. I peek around the side of the building and I give a sigh of relief when I recognize the entrance to the Rothmore College campus right across from me. Although maybe that’s worse than if I had been dropped by Times Square because there’s a greater chance that someone I know is now going to see me naked.
I back up into the alley again, looking around at the trash strewn everywhere. Surely there’s something that I can use to cover myself as I try to venture home. I dig around through the trash and gag several times, the stench combined with the maggots hiding under several of the items of trash more than I can take.
I find a few black trash bags and empty them so that I can attempt to wear them, at least wanting to cover my chest and lower body. The bags are covered in a sticky liquid, but I’d rather be dirty than naked.
Once I’m at least a little bit covered, I start to walk out to the street, knowing that I’m going to garner looks no matter what I do. It’s early morning so the street is reasonably quiet. I’m not sure where to go. I don’t want to walk on to campus and go to the dorm room that I still have on campus and risk people seeing me.
It’s so cold, and I look ridiculous. I wonder if I slip into a store to ask to use the phone if they will immediately call the police thinking that I’ve been assaulted.
I finally decide that I’ll just call for a cab and I can pay them when I get back to the penthouse. I slip out to the sidewalk to hail a cab. Most of the red paint on my chest is covered so hopefully it will at least not look like I’ve been stabbed. Just as I raise my hand to hail the cab as Lexi has taught me, I hear my name called.
The voice makes me cringe since it belongs to Eric. I’ve been ignoring his texts lately and his messages have been growing increasingly angry as time has passed.
I hear Eric approaching and I reluctantly lower my arm and face him. He’s looking at me in horror and growing anger.
“What happened to you?” he asks, reaching out to touch me.
I take a step back to avoid his hand. Trying to think of an excuse, I say the first plausible thing that crosses my mind.
“Just a sorority prank,” I tell him quickly. “Nothing to worry about.”
“This is a sorority prank?” he asks. “I didn’t even know that you were joining one. Isn’t rush usually in the fall and reserved for sophomores?”
“They made a special exception for me I guess,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders and wishing he would go away.
“Which sorority are you rushing for?” he asks, and I want to scream. I’m standing on the sidewalk of a public street that’s starting to wake up, nearly naked. I’m dirty and cold, and he’s not even bothering to hide the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off my body, which makes me feel even dirtier.
“Eric, I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but it’s freezing outside and as you can see, I’m not exactly fit for public consumption.”
Just as I say that I hear a whistle and Eric cuts a glare to the group of fraternity guys that happen to be walking on the sidewalk outside of the university gates.
“Eric, can I please borrow a few dollars for a cab? I need to get home.”
The tears in my voice finally knock some sense into him because he hurriedly calls me an Uber so that he can just pay for me when I get there.
“I’m coming with you,” he says determinedly as the car pulls up. I’m desperate to get home so I don’t even bother arguing with him.
The next twenty minutes are some of the more awkward ones of my life as I sit, clot
hed in a garbage sack, next to Eric as the Uber driver attempts to chatter with us from the front.
Glancing over to him I notice he looks different, and not necessarily in a bad way. Gone is the tan that he had when we first started school. He’s now pale, almost too pale since I can see the blue of his veins under his skin. His eyes are shadowed, like he hasn’t slept for months. Despite those things, he looks better than he ever has. Almost like someone went over his skin with some kind of machine and made it look shiny and new. It sparks a memory of someone that I had seen that looked similar, but I can’t recall who it was.
When we finally pull up in front of Damon and Mason’s building. I hurriedly get out of the cab, turning to say thanks to Eric before realizing that he’s gotten out behind me. I’m barely keeping it together and just want to get away.
“Eva,” calls Damon’s frantic voice from farther down the sidewalk. I close my eyes, praying that a situation isn’t about to happen, and Damon will notice that I’m not in a condition to deal with him fighting or antagonizing Eric.
I’m surprised when Eric is the one who brushes a kiss against my cheek and says goodbye, getting into the Uber that was still waiting by the curb before Damon even gets to us.
“Where have you been?” asks Damon, his eyes darkening as he looks over my body. “Let’s get you inside, you’re turning blue.”
He sweeps me into his arms and we’re through the lobby and up to the penthouse barely before I blink. I’m shivering so hard that my teeth feel like they’re going to shatter and fall from my mouth.
Mason’s on the phone when we get in. “Fuck,” he says when he sees me. “She’s here,” he says to whoever he’s talking to. I hear someone yell on the phone and realize that it’s Beckham. He’s probably horrified that I disappeared while I was in his bed.
