Savior (14 page)

“I would,” she replied regally. “Thank you.”

I groaned, thinking they were taking this far too lightly. My mother shot me a glare but began talking immediately after.

“The scroll was limited in scope,” she warned, and I recalled that the first channelers records were compiled with headlines rather than paragraphs. “But I’ll tell you what we know.” She focused on Jameson. “Do not let what I am about to recount to you daunt, overwhelm, or frighten you in any way.”

I scoffed, clearly being sarcastic. “Well, when you put it that way….”

Again, she glared at me.

“There is no one else I would trust my daughter’s life or happiness with other than you.”

“Thank you,” he said, both gratified and impatient.

“And when you come to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage, I will say yes.”

He paused. “I…appreciate that….”

“I’ll say ‘yes’ because the children you’ll bear will be the light of my life.”

Jameson creased his forehead. “Are you….”

“Yes.” She grinned. “I am.”

He did his best to restrain the smile that wanted to break free, pressing his lips together and nodding as a distraction, but eventually the smile won.

“We’re going to have children?” he asked, elated. “We are, aren’t we? We’re going to have them.”

Now it was my expression turning to confusion. “You mean….”

“Yes,” he said, crossing the room and taking me in his arms. “She’s telling us what the scroll says.”

He twisted at the waist to ask my mother, “So that’s why you did your due diligence on me? It's how you knew my grade point average, the car I drove…everything.”

“You wouldn’t think I’d go without knowing all there is about the man who will marry my daughter, do you?”

He chuckled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “No, Isabella, I wouldn’t. Not you.”

The last part of his response might have been taken as offensive to anyone other than my mother; but she prided herself on being aggressive, and Jameson knew it.

She was incredibly flattered.

“Jameson,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you know what that means?”

“Yes,” he said, trying to contain his enthusiasm. “We survive.”

And I knew what he meant. We live through the war, but that wasn’t the only part to celebrate.

“No,” I said. Despite my best effort, tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. “
You
survive.
You…survive
.”

When this news sank in, he wrapped me in his arms, pressing the sides of our faces together, whispering back, “The prophecy is wrong, Jocelyn. It’s
wrong
.”

I had never experienced euphoria before - no circumstance in my life having ever brought it on - but, at that moment, right then, it flooded me. Suddenly, I was free, unrestricted. The cloak around my body no longer weighed on my shoulders; my chest expanded as I inhaled without the common tension-related constraint; my entire body felt light. If it weren’t for the rutted floorboard beneath my foot, I would have thought I was floating.

Our elation lasted seconds, as long as it took for my mother to overhear and correct our misunderstanding. “You will marry her and she will bear your children but, Jameson, she is The Relicuum. And as The Relicuum-”

“NO!” I said quickly, cutting her off, but she refused to be silenced.

“She will take your life to end the war.”

“Stop!” I snapped, feeling my face twist in anger. “STOP!”

“Jocelyn,” said Jameson, capturing my head in his palms and turning it back to him. “It’s all right…it's all right.”

“No, it’s not,” I seethed. “We will have children together, Jameson. And if you want to marry me, I will say yes. And…,” my eyes shifted to my mother, “…our children will grow up with their father.”

His voice was soft when he spoke. “You’ll say yes?”

Hearing it from my mother wasn’t as concrete as hearing it from me.

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes….” A tear trickled down my cheek as Jameson laughed triumphantly, pulling me into his arms again. I welcomed it, his arms being the only place I felt safe.

We stood this way for a long time, the firm feeling of him against me both comforting and secure. Neither of us became aware that Isadora and my mother had left the room until I looked up.

As I surveyed the empty room, Jameson caught my eye. He was grinning and a chuckle was starting to rumble in his chest.

“What?” I prompted him.

“You’re thinking something.”

“I am,” I admitted.

“Now that sounds to me like you have a plan in mind,” he said.

“I do. We’re going to finish finding the other Vires and piece together the records.”

“Find Kalisha and Maleko,” he declared with a nod. “A solid plan. We’ll learn what’s ahead of us and avoid the outcome.”

