The Eye of the Wolf (27 page)

Mikayla’s
eyes flicked over the rose and then back to his face. His face was lined with
grief. Under his eyes were deep circles and smudges, as if he hadn’t slept
well. Part of her felt sorry for him, knowing he had lost a member of his
family, but the other part of her smothered that pity and stoked the anger that
boiled within her breast. She left the rose where it lay and turned back to the
sea. “You haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

Will
reached across the table and lightly took her hand in his own. It was warm,
soft, full of life. She jerked it back without a look and settled her hands in
her lap. He frowned. “I came to see you. I’ve missed you.” He stated it simply,
hoping again, that simple words would wind through to her heart just as it had
that one night when he had held her close to the first rays of dawn.

Mikayla’s
snort was her only answer. She kept her eyes trained on the waves crashing in
the brilliant glare of the sun.

She
stood from her seat and moved to the railing of the deck. Her eyes remained
focused on the sea, but in reality, she saw nothing. She didn’t see the colors
warming with the day. She didn’t see the cheerful sailboats skirting the waves.
She didn’t see the children playing along the golden sand further down. She saw
nothing because her senses were too full of him: his scent, his touch, his
laugh, his eyes, his kiss. He was everywhere inside of her. She wanted to weep
because of it, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.
So instead she focused her eyes on the sea beyond and gripped the railing
tight, barely feeling the splinter that sliced her palm.

“Look
at me, Mikayla, and tell me what you are thinking to my face.” Smoothness
floated on the words, but the tension in his body slipped through.

Mikayla
shrugged her shoulders. He was too near. Fear, angry, and grief laced through
her even as her senses flooded with him. She kept her eyes on the water, afraid
that even one look into those depthless gray eyes would weaken her.

Will
stood from his seat and moved behind her. Gently, he laid his hands on her
shoulders. “Mikayla, I care for you. You mean more to me than I ever thought
was possible.”

Mikayla
moved from beneath his hands, stepping away. He was too close; he was too warm,
a warmth she knew she could just melt into if she allowed herself. “It doesn’t
matter what you feel for me. I don’t feel anything for you. I am here to do a
job, which I am going to do.” She looked over at him as he leaned on the
railing, not looking at her. “Which reminds me, the Crown Prince, no, I
apologize, the Dauphin owes me an interview.”

Will
smirked to himself. “I believe I already told you about the Dauphin.” He ran a
hand through his hair, mussing what hadn’t already been mussed by the breeze.
“The Dauphin is a wastral, a party-boy. He cares nothing for the crown of Amor
despite the duty that he was born into. He would like nothing better than to
run off to London, New York, Boston, somewhere other than here and be a
photographer.” He looked up at her. “He would like nothing better than to sail
around the world with a beautiful woman at his side.”

Mikayla
watched him from behind her sunglasses. “I don’t buy it, Your Royal Highness.”

“Stop
calling me that!” Will’s voice rose. He whirled around on her and grabbed her
arms pulling her close. “Stop calling me that. I’m nothing. I’m not His Royal
Highness! I’m not the Dauphin! I’m nothing! I am just a man!” He shook her
slightly before her faint cry of fear broke through the haze of anger and
frustration. Her sunglasses had fallen off and now he could see into that well
of fathomless deep blue. Fear laced with hurt and sadness before the wall built
itself carefully, brick by brick, blocking him out of her soul.

Frustration
swelled anew in him. He crushed her to him, drowning her in a kiss that seared
through his body. All of his anger, sadness, fear, and need melted into that one
kiss and poured into her body. If she wouldn’t see him for who he was, perhaps
she could be reminded of the heat that had joined them. He held her arms pinned
to her body as her pulse jumped across her skin.

Mikayla
fisted her hands at her side and remained impassive to the kiss that threatened
to swamp her in need. She could feel his aggravation, but she knew if she gave
in, she would give in in everything and her heart couldn’t handle the pain that
would inevitably follow. So instead of giving in to the need that fisted itself
in her belly, she stood still, waiting for him to release her.

Will
pulled back from Mikayla and looked into her eyes. They remained an icy blue.
Her face was impassive, almost humored. He growled and let go of her arms with
a slight push that had her stumbling back a few steps. He turned his back on
her and gripped the wooden railing until his knuckles turned white. He released
his breath in a slow whistle, willing his own heart to slow.

Mikayla
licked her bruised lips and held still. She could feel the bruises from his
fingers on her arms developing beneath her skin. She said nothing. The air
crackled between, tension and sparks.

Mikayla
folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the weathered siding of the
house. “You lied to me, Will.”

Will
lifted his head but continued to stare at the ocean. “I didn’t lie to you,
Mikayla, ever.”

Mikayla
shook her head and sighed, her heart heavy in her breast. “You lied to me,
Will, when you didn’t tell me who you were.” She folded her hands primly in
front of her. “You made me into a fool. You knew I might never discover your
true identity.”

Will
turned slowly. She stood, her back against the house that his family had
provided her. She looked small and delicate, as if the slightest breeze could
fracture her into dust. “You aren’t a fool, Mikayla, and I never lied to you
about who I am. If I didn’t tell you about my place in Amor’s history, it is
because you didn’t ask.” When she began to protest, he held up a hand. “You
assumed I was some island schlep with a camera.”

Her
voice was cold as ice. “You owed it to me to tell me the truth. That isn’t
something you hide from someone.”

Will
shook his head. “I owed you nothing, Mikayla, except to help you with your
research and to enjoy your company.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I
never hid it from you; you just never asked.” He paused. When he met her eyes
again, his were honest. “And you’re right, I knew it would be difficult for you
to determine my true role here.”

She
turned her back to him, but stood still. She willed her feet to move forward,
into the house, but something kept her there. Something she didn’t understand.

