Wake of Darkness (17 page)

            “Hold it like this,” he said, adjusting her hand
so that it properly griped the bow.

            He stepped behind her, taking her right hand in
his own and positioning it properly on the bow string.

            “This is the nocking point,” he said, caressing
the string and her hand. She tried not to notice. “This is where you place the
nock—the end—of the bow.”

            She nodded and tried to keep her thoughts to
herself as she felt the heat of his body against her back. He placed his hands
on her hips to rotate her into the proper position. He moved his hands back up
to hers where they were placed on the bow. She drew in a shaky breath and
waited. She felt his chest rise with each breath as he stood behind her.

             He cleared his throat. “Now, pull the string
back…like this,” he said, pulling her right hand backwards with his so that the
back of his thumb gently grazed her cheek.

            He slowly guided her hand back to the start
position so as not to dry fire the bow, and picked up an arrow.

            “Place it here,” he instructed, making minor
adjustments to her hands and fingers.

The space between them became
tenser and the silence of the rest of the room fell like a heavy cloak.

            “Now,” he instructed, pulling her right hand
back with his own, “I am going to let go. Inhale and release your right hand
when you are ready.”

            She nodded, the gesture causing her hair to move
so that it tickled his cheek. He took a step back from her and after two deep
breaths she inhaled and released the bow string.

            The arrow whistled its way through the air and
plunged into the wooden target at the end of the lane, a little high and to the
right of the bulls’ eye.

            “Still a lethal shot,” he commended.

            She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled
tentatively. It sounded like a compliment to her.

            “It
is
a compliment,” he replied.

            “Thanks,” she said.

            “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, let’s try
again.”

            He stepped up behind her once more and he ran
his fingers along her right arm, positioning it correctly. She closed her eyes
at the touch; the sensation was more distracting than she thought it should be.
She chastened herself to focus as his palm pressed against her hand and left a
warm sensation there when he let her go.

            “Fire when ready,” he instructed.

            She nodded and concentrated on the target within
her sights. She inhaled and released the bow string and watched the arrow fly
towards the target and land between the bulls’ eye and her first shot. She was
getting better…not that she had been bad to start with.

            She turned to reflexively look for his approval.
Instead, she found a pained and distracted expression there, as he gazed at the
target.

            She dropped her hands and turned to face him
completely.

            “What is it?” she asked, quietly.

            His eyes shifted to hers and he stared at her
for what could have been two seconds or two hours, she wasn’t sure for how long.
She knew it felt like an eternity. He stepped towards her and looked like he
was about to say something to her. Instead, he shut his mouth once more and
turned away to look at the target that now held two of her arrows.

            She sighed, exasperated.

“Look!” she exclaimed, suddenly
angry at him, and surprising even herself with her response. “If you won’t let
me in there,” she pointed a violent finger toward his head, “then at least have
to courtesy to let me know what the hell you’re thinking when you look at me
like that!” She exclaimed. She threw her free hand up in the air, exasperated. “I
can’t…I can’t
stand
it anymore, Alexander! We’ve gone months, sharing
the same hallways, the same school buildings…there’ve been months of watching
you watch
me
and I
never
know what you’re thinking. Now we’re
living together, and everyone else is letting me in their head – well, except
Catherina, but you know what I mean, and you’re still silent to me. And it…it…”
she trailed off, feeling defeated.

She sighed and shook her head. He
reached down and silently took the bow from her hand and placed it on the table
beside them.

“I can’t…I mean, I don’t know what
to think,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Forgive me,” he said quietly, and
all of the frustration and irritation melted from her instantly.

She shook her head not
understanding him, about to speak, when he held a finger up to stop her. She
inhaled steadily and watched him.

And then the flood gates were
wrenched open as his thoughts suddenly rushed over her. She gasped as she
recognized her feelings and her emotions in his.

He stepped towards her. He took her
right hand, tracing his fingers along the inside of her arm as he stepped
closer.

“What?” she asked.

I cannot pretend any longer,
he
thought in the same instant that he pulled her into his arms.

His free hand suddenly grasped the
back of her neck and his lips crushed down on hers and the invisible wall that
had been built between them disappeared. She kissed him back with as much
passion as she’d felt when she was trying to kill him earlier. She stepped into
him and his back was suddenly against the wall.

He held tightly, like a man
drowning and she lost herself in his kisses. His kissed her neck as she turned
her head and without thinking about it, sighed into his ear. He growled
somewhere from deep in his chest and his lips were suddenly, almost violently,
on hers again. She returned his force with her own unbreakable assault.

Suddenly, he pulled away from her
to look into her eyes. He released her arm and wrapped his own around her
waist. They were both breathless.

“What?” she asked again, looking
into his eyes, panting. “I don’t…understand.”

“What is there to understand?” he
asked, running his fingers through her hair, sending distracting shivers down her
neck.

She smiled at the chills he gave
her. She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted, wrapping her arms
tighter around his neck. “I don’t even know what I’m talking about,” she
whispered. “This is happening so fast.”

