Stay (4 page)

I
wrapped my arms about his neck and rested my forehead on his chest. For one stolen moment I imagined I was human again, my curse broken. But the compulsion of my new mission fell like a brass weight about my neck. Behind my closed lids I could still see Lissa’s emerald eyes as she stole a glance at Cain. I remembered his longing for her.

“Sorry
’bout the mess,” he said as his chest vibrated beneath my face. “Wasn’t expecting company.”

He
swept aside a stack of papers before he set me to rest on an old couch. His home was small and sparse. An antique table sat in front of the couch, covered with more papers, books and empty cans. Workout equipment covered one corner of his living room. Past this was something I had not thought to see again. The stereo was long and tall, and the turntable open and ready for a fresh record.

When I
turned to search for the kitchen my eyes met a pair of long, jean-clad legs and traveled up their length to his belt and tucked-in black shirt. He popped his knuckles repeatedly into his palm and shifted from one foot to the other. Again I could feel his nervousness through the link that connected him and Lissa to me.

Keeping my head
bowed low, I noticed he had already pulled off his leather jacket and scarf.

When he noticed my scrutiny he tugged the cap roughly off his short
-cropped inky black hair and began wringing it in his hands. “So…” he began, clearing his throat, and attempted a smile. “I was thinking I could pull out the couch for you tonight. It’s already got sheets on it, can’t promise how fresh though.” Shifting on his feet again, he peered into the depths of my cloak and waited for an answer.

“Yes,
” I replied. I could hear my accent despite the rasp of my throat when I spoke. It summoned distant memories of a language and people long dead, of boats and fish and the sweet salty sea.

Cain nodded to himself and
glanced at the howl of the storm raging outside his window. “Looks like it’s gonna be a bad one this time. They say we haven’t had a winter like this in years.”

“I know.”

“Well,” he said after an awkward pause, “don’t worry. I already stocked up on supplies, so we should be good if it decides to hold out. Do you, ah, wanna borrow one of my shirts?” He gestured to the silvery blue skirts peeking from beneath my gray cloak.

“Thank you,
” I replied, though I was not sure it was a wise decision, since I seemed so off balance.

With a thoughtful smile on his lips he nodded and disappeared through the open door.
From the flats around us babies cried, couples fought and screamed threats, others held silent in fear of the coming storm.

I
removed my cloak, stood and carefully folded it until it slid into the pocket of my tunic. Gooseflesh rose on my arms as the chilled air rested on my skin. Cain had been right; it was cold, but not as much as the city beyond that window.

“Here you—go
.” Cain began confidently and then stuttered.

I twirled around at the sound of his voice, my waist
-length curls shifting in spite of the many intricate braids I had woven them into. Our eyes met, locked and seemed to graze together in a force swift as the tide. Cain’s jaw clenched as he strained against some fierce emotion. Yet when he breathed it was as though coming up for air again.

I
stood, closing the space between us, and said, “Thank you.”

Our fingers brushed as he handed over the heavy woolen fabric.
I watched his pupil overcome its iris, only to once more be consumed by rich indigo.

“Added some sweats and socks, since you’ll probably get cold,” he offered. “
Not like I have a lot to cover you up with, since this ain’t the Ritz.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he tore his eyes away and glared at the floor. “You can change in my bathroom. It’s through that door and on the right.”

I listened to the pounding of his heart as I passed.

Cain’s bedroom was dark but
felt much more like a home than the rest of his flat. The bed took up most of the space.

Anything smaller and he’d have to curl into a ball.

The bathroom light was already on. I looked at the razor and scattered dark hairs in the sink. Beside a sweet-smelling tube sat a toothbrush still in its package.

I lifted my eyes and found my reflection. Rare it was
that I even glimpsed my face. So often I lived in that in-between place of shadows and light. I gaped at the creature before me and realized I could not remember the last time I had met this woman in the mirror.

Silver threads wove through her curling golden hair and hung over her ancient tunic. In her time, those wheat
-colored tresses had been the envy of every girl in the village, a rarity that made her stand apart.
His
symbol still covered the clasp that held her dress together. Her features were sharp and angular yet surprisingly soft. Clan markings decorated the sides of her neck, signs of the ages gone by. Her skin was sun-kissed even now, the same rich olive of her people. Until the need to protect or destroy overcame her it would remain untouched by color and light. For now the gift rested within her eyes, glowing specks of every shade, inhuman eyes.

Grimacing, I turned away from my reflection, fisted t
he silver clasp and breathed deeply in and out as I removed it.

I could not say what the human felt when I emerged from his room, but the full weight of his emotions hit me like a breaking wave on the rocks. The neck of his shirt was so big on my narrow frame that it fell over my shoulder and I had rolled the waist of the pants until they bunched at my hips. Clutching hold of the massive shirt I wore for reassurance, I met his eye.

Light
emanating from the kitchen area behind him obscured his features with shadows. His eyes glinted and I could hear the crack and pop of his knuckles in his palm.

“Is this acceptable?” I held my other hand to my chest.

Choking on a laugh, he wiped his face with his hand and turned his head to the crackle of the radio. “Oh yeah… I mean, yeah, I hope the pullout is okay with you,” he said, gesturing to the dark space in front of him.

I
turned round and gasped. Running my hands over the expanded couch, I glanced over my shoulder to ask, “How did you perform this magic?”

