Arianna Rose: The Arrival (Part 4) (22 page)

Chapter 15

Arianna watched Darius stop just short of the doorstep of her cabin.  If she hadn’t been paying close attention, she would have walked into his back, another misstep, only one that would have been literal.  He’d been exceptionally quiet for the duration of their return.  She knew why, of course.  She’d hurt him by rebuffing his subtle advance.  All he’d done was interlink his fingers with hers.  He hadn’t jumped on her and he hadn’t tried to grope her, yet she’d reacted as if he’d made a bold move.  She’d become squirrely and darted away from him, though she still could not determine why exactly.  He was loyal thus far, dependable, good looking, and had won the approval of the entire camp.  And there was the small detail that he may or may not be her intended husband.  But for reasons she could not explain, she’d scurried away from him.

Her recent heartache, the death of her mother, of Lily, of Luke, all of it had left her plagued by corrosive emotions. 
Her past, present and future clustered together and terrified her so fully that most mornings she feared opening her eyes because eventually, everyone she knew would leave one way or another.  Her heart bore scars she was all too aware of, scars and bitterness.  Hurt and loss had left her cynical and distrustful, with frayed wisps of faith that anyone in her life would stay.  A part of her thought it best to keep those around her at arm’s length, for their protection, and hers too.  Still, she did not want to hurt anyone, Darius included.  Her defensive maneuver during their hike had done just that.

“Darius,” she said his name and he froze
, save for the tick at his temple as the muscles there worked.  The forest had gone unnaturally still. The birds, the shuffle of leaves as animals scuttled about, the breeze, all fell silent, as if the universe itself held its breath.  He turned toward her slowly.  “I’m, uh, sorry for, uh, you know,” she fumbled and nibbled her lower lip.  “Oh crap, I suck at this, Darius.  This is really uncomfortable!” She kicked a tuft of weedy growth at her feet.  “I’m sorry for what happened back there,” she said finally and felt a deep blush redden her cheeks.  “I had my heart splattered all over hell and I am a little gun-shy now.”  She covered her face with her hands.  Then from behind them said, “Feel free to walk away anytime.”

When she did not hear the soft swish of grass beneath his feet, she peeked at him from between her fingers.  He raised his hands and touched them to her
wrists, gently lowering them.  “I’m touching you, but don’t take off now, okay,” he said and smiled impishly.

“Ha, ha, I guess I deserve that,” she rolled her eyes and steeped in embarrassment.

His face turned serious.  “No, you didn’t.  I do not want to upset you, ever.”

Half her mouth curved up in a deflated smile.  She shrugged.  “Maybe I deserve every bad thing that happens to me,” she mumbled under her breath and looked away. 

Darius gripped her shoulders and her head whipped toward him.  His arresting stare held her.  “No Arianna!  Do not think that way.  Nothing that has happened to you has been deserved or fair,” he said vehemently.  “You deserve so much better,” he added, his voice gravelly and filled with longing. 

Arianna’s stomach flip-flopped.  She shifted her weight from one leg to the next then asked, “Want to come in for some terrible coffee?” and smiled brightly.

“Terrible coffee sounds great,” Darius mirrored her smile. 

She brushed past him and opened the door.  Once inside, the cabin felt far smaller than it had since she’d begun her stay.  Darius had a way of filling a room.  She kicke
d her boots off and made her way to the kitchenette.  “Would you like your coffee regular or extra muddy?” she asked as she heaped a spoonful of brown pellets into her mug.

“Is there a difference?” he asked and cringed.

“Just how much of this stuff I spoon in I guess,” she answered and laughed.

“Surprise me then,” he shrugged. 

“Relax.  Take a load off.  I’ll be a few minutes here,” she told him and hoped he’d sit rather than watch her. 

“Thanks.  Don’t mind if I do.”  She heard the thud of his boots hitting the wood flooring followed by the rustling crunch of the wicker chair he’d sat in while he’d watched her sleep after he’d saved her and her friends.  She smiled to herself and shook her head.  The chair was awful and uncomfortable, yet he seemed to like it
as he almost always chose to sit in it. 

