Eternal Eden (35 page)

“Please, Bryn.” He pulled me tight against him, my back pressed so firmly against his chest I could feel the frantic trilling of his heart, and it sickened me that it was not racing due to the all out sprint he’d just run, but because I’d confused him.

His heavy breath raced next to my ear. “I will never force you to tell me something you do not wish to. Please understand that.”

Why had I acted so idiotically? Of course I knew he would never do that. It could have been as simple as me telling him I’d rather not talk about this right now, and gone right back to lounging in his arms and gazing at the stars above.

I’d ruined the moment when we were finally alone, and there was no taking it back now. It made me feel even worse that he was acting so apologetic, as if he was to blame for my lunacy.

“But, please”—he turned me around so I could face him and witness the sincerity on his expression—“don’t make me walk back without being beside you, holding your hand.” He lowered one arm from my waist to draw my hand to his lips. “I’ve lived for two hundred years with only the imagination of what it would be like to touch this,”—he moved my hand over his mouth, kissing each knuckle—“to hold this . . .”

When my breath became weak, he lowered it from his lips, but kept it firmly in his hand. “Please allow me to escort you back to the house?”

The fact that he felt he had to ask formed a lump in my throat, making it impossible to respond, so I nodded my head and turned my face from him so he couldn’t see the tears forming.

He remained silent the entire journey back, content in just holding my hand in his. There was only the glow of one porch light as we approached the cottage. It appeared everyone else had already retired to their respective rooms for the night, tired of waiting for our return.

Before pulling open the slider, William smiled at me with such rawness in his eyes, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to bear it. Right before I threw my arms around him to beg his forgiveness and tell him about the torment that flamed within me, he raised his finger to his lips, and motioned with his head in the direction of the earlier brutalized loveseat where Patrick now lay.

He looked to be fast asleep, and his elongated frame hung ridiculously over the ends of the tiny couch. He wore nothing except for a pair of bunched-up boxers and was snoring with the expertise of an old man.

William guided me through the dark, quiet kitchen, and back to one of the closed doors. The door creaked open and he motioned me in, whispering, “It’s not much, but the bed’s quite comfortable and I promise Cora put fresh linens on the bed . . .  so no need to worry about Patrick’s foul stench awaiting you between the sheets.” He attempted a smile, but it fell short. He looked positively lost.

I was a loathsome creature for creating so much unnecessary stress in his life.

“Can I get you anything?” He squeezed the hand of mine he still held in his. I shook my head and tried to keep my eyes from his so he could not detect the glossiness that was inundating them. I just needed the night to clear my thoughts, and then I would explain everything to him in the morning.

“Good night.” He kissed my hand. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.” His voice was so filled with a mixture of love and sorrow, I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking a quick glance at his face. Even in his sorrow he was stunning. I murmured a soft good night before he shut the door behind me, leaving me alone to contemplate the insanity of my actions.

The distress I’d witnessed on his face tore at me, and I longed with every fiber of my being to throw open the door that connected our rooms, and cement myself to him forever; begging his forgiveness with each new breath I took. Yet I couldn’t, because I knew my weakness and desire for him would ultimately lead down a path that could destroy us both.

I drudged over to where Cora had placed my bag on the antique bureau opposite the sleigh bed, and pulled out the short, linen nightgown I’d packed with such high hopes for tonight. I peeled off the jeans and sweater I was wearing, and pulled the nightgown over my head. I could feel the electricity emitted from the man just one room away from me, and I could hear his healthy heartbeat. Its beat sounded like a siren’s song, beckoning to me with spellbinding force.

I sat on the side of the bed, farthest from the door adjoining our rooms, and closed my eyes. I focused on inhaling through my nose, and then exhaling through my mouth. I focused my mind on nothing but the continuous intake and outtake of air, but I could not clear my mind of him.

He was more essential than the air I’d needed as a Mortal, and the air I now used to calm myself; or the blood my heart pumped. He was the essence of my soul, and to try to make him disappear from my thoughts was impossible.

As if confirming my epiphany, I heard his breathing intensify in the room beside me. Before I made a cognizant choice, I was across the room, placing my hand on the doorknob and opening the portal for which I knew could hold both unimaginable wonder and inescapable punishment. The punishment seemed insignificant at that moment though, and paled in comparison to the need to be with him as fully as tonight would allow.

The plank wood door creaked open, and I was sure he’d be alert and staring in my direction when I peeked my head around the door. To my surprise, once I edged through the open door into his room, he was lying still in bed with his eyes shut tight. The solo white sheet that covered his body was pulled to the bottom of his stomach, and the moonlight shining in through the tiny window behind him cast its pale light upon the bare, rippled planes of his upper body.

The rushed inhalation and exhalation of his chest positioned the rolling muscles below his skin in intricate and appealing patterns, and I could have stayed there all night admiring the beauty unveiling before my eyes, except the desire to reach out and touch it overcame me, so I took a step towards him.

The floorboards groaned beneath my foot and I froze, waiting for his eyes to shoot open. They remained shut, and the distance I’d closed between us allowed me a more investigative look at his face. It was pressed together in anguish, as lines of sorrow rolled between his forehead, his eyes, and then his neck. I guessed at the reason for his distraction and pain.

He was seeing a Foretelling—some Mortal’s death was flashing through his mind, sending him into the blackness he dreaded, yet had come to accept as part of his duty in the Immortal world. The horrors reflecting on his face had me reaching for my stomach, trying to steady myself from falling beneath the pain I felt seeing him this way. I remembered something he’d told me just an hour ago, and quicker than I could contemplate, I whispered his name—praying it would release him from the blackness that looked to be suffocating him.

