Eternal Eden (36 page)

I didn’t answer immediately.  His eyes suddenly widened as he looked at me in disbelief. “Did you think for even one moment I didn’t feel the same?”

“No, that wasn’t it,” I assured him. “It’s just . . .” I stammered, as I gazed into the beauty and paleness of the very reason for my reservations. “You
know
why, William,” I whispered.

And the reason lay in my eyes as well—the pale blue reason.

“Oh, Bryn—I, more than most, know the laws we Immortals must follow, and the punishment dealt out to those you disobey, and I would—without a moment’s hesitation—go against this most ancient of Immortal codes for the basic right for any kind of being to be with the one they want more than anything, love beyond reason, and would happily give their life for.”

His speech left me wordless, and the pace at which it flowed made it seem as though he’d spent large sums of time contemplating this topic.

“I want you. I love you. I’d give my life for you. If this is truly what you want”—he smiled mischievously—“believe me . . . I want this even more.”

My face flustered, as did every surface inch of my body. While I hadn’t really doubted it, it was still a relief to know William wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

He leaned back down over me and laid one hand on my hip, as if testing the waters to confirm if his assumption was correct. His beautiful face leaned cautiously over mine, and his lips parted faintly as they prepared to cover mine.

I don’t know where the otherworldly strength came from, but I somehow managed to turn my head from his advance. The knowledge of what I’d just turned away from singed my tongue, throat, and lips—leaving an acrid taste behind.

“No.” I had to keep my eyes closed or else my strength would falter. “Please wait.”

I felt the air stir from the rapidity of his retreat, and I cursed myself again when what-could-have-been flashed through my mind.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his breathing labored. “I misunderstood.”

“No!” My eyes shot open. “That’s not it.”

He was far enough away that I could allow my eyes to look upon him without giving into temptation. “I can’t imagine you not existing. I couldn’t bear what would happen to you if they found out,”—my voice waivered from the very thought—“and there would be no way to hide it.” My hands grazed over his eyelids, imagining the beautiful sapphire that would replace the present hue if we allowed ourselves the full expression of our love.

 “Do you think I could imagine you not existing so much easier than you can me?” he asked, shaking his head. “I would never allow something to harm you, let alone threaten your very existence.”

I looked at him speculatively. What had he just been endorsing when his hands and lips reached for me?

Noting my confusion, he responded, “I have a plan in place, of course.”

“A plan?” I didn’t hide the dubiousness heavy in my voice. What plan would allow what we wanted—without a Council’s blessing of a Unity—without the sudden, severe condemnation that would follow?

He didn’t appear affected by my doubt-filled tone. “If this is what
you
want, this is what
I
want, and if this is what you want
tonight
”—he shrugged, as if the answer was simply obvious—“we run away tomorrow morning.”

“We run away?” I annunciated each word slowly, so I could register longer over what he’d just said.

“But your family, the mission you’ve invested years into . . .” It was too flabbergasting that he was so ready to give up everything he had to be with me.

“My family would understand,” he reassured. “They’re fully aware of my feelings for you and what I would give to be with you, and as for the mission”—his tone turned matter-of-fact—“the reason I took it no longer exists.”

“Why did you take it?” I questioned.

“As an escape from the watchful eyes of my family so I could find you, or, if my father was right”—he set his jaw and paused—“that I would never find you, then I knew the danger of infiltrating John’s Inheritor Alliance would someday result in death, and that would be better than the pain of never being with you.”

He reached his hand toward my arm, hesitating before touching it, and when I didn’t flinch away, he placed his fingers against my skin and brushed them up and down my arm. “It’s better than perfect—if there is such a thing—being here with you . . . loving you and having you love me back. It somehow makes the dreams of you that sustained me all these years seem so inadequate,” he whispered, looking at my arm where his fingers continued to brush. “They didn’t do you any justice to how I imagined you would look, and how this would feel.” A surge of electricity ran from his fingers through my arm, proving his point.

His face turned serious, and his hand tightened around my arm as he leaned his face closer to mine. The stare of his eyes was all-encompassing. “Is this what you want?”

And while there was no enticement or hint of seduction in his tone, I knew exactly what he was asking. I didn’t wait for my mind to object, or my body to course through the checklist of overreactions. My response was out before the air had a chance to cool from his heated question.

“Yes.”

And then his lips found their way back to mine, smothering them with the release of the restraint he’d built to protect us. A moment later, my mouth responded in equal. He sighed when I parted his mouth and touched the tip of my tongue to his. He rolled on top of me, holding his weight so as not to crush me, but I wanted his body crushing against me—I craved it.

The combination of William’s sigh, and his body fully elongated over mine, ignited the controlled fire inside me into an out-of-control inferno. My body burned for his, and I felt his reciprocation. I wrapped my arms around him; one running through his hair, trying to pull him closer, and the other gliding over the undulating smoothness of his back.

His mouth moved from mine to brush over the skin of my neck—I arched it closer, enticing his lips in their journey. I marveled at the passion ignited in him, and I was more in love with him than I’d thought there room for. 

My body, mind, and soul were fully consumed and used up by my insatiable desire for him, so I don’t know where the faint glimmer of anguish came from, but as his lips progressed and our passions increased, the glimmer grew until it was casting a definite shadow on my euphoria.
  He reached his hand down to caress my thigh, slowly making its timid way up, skimming under the linen of my nightgown.  His fingers trembled when they reached my hip, and now—to add to the shocking electricity—was a tingling sensation concentrating over several locations on my body.