When finally the water had boiled and had been poured over the instant coffee bits, she carried
the mugs to the bedroom area and handed one to Darius and kept one for herself.  He took a sip and crinkled his nose.  “It’s good, right?” she said sarcastically then took a long drink of hers.  The thick, bitter concoction tasted like unhappiness in a cup.  “Umm,” she said with enthusiasm befitting a premium coffee commercial. 

Darius laughed. 
The sound was genuine and she could not help but laugh, as well.  “We should start a movement to have this stuff in coffee houses,” he said through chuckles. 

“Yeah, I can see it now, people heading in droves to all the frou-frou joints and telling the baristas ‘I’ll have a grande sludge, no foam.
’”

A rasping noise burst from Darius as he choked on his coffee, coughing and laughing simultaneously.  “Oh man, I think a little coffee came out of my nose,” he said as he blotted coffee and tears from his eyes with the hem of his shirt.  Arianna was given a clear view of his tight abdominal
muscles as he did and the smile that had made her cheeks ache wilted a bit.  Hurt and a strange flutter of want battled inside her.  She forced her gaze to his face, which did not do much to ease the fight.  “You have such a great sense of humor, you know that?” he complimented her and her warring insides lit up like a disco ball and spun.

“I
recall being told I have a biting sense of humor, which, correct me if I’m wrong, does not mean great.”

“Nah, you’re sharp.  That’s a good thing for sure,” he assured her and his gaze settled on her.  He smiled a slow, easy smile. 

Arianna squirmed and concentrated on her suddenly fascinating coffee mug, studying it as if it answered every question in the universe.  “Yeah, well, that’s subjective, I guess,” she muttered. 

“I don’t give a damn what it is,” he surprised her by saying.  “I like it.  Screw everybody else.”

She looked up at him quizzically, wondering where his heated comment had come from.  “O
kay
,” she said. 

“No, seriously, Arianna, who gives a damn what anybody else has to say?  You are who you are.  And who you are is amazing.  You are mo
re important to this planet than most people can wrap their tiny little minds around, let alone appreciate.  So screw them.  Screw people who don’t get you.”

Arianna had never really thought of herself as important, certainly not on a global scale.  But Darius seemed to.  And he seemed royally annoyed that there were others who felt differently. 

“Hm,” she said without knowing what else to say or do.  “Want more coffee?” she asked and gave a sunny smile.

Darius looked at her with a deadpan expression.  “Please, no.  No thank you.”

Arianna’s body crumpled and she was overwhelmed by a fit of laughter.  “It’s not
that
bad, is it?”

“Oh no, it’s worse,
much
worse,” he said and the laughter continued. 

He set his mug on the nightstand and leaned forward on his knees, clasping his hands and resting his forearms on his thighs.  “So tell me about yourself.  Tell me about your childhood.”

“Childhood, what’s that?  Sounds like the Loch Ness monster, you know, ‘cause I’ve heard of it, but never really seen it for myself,” she tried to joke.  But Darius did not laugh and he did not smile.  “Oh, tough crowd I see,” she sighed.  “Okay, well, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know you.  I want to know what your life was like.”

“Well,” she said and scratched her chin.  “Where do I begin?” she stalled, debating whether to dive in and begin sharing.  “Uh, my mom is,” she started then caught herself.  “Was,” she corrected.  “Cathy Rose.  I have no idea who my father is.  I don’t think my mom did either.  He was long gone before I was born.”  She looked at Darius who nodded thoughtfully.  “Shit, you’re like a shrink.  Want a notepad or something?” she teased.

“I’m sorry, Arianna.  I do not want to make you uncomfortable.  I just want to know more about you, more than legends and predictions.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t pry.  Let’s talk about something else, if that will make you happy.”

“Happy. There’s a word,” she said with a hint of dejection.  “Look, I grew up kind of like luggage.  My mom would lug me from place to place because she had to.  She would shack up with one loser after another until some big blow-up happened and we had to leave and repeat the process.  I started smoking when I was nine or ten and was home alone a lot while my mom went out and partied.”