He shifted on his feet again in what I was learning
was a nervous gesture and I wondered if he meant to join me. Something held him back, however.

Laughter clung to his voice as he replied,
“Oh you know, just my usual mad skills, babe…” He froze, hand rubbing through his short-cropped hair.

After s
itting down on the magical bed I stared up at him, transfixed in spite of myself. Never had silence disturbed me before this, nothing compared to the heaviness in the air or the tension stewing in my limbs. My eyes were drawn to his chest and the rapid beat of his heart, a syncopated beat for my ears alone.

He swayed slightly forward and then turned at the last second. A
fter releasing a bated breath he said, “I’ll let you get settled in then. Turned on the heater, so it should warm up in here soon enough. Just—let me know if you need anything, okay?” When he stepped fully into the light I could see that the scar on his cheek slid down further into his chin and past his neck. “Okay,” he reassured himself and forced a troubled smile as he softly said, “Night.”

-chelsea

Chapter 4

Waiting for the Storm

When I first saw him I vowed never to love another man again.

The man
Father arranged for me to marry beat me with his fists when I refused to pleasure him the night of the feast. He was not to touch me until the contracts had been inscribed, but he claimed he could not wait. This man was too powerful and when Father refused to see my bruises, I ran away.

The sea was my first home. With all I possessed I ran to the end of the village, the furthest tip of land jutting out into the emerald sea. This place had been my retreat since childhood. If I could only gather my thoughts and think of a plan before stealing aboard a frigate like a mad woman, I might have a chance. No
w that I had nowhere else to go, this was the last place I felt safe.

A stranger
was waiting for me. His eyes were what first struck me, so unnatural and blue, the shade of every sky and storm. I loved him first then, though I refused to know it…

Night and day had no meaning in the eye of the storm, yet I woke from dreaming when the sun rose far above the clouds. I looked past the endless rows of flats above his through the discolored ceiling, above the sea of white masking the glorious dawn. I loved the dawn as much as I had loved the sea in my youth. The morning I had met Seid, I believed the sun had brought him to me.

Pushing aside the old quilt I clutched my heart a
nd gasped an unnecessary breath at the realization.

I slept…

Fear creased the hidden lines in my brow. What had I done? What had changed? And then the slightest tweak of hope awoke like the dawn in my chest.

Is the
curse weakening?

Cain stirred in his bed, sheets rustling as he spoke in his sleep. Jerking my head to peer through the thin wall
separating us, I was relieved to find him yet asleep. My eyes lingered on the outline of his frame as an old longing rose up.

No.

I grasped my head with my hands so my hair created a curtain around my vision. I had dreamed for the first time in centuries. And all my dreams had been of
him
of course. I could never escape him, he had sworn in his fury.

“Lost to all mortal boundaries, forever you shall be my Orona…”

“You’re already awake, huh?” Cain’s voice was rough from sleep.

I jumped, startled to hear Seid’s voice coming from so different, yet so similar a man
, and stared owlishly up at him.

Ca
tching my expression, he laughed. “Sorry I got the jump on you. Just another one of my mad ninja skills.” His eyes gleamed brighter until they borrowed the shade of the morning sky. “So did you sleep okay? If you hate the couch I can give you the bed.” His smirk faded when I continued to blankly stare. His eyes wandered and confusion clouded his aura. The tight mask I had seen him wear over his expression the night before was back in place when he turned.

I g
athered my legs up from beneath me and rested my chin on top of my knees. “It was fine.”

“Good,” he said in a distracted tone.

My eyes drifted over him as he walked past the bar and into his kitchen. Besides his dark sweats and socks, he only wore a skin-tight sleeveless shirt over his bare chest. The latter was solely for my benefit, I sensed, so he did not embarrass me. Like most men, the less clothing he wore to sleep the better.

I could
sense everything he was feeling as he began sifting through cupboards and drawers. He was distracted by something and frustrated even more by something else. An underlying ache had remained with him ever since our eyes first linked. And had he not been my mission, had I not seen him look at Lissa, I might have wondered if that ache was for me.

Smashing his palms on his countertop, he leaned forward and glanced sheepishly up at me. “So…
I don’t stock up on normal stuff. Wasn’t expecting you, so I don’t know if you’d like my food or not. It’s an acquired taste.”

“I do not eat,” I answered with a shrug and
not for a second worrying how crazy that would sound.

His eyes widene
d. “Um… okay then. Guess that takes care of
that
problem.” Chuckling to himself, he rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. Under his breath he murmured something about crazy, desperate women.

The truth was I had not required a single meal in two thousand years. Somehow I
held enough sense to keep this, at least, from the human.

Cain did not feel it necessary to fill
the silence with useless words, something I was grateful for. I watched him eat his food for a time and wondered what the taste would be like to me now. In my time the fruit from my mother’s garden would have filled my belly. The substance he shoveled into his mouth hardly looked like food to me.

He frowned through his breakfast,
an expression that turned into a grimace while he washed his bowl and set it out to dry. By the time he was finished, I could feel the determination rolling off of him in waves as he crossed the room. His eyes lingered everywhere else in the room but me, though I sensed he desperately wanted to do otherwise. Crossing his impressive arms over his chest, he attempted to break the ice.

“So I didn’t ask you last night because you looked like you needed the handout. But seeing as we’re stuck here together till this storm breaks, I figure we need to talk through a few things.”