Will
leaned against the glass of the door and gently turned her face towards him.
“Mikayla, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Falling for you,…that was the last thing I
had in mind when I started this.” He swallowed and met her eyes as gentle tears
trembled on long lashes. “Wanting you has cost me more than you will ever
know.”

“No,
Will, wanting you has cost me more than you can replace with fancy words and
I’m sorries.”

“I
know that you don’t trust me, but please, understand, things in Amor…” He
paused and looked over her shoulder to the Secluded City shining brightly in
the cheerful sun, mystery and murder hidden within its golden spires and solid
walls. He looked back into her eyes and released her chin. “Things in Amor,
Mikayla, are not always what they seem. People are not always who them seem.”

Mikayla
shook her head and slid open the door next to her. She looked at the man
leaning against the glass, her heart aching as his eyes bored into her. Tears
sprang to her eyes and filled her voice. “I would prefer it if you didn’t come
around here or the Hall of Records any longer. I can finish on my own. I can’t
prevent you from being there, but I would ask that you leave me in peace,
please.” She slid the glass door closed and disappeared into the house.

Will
stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Mikayla!” The door closed as he
reached it, and she was gone. His palm left an imprint on the glass and he
rested against it. A shuddering sigh escaped him as he leaned his forehead on
the glass. Legally, he knew he could enter the house, force her to talk to him,
but ethically, he knew he had no right.

Will
lifted his head and stepped away from the glass. On the table sat the perfect
rose, its petals fluttering in the breeze. He looked back at the glass that
only reflected his own image now. “I love you.” He whispered before turning and
walking away, down the sand.

Mikayla
watched him go from the window seat, disappearing into the shimmering light. As
he disappeared from view, a sob that had been held back too long escaped from
her lungs. Her body heaved until long after it was empty. Spent, she crept to
her bedroom and crawled onto the bed that had held her and her lover, lost in a
world that couldn’t hold them.

Mikayla
rested her hand on the cool metal of the door knob for the cellar door. She
hesitated to open it, to venture into the dimness of the cellar, but she knew
if she didn’t, she wouldn’t rest. She was positive that whomever might have
been in the cellar the night of the storm was long gone now. She had been in
and out of the house many times over the past few days. However, that didn’t
mean she shouldn’t still investigate. How come, then, her grandmother’s old
saying, “Curiosity killed the cat” continued to run through her brain even as
she slid the lock and turned the knob.

Her
mind flashed back to her conversation with Dejeune just days before. She had
reported the break-in. His response had startled and confused her at the time.
Now, it raised her senses. He had said all the right words, but his eyes had
been hidden, his tone flat. Promises of an investigation and reimbursement made,
but something had chilled Mikayla bringing back Will’s words that things
weren’t always as they appeared.

The
knob turned with a creak, and…

…cool
air rushed towards her, swirling around her and lifting strands of hair from
her face. Suddenly, she remembered being in the dark after a draft from
somewhere had blown out her lantern. When the lights had turned on, no windows
had been open. Had it been a breeze from the cellar door opening that had left
her in the darkness, alone and afraid? The thought had nerves jumping beneath
her skin and a sick feeling welling in her belly.

Mikayla
straightened her spine and wished the sickness away. It was the middle of the
morning. The sun was shining brilliantly outside and promised that the
remainder of the day would be absolutely perfect. This was the perfect time to
venture into the dark cellar, where spiders and mice built webs and nests. She
shivered at the thoughts of all of the creepy critters that might be living
beneath the floor of her humble house. At that thought she turned to walk away.
This could wait another day, or even forever.

She
sighed as her hand brushed the diary tucked safely in a new backpack slung over
her shoulder. She had no more research or even her notes if she didn’t find
what had been stolen. If she didn’t follow her instinct, she might never find
what she was missing. She lifted her chin, adjusted the pack on her shoulder,
and swung the door wide allowing the sunlight to filter in. lighting the gloom.

Mikayla
craned her head over the stairs and looked down. The stairs disappeared into
darkness as they twisted down. She pulled the hefty Mag-Light she had found
under the sink out of her pack and flicked the switch. She took one deep breath
and stepped in, following the wall with one hand as she took the creaky,
rotting stairs one at a time.

The
air smelled musty and rotten. She pushed a hand through a web that stretched
across the staircase, feeling the silken threads clinging to her skin. She
stifled the half-panicked scream that bubbled up inside as she flicked the
spider across the room. She banked the need to shiver. The stairs creaked
beneath her slight weight, threatening to fall out from beneath her. Her hands
followed the wall as she continued down into the belly; moss clung to the walls
making it velvety to the touch.

Mikayla
shone her flashlight around her as she reached the bottom step. The ceiling was
low and covered in generations of spiders’ webs. Pipes and electrical cords ran
through the open ceiling allowing for access to the inner workings of the main
floor. Dried garlic, onions, and peppers hung from hooks in the beams that
seemed to have been there since the house was new based on the mold that glowed
in the dim light.

Her
light swept over the floor before stepping off. She was reminded that the house
was on the beach and most beach dwellers wouldn’t have a basement because of
the water table when the floor disappeared into six inch, murky water. It was a
miracle the entire house didn’t disappear when the tide came in.

She
used her light to scan for anything that might hamper her way through the
water. She gave a brief thought to taking off her tennis shoes and decided
against it. There was no telling what horrific microbial organisms were living
within the waters.

Mikayla
swept her light one more time around the cellar and then plunged into the
water. It rose above her ankles, cold and muddy, swirling around her calves as
she waded through. She shuddered at the thought of water that had settled in
the cellar of an old house touching her skin, but moved on. She wasn’t sure
what she was looking for, but she knew there was something here, something out
of the ordinary, something that would provide a clue to the disappearance of
her materials.