Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (36 page)

“I tell you that it won’t work the way you want. That one simple act will grandly surpass the countless women I’d fucked over the centuries, as you put it. I have been an empty shell. Before I ever got a glimpse of you in a vision, my sole purpose in life was an unsatisfiable urge to conquer the entire world and everything in it. And I’ve done that spectacularly. Yet, the world was not enough; the void in me was a black hole, never sated, never replete, and never satisfied. Sex was a pleasant diversion, it had been the break from conquering the world into conquering the female body, for
days
at a time,” he says and my eyebrows shot up in surprise of his candid acknowledgement.

“Am I another one of your conquests?” I ask in a whisper.

“No,” he says giving me a bitter smile. I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “For a change, you’re the one who conquered
me
before we even met. I didn’t know I was drifting in the universe, incomplete; you were my missing piece. As soon as you came into my dying vision, the gaping black hole inside me closed; somehow it vanished completely as if it had never been there. For the first time in my life, the next thing I had in my sight wasn’t about conquering. I wanted you to want
me
. I wanted you to complete
me
, this man!” he says poking into his chest with his index finger. “Not the world conquering emperor, the commander of the most fearless and determined army that ever existed or the son of Zeus.
Me
. I wanted to do whatever it took to get there; even if I had to submit
to you
. But then, Marcus knew this, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize your life. He bonded us, but without the possibility of us getting in a relationship. That was why I was devoid of this insatiable feeling I now have for you for many centuries.”

“It may still be compulsory, Alex, something designed by Marcus,” I say hanging my head down
, finally voicing one of my fears.

“Does what I feel for you count for anything at all? I know compulsion. This isn’t it!” he utters exasperated, making a fist and hitting his heart with a thud.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” I add quickly and quickly change the topic to divert his exasperation. “Didn’t Marcus think that if he prevented you and me from getting together, we each might like someone else?” Clearly, Alex did find many women, and a wife among them that he bonded with. Then again, I must have met someone else as well. I remember vague bits of dreams and nightmares I’ve had day after day in recent weeks even though I didn’t allow myself to think about them. But I remember the smoky masculine voice of a man; a worried face in the dark. I’m exceedingly sure that it wasn’t Alex. My nightmares come in such a strong flood that moments after I wake up, I feel I’m still in it, unable to distinguish dream from reality. As the effects of it wear off, I generally don’t remember the content. But I always remember the horror it induced in me making me fear and hate the experience so much for having made me feel like a freak, all I usually want to do is to forget that it ever occurred and forcefully cling to my normal life, separating myself from my nightly invader. The only residual remembrances I have of them that seeped through my effort to forget are momentary flashes of visions of places, some faces, the name
Four Winds
, and now I remember a man’s name: Alexander. Not until he shared his memory, I had not even considered or even wanted to make my nightmares make sense. I must have relied on Alex at all times. In one of the nightmares, I remember calling for Alexander for help. He was there for me, trying to save me from something I can’t remember. Aside from the echoes of his name in my mind, everything else about him is so hazy like a thick fog that is refusing to dissipate. Alex lifts my face up with his index finger to make me look at him.

“I can’t talk to you about your past, Elissa. Not without harming you.”

“But, you couldn’t possibly hurt me by sharing something about my past. You managed to share your memory--” I say but he cuts me off.

“Yes,
my
memory about
my
past, and even the existence of a glimpse of you in a vision put forth the danger of you not coming back. You must remember your memories on your own.”

“I remember some things,” I say softly and there is a little glimmer of hope ri
sing in him evidenced as his breath hitches. He’s pure attention; the restless energy vibrating through him is carefully controlled and directed at me with his intense gaze.

“I remember the big house,
The Four Winds
. I remember the wood paneling in my library in the house, and the constant ticking of the carved walnut Swiss clock hanging on that wall behind my chaise. I think it was purchased in Paris. I have momentary flash visions of Paris and London though I’ve never been there before. And I…” I say stopping, and Alex cocks his head to side, looking at me curiously. The anxiety building in me is so thick; I can taste the heady sensation. A memory I have not allowed to remember myself comes rushing in vivid colors. “I remember the Right Bank in Paris,” I whisper. “A rainy cold night and pitch darkness. Not even a street lamp was lit on that night. I remember getting wet to the bone in the rain… Chilled, shivering and running away from something or someone,” I murmur in a rush wincing trying to remember through the thick murk of time. “I can’t remember exactly. It’s too hazy…” I whisper slowly shaking my head. “It was a nightmare.” I say shrugging, and for the first time I don’t feel like a freak for talking about a dream I’ve had. Alex nods, highly conscious, with pure attention to capture every word I’m uttering. The energy oozing out of him is palpable yet he manages to exhibit calm and an inscrutable face, coaxing me with a gentle whisper of his lips.

“I don’t know if it happened, or
if I just dreamt about something I’ve read, or seen in a movie. But how could it be unreal? Because I can still feel the bone chilling cold,” I say as I wrap my arms around my torso, my hands running up and down on my arms to ward off the creeping chill emanating from within. I try to remember the nightmare from the hazy fog of my memory buried deep in my consciousness. “I think I was crying… I ran westward by
La Rive Droite
, and there was a man running after me pleading with me…” I whisper. I furrow my brows thinking hard, trying to remember. The memory is very fuzzy. “It was a dark haired tall man who was worried about me, calling my name. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember the tone of his voice. It was full of genuine concern for me, trying to calm me down. I was very upset, hurt even… I remember the feeling, but not the reason behind it,” I say shivering.