“I know,” he whispered, resting his
forehead against hers. A warmer smile than she’d ever seen grace his face
spread across his lips as she reached up and kissed him again.

He sighed under her kiss and their
mutual thoughts entwined themselves around each other. The effect was electric
and a relief all at once. Everything seemed to fall into place as the façade
was finally torn down between them.

She pulled away from him then and
smiled.

“Shall we go inside?” he asked
quietly.

She blushed.
They’re going to be
able to tell.

They already know,
he
thought back and smiled at her, stroking her cheek.
They are going to be
relieved.

She grinned sheepishly at him and
nodded. “Sure,” she whispered and took his hand.

He glanced down at her hand in his
and both marveled at the naturalness of the action. Hers was soft and strong in
his as they turned to go back to the house the “old fashioned” way: strolling
at a casual pace.

They started towards the door,
flipping off lights along the way.

When the last light was turned out,
she turned to him. Her half-human, half-vampire eyes could see him perfectly in
the dim light.

“Come here,” she murmured.

Sophie leaned against the wall and
pulled him towards herself. He pressed his body against hers and she was
overcome with emotions and foreign thoughts as their lips met again.

The heat rose between them in the
confined, dark underground passageway before he smiled against her lips.

“What?” She asked.

“They are waiting for us,” he
replied. “Can’t you hear them?”

“I was trying not to,” she
admitted.  
Fine…if we have to.

For now, we must,
was his
silent reply.

He took her hand again and led her
to the door where he pushed a button to open it. They were assaulted by the
fading sunset that shone directly into the path of the doorway.

They stepped out and with a quick
turn and swift fingers, Alexander typed a code into the keypad and the door
shut inaudibly. He looked down at her and smiled contently before they began
again for the house.

“Wow,” Sophie whispered in
amazement.

“What?” Alexander asked.

She stopped in her tracks and
looked at him. He watched her calmly, waiting for her to speak.

“I’ve never been so aware of my
surroundings. I feel the, oh how do I explain it? I feel the
urge
to
look around me and to check my surroundings. I don’t ever do that,” she
explained, compelled to check the shadows with a quick sweep of her eye.

He chuckled under his breath.

“Is that you?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Wow,” she said to herself again. “So
that’s
what Catherina was talking about.”

“When was she talking about this?”

Sophie shook her head dismissively.
“I misspoke. She didn’t
talk
about it; I was reading her memoirs, or
diary, or whatever, in the library the other day. She wrote about the exchange
of thoughts between her and Dante.”

“Ah,” he replied and then gently
pulled her towards the house.

“That’s wild,” she whispered to
herself, marveling at her new discovery and following him inside.

Chapter 15

Present Day—Romania

The queen sat on her tall
throne, her thick black robes flowing like water down the sides of the golden
seat, with a hint of her royal blue gowns peaking from underneath.

“I await your reports,”
her frigid voice called to no one and everyone at once.

There was no need for
introductions; they knew their place and knew the order which the queen would
have them respond. They did her bidding automatically and without question.

“From Eastern Europe, my
queen,” a male in a gruff but faintly metallic Russian accent responded with a
bow, “we have no news to report. Two of the covens have grown in size:
Vladimir’s in the Ukraine and Annika’s in Germany. There is no activity of the
others
within our jurisdiction, my queen, and the situation seems peaceful within our
borders.” He bowed once more.

“Thank you, Konstantin. That
is a relief,” the queen replied and looked to his cohorts who flanked him.

With a bow, the male to
Konstantin’s right began, “Business reports are well.” He informed her of their
recent acquisition of a fifty-one percent shareholding majority in a popular
German automotive company, adding significantly to the Council’s monetary funds
and sphere of influence.

The queen’s Machiavellian
smile spread at Varro’s report. Wilhelm subsequently stepped forward to report
that the Council now had the ear of two members of the German Bundestag. The
queen’s pleasure multiplied at the news.

Dismissing them with a
pleased air, she turned to her next group of sycophants and one by one, the
twelve groups of three reported the progress, the acquisitions, the deaths, and
the battles of their regions. The Middle Eastern Councilors were busy stirring
unrest in the desert and the South American representatives were spreading the
ideals of socialism in efforts to exact more control over the irritating human
population; Adonis and his cohorts were peacefully reigning over the
Mediterranean. There had been some unrest in Asia: Daisuke reported that the
challenge with the
others
—the hybrid kind, who are not human, but not
quite vampire—had been subdued in northern Japan without much effort and very few
losses.

“So, it seems we have
trouble only with our American enemies,” the queen concluded at the meeting’s
end, turning her harsh glare at the final three.

An unsettled quiet fell
over the room as Cusick, Sloane, and Bennett held their breath.

“Let us hope that your
Jacques rids us of this irritant,” she replied in warning before standing
swiftly and floating out of the room.

The eyes of the other
Councilors looked on their American associates with wariness and scorn.