“Do you still smoke?”

Arianna narrowed her eyes at him and did a double take.  She wasn’t mad, just perplexed.  “What kind of oddball question is that?  I spill my guts and you ask me if I still smoke?”

“Yes, do you?”

Thrown, her upper lip lifted and her features gathered.  “No,” she answered finally.  “Desmond didn’t like it so I quit a few months ago.”

“Did you want to quit?” he asked, another curveball question tossed her way.

“Honestly?”

“No, Arianna, lie to me, please,” he smirked and rolled his eyes.  “Of course, I want you to be honest.”

Arianna closed her eyes and said, “No, I never wanted to quit.  I enjoyed smoking, loved it really.  And I know, I know, it’s bad for me and all that stuff, but I looked forward to it.”

“So Desmond didn’t tell you?”

“What?  Tell me what?”

“What a selfish ass!” Darius spat.

“What are you talking about?  What didn’t Desmond tell me?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. 

“Um, that because you’re a supernatural being, you will not suffer the effects a mortal suffers from smoking.  For the same reason you’ve never broken a bone or
fallen ill, your lungs are invulnerable to the chemicals in cigarettes.”

Arianna thought she’d need a ladder to sc
rape her eyebrows from the ceiling.  “No kidding,” was all she could manage. 

“Desmond must not have like
d the smell or the taste on your tongue,” he said with disapproval. “He was not looking out for you, that’s for sure.”

His words cut her, perhaps because they rang with truth.  “I guess not,” she said and braced herself against the rush of emotions barreling at her. 

Darius stood and walked to the dresser.  He opened the drawer she’d offered him after he’d returned from a trip to town to buy clothes and slid his hand along the interior panel.  When he retrieved it, he held a small, rectangular box.  He opened the lid and slid a long, narrow cylinder from it.  “I have been hiding these since I got here, sneaking off into the woods from time to time to steal a drag or two.  I crave them.  Maybe it’s the nicotine, I don’t know. It’s probably mind over matter.  I know I’m not addicted in the traditional sense, but man, I love it.”

“You smoke?” she asked and her eyes
widened. 

“Yep, I do,” he said and loc
ked eyes with her.  “Should I be embarrassed?” he asked and tilted his head to one side innocently.

“No, not at all.”  She watched as his hand moved the cigarette to his mouth and licked her lips, not knowing what she envied more, his lips or the cigarette.

He noticed her watching and said, “Do you mind?” and gestured with the lighter he’d fished from the drawer. 

“No, go right ahead.”

Darius rolled the flint and a spark ignited immediately.  He touched the tip of his cigarette to it.  The tip lit and began to glow a bright orange.  He inhaled deeply then exhaled a plume of opaque smoke. 

Arianna could practically feel the sinuous vapors winding down her throat, twining into her lungs in a gust that filled her with light-
headed bliss.  She’d been a nonsmoker for months, considered herself broken of the habit, yet a part of her wanted to walk over to Darius, strip the cigarette from his fingers, place it between her own lips and pull milky breaths from it until the world ceased spinning out of control as it had in the past six months, since her powers had made their appearance. 

Darius had
apparently noticed that she licked her chops like a starved animal.  He held the cigarette out to her.  “I know you quit but,” he started but did not need to finish his sentence.  She sprinted toward him and affixed her mouth to the filter and within seconds, filled her lungs with smoke.  She coughed several times and felt giddy and a bit wobbly at the same time.  But before long, a goofy grin rounded her cheeks. 

“Such a guilty pleasure,” she said. 

“Why is it a guilty pleasure and not a pleasurable pleasure?” he asked and his eyes danced with mirth.

“Because, you know, it’
s bad and all,” she grasped at a solid reason in the viscous swirl of her thoughts.

“Well sure, if you weren’t the Sola, if you were, say, an average woman your age.”  Woman.  He’d referred to her as a woman, not a girl.  His word choice, though possibly not deliberate, set her smoke addled mind afire.  A woman was sexy, powerful, capable, while a girl was testing her wings, still unsure.