When his warm, quaking fingers hooked under the side of the satin material that I’d strategically exchanged for the usual cotton, the ray of anguish exploded and overtook everything with the intensity of an atom bomb.

“No, William.” My voice sounded like a scream in the sanctuary of the silence that held us. “Please stop.”

His hands were off me in an instant, and his body was a flash as he righted himself, coming to a standing position beside the bed, as concern, confusion, and remorse congealed in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I can’t do this right now.” I hoped the lie would not be detected by him, but his erratic breathing and worried pacing seemed to take up most of his concentration. The muscles beneath his skin tightened and defined under the pressure of his expanding lungs, and my body ached to have his next to mine again; but I couldn’t overcome the debilitating vision that had shown itself to me.

That vision being William’s life being taken from him—phased from eternal Immortal to decaying death—and the knowledge that my selfishness and desire had destined this fate. I could not allow this picture singed into my mind to ever become a reality.

I’d seen John and the Council surrounding his body, pulling the life from him without reservation, as his beautiful face became expressionless and lost forever to the clutches of death. There was no pleasure or desire that would ever be worth chancing this nightmare becoming reality. I would protect him at all cost, against all that threatened his existence—including myself.

He continued pacing; his hands on his hips and his face pulled into hard lines. He finally spoke, “I fully understand and appreciate you not being ready for this.” His pacing slowed, but his breathing did not. “But you must promise me Bryn, you must swear to me”—he kneeled beside me, commanding me with his eyes—“that you are not doing this because you are afraid of the Council or what they would try to do to me.”

He looked like he was fighting reaching out to me, still not sure if it was appropriate given my latest reaction, so I reached for his hand and pulled it to me.

He continued, “We should be free to live our lives as we choose. If you want me—in any way—we shouldn’t restrain ourselves because of some archaic law.” His fingers wrapped tightly around my hand. “You promise me right now you are not letting this come between us.” He didn’t blink or move while he waited for my response, ready to call my bluff for what it was if he sensed even a hint of deceit in my answer.

I’d not fooled him.

He’d felt the response and longing I had for him, and the liberation of one who knew there was no fault in what they were partaking. He’d felt my love for him as much as I’d felt his for me, and he wasn’t going to make it so easy for me to lie—but I had to convince him.

There was no way I could now enjoy this most sacred of experiences, when the gruesome picture of him falling into shadow played on repeat before my eyes. I would not allow this picture—nor the even more horrifying potential reality of this coming true—to taint my right to the paradise that should be mine when joined with him fully.

My eyes locked on his, and I felt my resolve return in heightened quantities as I answered, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a horrible tease tonight, and I’ll never forgive myself for the agony I can see I’ve caused you, but I’m truly not ready.” I held his unblinking stare and attempted a coy smile. “Not
yet
, anyways.”

His eyes stayed fixed on mine long after, still trying to find some fissure of weakness, some hint of a lie; but apparently finding none, his face softened.

“There’s no need to apologize. This has been the best night of my life,” he said, and then flashed his mischievous smile. “Up to this point, at least.”

He’d believed me. I couldn’t allow a sigh of relief, but I celebrated the success from within. I’d done my part to keep him safe—free from reproach or conviction.

“I’m in no hurry and will never pressure you.” He pulled my hand to him and kissed it. “It’s more than I could have hoped for, just to have you reciprocate my love for you.”

He looked at me for awhile, his smile never fading, and then stood up from his kneel. “I’ll let you rest. You look comfortable there, so I’ll take Patrick’s room for the night.” He turned to step towards the open door, which had served as the portico to a night of awe and almost realized perfection.

My hand reached for his as it departed from me. “Please don’t go,” I pleaded. I slid to the far side of the bed and patted the empty space beside me. “Just because I’m not ready for all the better, more pleasurable uses of a bed”—I flashed a knowing smile at him—“doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to spend the night in your arms.”

I looked at him, waiting for his response—hoping he’d choose to stay, but understanding if the torture of unrealized hopes tormented him beyond repair when he was forced to lie quietly, and fully clothed, beside me.

His eyes flickered, and he leapt onto the space I’d created for him. He had me in his arms quicker than my overjoyed laugh could emit, and a moment later he drew the disheveled comforter over our intertwined bodies.

 I rested on my side with my back against him, and found a deep pleasure in feeling the more relaxed, steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, and the warm, soft breath on my neck. Where these sensations would have earlier served as crushing boulders to my resolve—having now seen with amazing realness what would happen if I allowed what I wanted most—the satisfaction of being with him in any way possible was perfectly manageable.

When I felt his breathing and heartbeat return to a semi-normal rate, I pressed my leg back and intertwined it between his. I giggled with pleasure when I heard the instant and overwhelming jump in both the formerly normalized physical reactions.

“Temptress,” he whispered accusingly, not missing my enjoyment in his torture.

“Two can play at this game, though,” he whispered, with definite enticement this time into my ear, pricking up millions of goose-bumps on my body.

And our perfect night continued—restraining ourselves from what our bodies would one day fully enjoy if we both had our way, and the universe dealt us a generous hand.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MORTAL STORIES

I awoke the next morning to the sound of a percolating coffee maker and the scent of the smoky-sweet liquid brewing in it. William was no longer lying beside me, but in his place was a folded paper crane. In between its wings was a separate piece of paper containing his note;

The guys got me this morning and wouldn’t take no for an answer. We’re out surfing. I’ll be back soon, but wish it was even sooner.