“Exactly.”

He paused to evaluate me, his eyes sweeping across my face as a smirk played on his lips.

“What?”

“You’re stunning,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much…what was it that Sartorius accused you of?” His smirk widened. “Defiance.”

“Good,” I said, not bothering to add that I was going to need it. “We know the beginning and we know the end. Now, we need to figure out the middle.”

“The war,” he surmised. “We need to find the records detailing the war.”

“Right,” I said, already gazing toward the door.

“But first,” Jameson interrupted my thoughts. “We’re going to need sleep.”

I began to protest, but he stopped me. “Even the mighty, powerful witch doctor needs to recuperate.”

Knowing he was teasing, my head tilted to the side and a frown weighted down my cheeks.

On a more serious note, he added, “You’ll need the energy, Jocelyn.”

He was correct. Vires would continue their attacks, attempting to flush us out and my ‘mighty, powerful’ abilities were actually strained as much as Jameson’s. If we did run into trouble, it wouldn’t be easy to defend ourselves or anyone else. Right now, we were vulnerable.

I just didn’t realize how much until our paths crossed with our enemies’.

8  UNITY

I was fine until the door closed behind me, and then the nervousness began.

Halting in the middle of Jameson’s shack, to stare awkwardly at his bed, caused my muscles to tense even more.

“Are you all right?” he asked, coming up behind me.

“Yes,” I said, though not very convincingly. There was one factor making my legs immobile. “Jameson?”

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled, still not touching me until he knew what was causing me to stiffen at the sight of his bed.

Whispering seemed to make the truth less shameful, so I lowered my voice. “I think I want this more than I should.”

Containing his laughter, he moved around me, grinning flirtatiously. “I think I can fend you off.”

When he fell back into the bed, leaving space enough for me, I had to force myself to calm down.

I’m supposed to sleep, I told myself. Sleep…. Right now, that seemed like an insurmountable feat.

Jameson’s lithe body stretched out before me, the hem of his shirt lifting to expose the contours of his lean stomach; his arms folded beneath his head inadvertently forcing his muscles to swell; sending his hair falling forward, nearly concealing his clear green eyes, which were focused on me.

Swallowing, I looked away, avoiding eye contact the entire way to the bed.

As my body sank down next to him, I held my breath, wondering how I could possibly be more enticed than him. But I heard him exhale, gradually, painfully, and knew I wasn’t the only one being teased. He seemed to stop breathing altogether as my head settled on his chest, and only began again after I found a comfortable place for it.

In the quiet of his shack, sounds of the village filtered through the gaps in the walls and floorboards. Voices blended together. The creak of the settling wood docks reverberated back to us, an oddly natural symphony. In the distance, hammers pounded against wood as new shacks were being constructed, and Uncle Lester chastised his new recruits for not moving fast enough. Soon, the noises became their own quiet melody, making me feel like we were in a world all our own.

Jameson’s chest rose and fell to his own steady rhythm, the sides of him expanding out to press against me, reminding me of his presence. I thought he’d followed the agreed plan and had fallen asleep, and then I adjusted my arm across his chest.

His breath drew in sharply.

“Sorry…I-”

“It’s all right,” he mumbled, though I felt his body tense.

Then I made the most tempting move I could have, without even realizing it. My fingers uncurled, spreading out and flattening against his chest.

His hand came up, slipped around mine, and carried my fingers to his lips. Softly, gently, he kissed them, his warm breath drifting over their edges.

My entire body responded. I slid my legs closer to his, pushing my hips into the arc of his body. His solid frame was tantalizing.

The next thing I knew, he was on his side, facing me, and our lips were inches apart.

“Weatherford,” he began in warning, using a term of endearment I’d never heard from him before; but he didn’t seem able to finish. Restraining himself, his breath was as short as mine now.

We both knew the repercussions of what we were doing, realizing it the second we’d agreed to sleep together in an effort to regain our energy quicker. But neither of us knew how difficult it would be. I had an inkling of an idea as I came through the door. Not being as confident in my abilities to control my emotions as Jameson could be, I was better equipped to foresee the very position we were in now.

