Minutes later, after the tingling warmth of the fading spring sun had melted from my face, we were back in the library, where a new warmth comforted my face when I let my imagination wander again to having fifteen hours alone with William in this room.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPERONE
During our last hour in the library, William revealed what his other gift was . . . his other impressive one.
He was a Foreteller.
The gift of Foretelling was not revealing the future, but seeing death in the future. Through his mind, a stream of death-filled images forever flowed. He saw Mortal’s deaths. Not every single one—he wasn’t sure why he saw some and not others—but he saw them regularly.
With some, he was able to make out landmarks and timeframes; either a team would be sent to carry out their sworn promise to protect humanity if the deaths were within their power to save (and if he was back in his Alliance of Guardians), or a Transformation team was sent to preview the doomed Mortal, and determine if they would be a needed addition to the Immortal world.
This was how he’d discovered I was in trouble that night in Newport. He saw a Foretelling of my death hours before it nearly took place.
We called it a night after this, and he escorted me back to my room where I now festered; less over today’s clandestine teachings, and more over how much I missed being close to him. He was agonizingly close to me for hours on end, but due to Townsend Manor and a stupid, ancient Immortal code . . . he was as far away and off limits to me as Mars.
I was never going to find the reprieve of dreamless sleep with all these musings running through my mind—which was now highly adept at processing multiple streams of information at any one time. If I was still Mortal, I’m sure the heightened mental stimulus would have caused a killer migraine.
In my growing frustration, I punched the sides of my pillow and stormed out of bed, marching through the open double doors leading to the balcony.
The air was saturated with the scent of lilac, and had the heaviness of a rain-filled spring night. I rested my hands on the balcony rail, and closed my eyes to more fully experience the lusciousness of the air. My mind cleared of all the Immortality confusion, and rested on one thing.
My eyes jolted open at the same time my neck snapped to the side, where his balcony was a mere Immortal leap away. He’d done it hadn’t he . . . why couldn’t I try? If I didn’t make it, I’d only fall to the ground, and I was Immortal after all . . . how much damage could be done?
It was decided—I only wished I’d paid better attention to what William had done. Was it a running jump, or had he done it standing still? Had his arms and legs flailed in the air, propelling him forward? Or had he leapt like a long jumper; legs and arms forward, aerodynamically cutting through the air?
I settled upon standing on the edge of the rail and just giving it everything I had from a standing jump. I couldn’t decide if I should close my eyes or keep them open, but as I began swinging my arms back and forth, I decided to close them—my eyes wouldn’t make the difference if I reached my destination or jettisoned to the ground twenty feet below. I crouched into jumping position, taking one final arm swing back, and then I exploded into . . . something.
Something hard and instantaneous.
I was certain it couldn’t have been from the impact of the ground below; it was much too instant, and it certainly would have hurt far worse than this impact. While forceful, the impact wasn’t painful.
A millisecond later, I was being propelled backwards from the strength of the force. My eyes opened in time to see the face I loved most in front of mine—anxious and determined—as we careened into something soft and swinging behind us. The force of our crash sent the hammock into an agitated swinging fit.
How had he so suddenly appeared? Maybe I’d finally fallen asleep while lying in bed, although this was definitely not a dreamless sleep. It was a million times better. I sighed and reached for his face. It felt real . . . this was a wonderful dream.
“What were you thinking?” My dream William spoke, and he didn’t sound particularly happy . . . and why wasn’t he kissing me already? The frenzied swing of the hammock tapered off, and then I felt the onslaught of our energies colliding at the weight of him on top of me. It was bewildering. I was aware of nothing else but him and our agreeably positioned bodies.
“Bryn,” he said, gentler now. “Please, tell me. What were you doing?”
I had to shake my head in order to clear my thoughts before I could respond. “I was getting ready to jump. What the heck happened?”
His expression sharpened to match the words that came next. “I knew that’s what you were up to.” His face was inches above mine, so close his breath warmed my neck; it took all my will to focus on his words. “Don’t you remember me telling you how weak Immortals are at your age? How fragile you still are?”
“Yes, but—” I wanted to break into my reasoning, but he interrupted me.
“What were you thinking?” he repeated; this time, with less of an edge.
“I just . . . wanted to see you,” I murmured, looking away from him to hide my embarrassment. I thought my intention in the matter would have been obvious.
“You wanted to see me?” He sounded surprised, happily so, so I braved looking back at him.
The stress lines along his forehead had melted, and his mouth was turned up in a smile. He reached his hand towards my face and traced his fingers along my jaw-line. “And you thought since you’d seen me leap from balcony to balcony, that you’d give it a try too?” His fingers continued their tracing, now gliding smoothly over the shape of my lips, making it impossible to respond, so I nodded.