His eyes flashed open, and he blinked several times at the ceiling, as if clearing his vision. Then he turned his head to me and his eyes lit up. “Bryn,” he murmured, his face flushed with happiness.

His eyes held me captive. “It’s even better than I imagined,” he whispered, as a wide smile crept over his face.

My eyes strained to keep away from his bare chest, as I inquired, “What is?”

He leaned up onto one elbow. “Being brought out of the darkness by the
real
you.”

 I fidgeted from the words he’d just said, and the way they filled my heart beyond capacity, but mainly I fidgeted because of why I’d entered his room. I was glad I’d interrupted his nightmarish vision, but I needed to explain something to him, and knew if I didn’t tonight while my resolve was weakened, I might never.

I stared out through the picture window above his bed, and concentrated on the shimmering stars above as I delivered my message. “You know how I said I didn’t want to tell you what was bothering me tonight?” I kept my eyes on the stars, too much a coward to look at him, but I saw him nod his head.

“Yes, I remember.” The words came out slow and deliberate, as if they were traversing over eggshells.

“I don’t think I can find the right words to explain to you, but”—my fingers fretted over the hem of my nightgown, but using up my last reserves of courage I forced my eyes to meet his—“can I
show
you?”

The puzzled expression left his face as it went contemplative for one moment—looking as if he was thinking through something at lightning fast speed—and then he closed his eyes and exhaled.

When his eyes opened, they penetrated the physical control of my bodily functions: causing my Immortal legs to weaken, my lungs to labor to keep my short breathes coming, and of course . . . my heart raced with such acceleration it would have certainly killed me if I’d been Mortal. His eyes burned with a beauty and a need I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand.

“Please show me.”

I crossed the small room to his bed in three deliberate steps. His eyes never left mine, their beauty and need growing stronger as I got closer. He was still resting on his side, leaned up on one elbow, and if my eyes weren’t so content with the union of being with him right now, they would have professed their new religion to gazing in wonderment and memorizing every line, plane, and muscle of his upper body. His eyes held me though . . . at least for the moment.

I sat timidly on the side of his bed, and with less timidity, laid my body down beside his so I was facing him. Our heads shared the same pillow where our consumed eyes met, now only inches apart. I heard the acceleration of his breathing before I saw the visible signs of his chest falling harder and quicker above the pressing of his lungs, and I finally allowed my eyes to search over the dimly lit planes of his chest.

I reached one hand forward when my eyes could bear gazing no longer, and rested my palm on the area above where his heart was, fingering the skin around it until I felt goose-bumps appear. I let my hand lie still on his chest, reveling in the strength and speed of the blood pumping organ beneath the surface—its speed nearly matched my own. I could hear the pieces coming together in William’s mind, now understanding my explanation, but he did nothing to stop it.

When my hand was satisfied with the pounding of his heart, I traced my fingers down the deep crease in his chest and followed it down to the hard, etched planes of his stomach. I stared at William’s body in front of me—the rolling muscles beneath his flawless skin . . . like velvet covering hardened lava—and I knew I could never tire of staring at him.

While my fingers traced the rectangular muscles of his stomach, I saw his eyes close, as if no longer able to withstand the power of the current running through our bodies. My own hand was ablaze with the electricity of our energies colliding with such ignited might.

He trembled when my fingers reached the bottom muscles of his stomach, so I drew my hand from his stomach and ran it up his body until it rested on the side of his blushing cheek. I looked away regretfully from the perfection of his body, but it was forgotten once I looked in his eyes. The fire in them before had turned to a blaze—an unstoppable, manic blaze that could only be put out one way.

I smiled before I pressed my lips to his. He responded to the shyness of mine with his own apprehension. I ran my hand from his cheek to the back of his neck, interlacing my fingers through his long tufts of hair. In stride, his hand cupped behind my neck and he drew me tighter to him. Our lips responded simultaneously with the forced closeness, and soon they were moving over one another with strength; the prelude of shyness long forgotten.

I laid flat against the bed and pulled him with me so his upper half was positioned over me, and his lips reacted with the same intensity mine did at the volatile colliding of our bodies against one another.

Abruptly, he pulled his body back from me. The torture of the separation was physically painful, and I saw from his grimace that he felt the pain as well. Our labored breathing did not help the pain of separation.

“What are you—”

He cut me off before I could get my question out. “Is this what you’ve been having such a hard time with?” he asked, motioning between the two of us. “Is this what you didn’t want to talk with me about?”

The forced air sliding quickly in and out through his parted mouth sent a new stab of pain through me. I nodded my head and answered, “Yes.”

His eyes were gentle. “Why?”

“It’s hard to explain . . .”
That’s why I wanted to show you
, I thought. “It’s just that being with you in even the smallest physical way is sometimes hard to bear.”

I looked to the side and began tracing through the ripples of the sheet. “Even the smallest touch is torture, and then anything more”—my eyes widened and I sucked in a large breath—“is like some rare kind of sadistic torture.”

I saw him trying to smother the smile that was forming.

“Listen to you,” he said proudly, as he covered my hand that continued to trace the sheet with his. “You’re explaining this very well, and
believe
me”—he raised one brow for emphasis—“I know exactly what you’re talking about. The intensity of something as simple as this”—he led my eyes down to where his hand held mine—“is so perfect and ignites a longing that is difficult,”—he chuckled, tilting his head to the side—“if not impossible, to withstand.”

I nodded my head fervently, ruffling the pillow and causing it to swirl his scent into my nose. He’d said everything I’d been trying to . . . with far more eloquence.

“Why . . .” He raised his hand and affectionately cupped my chin while tracing the bottom line of my lips. “If you don’t mind me asking, didn’t you tell me earlier—or show me—how you felt?” he whispered, winking at me. “It’s obviously caused you a great deal of discomfort.”