“Maybe I can’t…,” he muttered breathlessly, his eyes still closed, his mind still fighting for control, “…fend you off.”

“Mmmm.” I didn’t risk saying anything more.

He laughed sarcastically. “It’s a good thing we’re going to marry. You’ve ruined me for any other girl.”

Immediately, I smiled.

“You enjoy knowing that?” he asked and before I could answer, he added, “I can feel your cheek against me. Do you have any idea how seductive that smile of yours is?"

I decided to satisfy his curiosity. “Yes, I do enjoy knowing it, and, no, I had no idea my smile was seductive.” With each point, I tapped my finger lightly against his chest.

“Oh,” he chuckled under his breath, catching my hand and kissing the finger that had been tapping. “You really do know how to tease.”

“Open your eyes,” I urged, not so much to prove that theory but because there was only one thing that gave
me
the same reaction: his deep, tempting, translucent green eyes.

He paused and I knew why. He was still on the verge, clinging to the hope that he was strong enough to subdue his reaction to me. Anything could trigger him again, including the sight of me. I felt guilty for it. It wasn’t right to have this much command over someone, intentional or not.

“If you don’t want to…,” I began and then his lids lifted, staring directly into my eyes.

In that moment, I knew he had just as much influence over me as I did over him.

“You’re smiling,” he commented, after taking a deep breath to overcome his reaction to it.

“Not deliberately.”

He seemed to struggle. I saw it in the tightening of his jaw and the flaring of his nose.

He delicately traced his hands along my waist before grabbing my jeans and melding our bodies together. But he was dead set on keeping his head still, the debate still raging in him.

I could see that he was losing to it, giving in, as his lips fell open and his forehead creased with concern.

But his thrust had caused my body to arch into him, and that pressure, the feeling of our bodies so close to each other, foiled our efforts at maintaining a safe distance.

His warm, enticing lips pressed delicately against mine, lingering there so that his breath softly caressed me.

Unable to restrain ourselves any longer, we surrendered to our emotions.

Our lips met eagerly, inciting a desire within me that surpassed anything I’d ever felt before. It was like we were experiencing the ecstasy of feeling each other's lips for the first time. The tender strokes of our kiss cast away our intentions and discarded any effort toward sleep.

My yearning for him dominated every emotion, every thought. Only my dizzy awareness of where his body touched mine took precedence.

His mouth found the curve of my neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses before returning to my lips with unbridled longing. Sliding my hands beneath his shirt, I sensually traced my fingers along the firm planes of his chest and abdomen. His skin was inviting, teasing me with its warmth there. I clung to him, feeling his muscles quiver beneath my touch, telling me that he was just as enticed as me.

Then an abrupt, startling knock rattled his door, breaking into our private world.

Annoyed by this intrusion, our lips parted regretfully, and he exhaled with profound frustration.

“Who is it?” His tone was almost a bark.

“Charlotte,” she grumbled, seeming just as unhappy about disturbing us as we were that she had. “I was sent to get you.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t say,” she snapped. “Are you coming or not?”

He hesitated, everything in his body desperate to remain where he was. Unfortunately his strong call to duty won out. “Get some sleep,” he urged in an almost unintelligible whisper, attempting to conceal the fact I was in his shack. “I’ll be back.”

Once standing, he didn’t hurry for the door. Instead, he paused and turned to look down at me, the desire in his eyes still clearly visible.

“Go,” I insisted, even while knowing it would disappoint both of us tremendously to have to stop now.

He groaned in response, holding his hands firmly in his pockets as if he didn’t trust they wouldn’t reach for me again.

Once outside, Charlotte demanded, “Is Jocelyn in there?”

“Come on, Charlotte,” Jameson objected.

She hissed, “Figures….”

I listened to the creak of the dock as they stepped into Charlotte’s boat, before being coddled to sleep by the sounds of the village.