“I sometimes forget how tenacious you are,” he said, lowering his face to my neck. His warm breath vaporized against the skin of my neck. “Next time you want to see me in the middle of the night”—his lips grazed softly over my neck, barely touching—“why don’t you just come out here, and instead of attempting a jump, whisper my name.”
His lips ceased their journey, and he lifted his face above mine. He swept his hand over my brows, which were now set in confusion, and chuckled. “I failed to mention my heightened senses are a bit more heightened than other Immortals.”
“You’ve got another gift?” As if Foretelling and the ability to create an Immortal of his own accord wasn’t enough, now he had extra heightened senses? If he could hear me whisper from almost a half a football field away, how far away could he be to hear a normal voice, or a blood-curdling scream?
What about his vision? I thought about how next to perfect mine was now, and knowing that his was even more so . . . was it like Superman’s X-ray vision? My heart raced thinking of this, and I made a mental note to take advantage of the fancy underwear that remained untouched in my lavishly stocked closet. Just in case . . .
“What are you thinking?” He looked at me with a mixture of caution and nervousness, while I pondered in silence.
“I was just thinking about all your gifts. Your talents—”
He cut in, “I know, I’m some kind of Immortal freak.” A grimace shot across his face before he rolled off to the side of me, but he kept one arm wrapped around my back.
I rolled on my side to look him in the face. “No, that’s not it at all,” I spoke with the kind of conviction that emanates from every molecule of one’s makeup. “You’re amazing. Perfect, even. I already felt far inferior before I even knew about all this Immortal stuff. Now, I feel utterly insignificant beside you, and it appears I don’t even have a single gift of my own.” The disappointment I’d been trying to hide in my voice seeped out.
“You really don’t see yourself the way everyone else does. If anyone’s inferior here, it’s me,” he said, fingering through my hair. “It’s still very early. Our gifts don’t normally appear until a few weeks after creation, so don’t worry,” he reassured me. “You might be even freakier than me.” He laughed lightly, but the heaviness remained in his eyes.
“Please promise me next time you’re so desperate to see me, you’ll just call for me,” he begged, as his arm tightened around my back and drew me down to him. His lips kissed the outside corner of my mouth. “I couldn’t stand to see you hurt, even for a moment.” His lips brushed over mine as he moved to kiss the other corner of my mouth.
“I promise,” I replied breathlessly, as the fire began to tear through me.
“Besides, I was just debating making a visit of my own. I couldn’t sleep, and having to be so carefully restrained around you these past couple days just about killed me.” He grinned irresistibly, before caressing my neck with his lips again.
The fire was scalding, exploding through my body every place he touched me, and as perfect as this moment was . . . I still yearned for something more—the fire craved something more.
Without mercy, he twisted us back into our prior position. I reached for the back of his head and wove my fingers through his hair to pull him closer, seeking his lips with mine. They met, and all was right again, the fire momentarily abated, satisfied with the longings extinguished on each other’s lips.
“Eh-hmmm . . .”
I froze when the unannounced third party interrupted our sanctuary with a deliberate clearing of his throat. It appeared my heightened senses were rendered useless when William and I were together like this. William didn’t respond to whoever was behind us, he kept his lips moving softly over my now petrified ones, as if savoring the fleeting moment.
“Eh-hmmmm!”
I was terrified to look; afraid it would be John having discovered our affection for one another all because of my weakness and unfailing need for the dark-haired man melting my frozen lips with his presently.
William sighed heavily, placed one final kiss over my mouth, and then righted us both with one graceful movement. “You have impeccable timing as always, Patrick.” William hadn’t yet turned to see who was behind us, but when I peeked from the side of his shielding body, it was Patrick—slanting against the railing, black three-piece suit and all.
“Yeah, well this is just my way of keeping everything balanced my friend—you know, the whole ying-yang, black and white, good vs. evil, Inheritor versus Guardian thing? The universe requires balance to run efficiently, and consider this—my impeccable timing right now—to balance out my good timing earlier this evening . . . when I showed up just before you were able to launch yourself at dear John.” Patrick raised his eyebrows in reminder. “I didn’t quite understand why you were so flipping enraged at first. I thought it was because he was distracting one of your students or something, but now”—he pointed his finger between the two of us—“I understand perfectly. Again, I apologize for ruining the moment.” He covered his mouth, trying to contain a smile or a laugh. “But I simply had to make the universe right again.” He dropped his hand from his mouth, no longer trying to hide his intense enjoyment.