“That man… It wasn’t you, though,” I say looking up at Alex. “It was someone else. I’m sure of it. I don’t think I would run from you,” I say ironically considering my current intentions. “It was another man who knew me well,” I say and he stiffens like a rock. His face darkens, his lips draw tightly closed, pupils dilate. “Then I saw the man’s horror struck face in the dark, not because of me, but I think he’d seen someone else he didn’t expect. His wavy dark hair was wet in the rain, still in a ponytail except the escaped tendrils on his forehead.
” I pause for a moment trying to remember.

“
Then I remember seeing
her
, appearing out of nowhere,” I say significantly. “I don’t remember the woman’s name. But I’d never forget her face. A mature woman who should be slow to catch up to me, but she was faster than he; even faster than I was! She grabbed me by the hair,” I say and my hand absently reaches up to the back of my head, rubbing with the ghost of the pain. “She was inhumanly strong,” I murmur looking ahead, but not seeing. I’m too lost in the memory. “I remember her saying with repugnance,” I utter as if my synapses that have been unused for centuries have started firing up, my voice is of a stranger’s making Alex shudder, “ ‘
unworthy of my son and unsuitable of our station! You are a danger to our kind and his future!’”
then my voice changes back to my own, “and she pushed me into the river with blindingly fast speed. I didn’t even have time to scream, but I heard the agony in his voice crying out ‘Nooo!’ He didn’t dive after me, something, or someone, perhaps it was that woman who prevented him from coming after me… I don’t know how, because I can still feel his struggle and pain to break through something,” I say absently. Alex swallows.

“Weird nightmare, huh?” I ask, shrugging.

“It would be if it wasn’t real,” he murmurs.

“You think it was real?” I ask, almost hopefully.
Maybe, just maybe I am capable of remembering my past on my own. Hope blossoms. Alex raises his eyebrows.

“I remember water being cold, and the current strong,” he says. I inhale sharply, forcefully even; I look up to him, and feel the heat between us, the electricity, and his magnetic draw. I find myself cupping his face with my hands as I sit on my knees and kiss him. My reaction surprises him
. Hell, it surprises me, too, but it only takes him a few seconds to catch up and reciprocate with a carnal groan. When we break our kiss minutes later, we’re both breathless.

“I don’t remember the rest. All my other nightmares are about the
Four Winds
. Yet, I can never remember them. Just the immense fear certain names trigger in me, and the need to protect something. What it is, I can’t tell…” I whisper and he looks at me his eyes softened, hopeful even.

“You have to keep in mind that for the last few years Sarah made me feel that my dreams were crazy, a product of a psychological problem. So, I did everything I c
ould not to have the nightmares, and I counted it a blessing when I didn’t remember the content of them. But this dream… nightmare,” I correct, “is the only one that repeats so often that I remember some of the details. The only other vague memory I have of another nightmare, involves you. Well, at least I now think it was you,” I say, and his breath hitches. “I remember reading in the library, the constant ticking of the Swiss clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock… But then something happens because I remember being terrified and calling out to you to help me. I don’t remember what frightened me; I don’t remember anything about the context, but I remember urgently needing your help… I never made the connection until now, but it must have been you…” I say stopping and looking up at him. “Because,” I start slowly, my gaze never leaving him, “because I remember calling for ‘Alexander.’ I guess it’s possible to have another person named Alexander, or that it was simply a dream! I do however just remember the intense fear, despair… not for myself,” I say shaking my head. “The desperation was palpable and the echoes of my voice calling out to you are now coming back to me but I don’t remember anything after that. Everything goes to darkness…no other memory,” I say shrugging. An involuntary shuddering breath goes through him. A pregnant silence fills the room. He’s the first one to break it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks softly.

“That how grateful I am for you,” I say, and his jaw clenches immediately, eyes darken and his hands are fisted automatically to my response. “You taught me to feel normal within the norms of Nephilim. Not to be afraid of remembering my dreams which I haven’t allowed myself to even think about them for fear of being labeled crazy,” I say in one fast breath.

“I don’t want you to feel thankful!” he says combatively; his body is immediately tense, crackling with edgy, restless energy, ready to strike
an invisible enemy.

“Why not? You freed my mind, opened me up, made me believe in what I didn’t understand…and…”I say pausing, “also made me experience pleasures I never thought w
ere humanly possible—“ I whisper blushing but he cuts me off. I want to get this out of the way; I may not have a chance to thank him. And when I leave, I will crave his touch, his sexual magnetism, his insanely passionate energy, his caressing voice, I will miss all of him with ferocious intensity.

“You’re thanking me for sex?” he asks incredulous, searching my face. “And what, you wish to thank me for a good time, and move on to someone else?” he
utters with hurt anger. Oh, no. Now he thinks I didn’t like the experience!

“Well… uhm, I really liked what we did! It was very good, nice, wonderful… great, just great!” I whisper quickly, wringing my fingers in embarrassment.

“All my favorite adjectives…just good, nice, wonderful, great… about what we did,” he says sarcastically. “Why don’t we call it what it is? Intense fucking sessions.”

“But, I meant to compliment you,” I murmur looking down.

“Can you wound my ego anymore?”

“Maybe I should get ready for tonight’s cocktail party…” I say rising, not wanting him to know how desperately I would miss him. He follows suit; the intensity of his penetrating gaze is fixed on me once again.

“We have nearly three hours, and Elissa. You’ve opened the subject; we’re walking through it,” he says and I look up at him, running out of excuses. His proximity is intoxicating, magnetic, pulling me to him almost mindlessly. He leans down and whispers into my ear; he is only a breath away from me, but doesn’t touch me.

“What is it you want Elissa? What would keep you here with me? Clearly, what I have revealed to you today didn’t make any difference. My fucking sanity is about to part me, because you won’t do what you are asked to do to keep you alive. You have the upper hand here; name your terms...”
How could he possibly know what I’m thinking? Does he have mind reading abilities?