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.
I love you,
William
With reluctance, I left the heavenly confines of the bed, grabbing the crane and note up as I walked into Patrick’s room to retrieve some clothes from my bag. I threw on the same pair of jeans I’d worn last night, and patted back into William’s room.
I felt a little snoopy opening one of his dresser drawers, but reassured myself with the excuse of needing to find something more appropriate to wear since I’d only packed a tank-top. While temperature didn’t affect me any longer, it would stand out to Mortal eyes if I wasn’t wearing something fitting for the cool coastal morning. If I was being honest with myself, it was more a matter of wanting to be surrounded by something of his, and knew his clothing would be permeated with my favorite smell in the world.
I found a grey sweatshirt on top of the meticulously folded stack, and pulled it out, letting it unfold before me. Eight very familiar letters were written in scarlet across the chest. I threw it on, so it would remind me to ask him about it when he returned. I was right—his scent wafted over me like a dreamy cloud.
I made my way out to the kitchen where the wonderful coffee smell was originating from, and sadly found that the pot was missing from the maker. I didn’t see any sign of Abigail or Cora, so I walked over to the slider to head out for an early morning stroll along the beach in hopes of catching a glimpse of the four brothers skimming the waves.
When I stepped onto the back patio, I found Cora and the missing coffee pot together. She was curled up in a blanket in one of the patio chairs, staring off into the distant ocean. A large cobalt colored cup was steaming in between her hands.
“Good morning, Bryn,” she welcomed, without looking back.
“Good morning yourself,” I answered, as she swirled her head to look at me.
Her golden-blonde hair was pulled into two braids she’d tucked behind her ears, making her look somehow even sweeter. Her smile was just as easy and genuine this morning as it had been last night.
My eyes drifted to the large pot of coffee sitting on the glass tabletop where an extra mug waited beside it. Odd as the combination was, the aroma of coffee mixed with the brackish morning air sailing off the ocean was tantalizing.
Cora noted my stare. “I know—it’s silly isn’t it? This is one Mortal habit I can’t seem to overcome.” She held up her almost empty cup of coffee. “Joseph keeps telling me caffeine cannot affect my body now, but I just ignore him,” she said, taking a long sip. “I know I need this.”
I laughed with her. She was so comfortable to be around, and was the least intimidating and most human acting Immortal I’d met.
“Come on, pull up a seat.” She pulled aside one of the chairs beside her. “I brought you an extra cup so we can share in this ineffective indulgence—as Joseph likes to call it—together.”
We laughed in unison while I took a seat in the chair she’d pulled out for me. She poured the aromatic liquid into the extra mug.
“Here’s to absolutely essential indulgences,” she said, as we cheered our cups together.
“I’ll drink to that,” I responded, before taking a long drink. My fondness for Cora grew even more as soon as I tasted the wonderful elixir. It was positively the best cup of coffee I’d ever tasted . . . and I’d tasted a lot. I could easily make this a morning ritual, no matter the futility of the caffeine.
“Hey, we match,” she said, eyeing over the kipped sweatshirt I had on, and dropping her blanket to show me hers. “It’s Joseph’s.” That would explain why she looked like she was drowning in it.
“Joseph went to Stanford?” I asked.
She nodded her head. “He did. He’s followed in William’s footsteps just about every step of the way.” She smiled fondly before taking another drink from her cup.
My nose wrinkled. “William went to Stanford too?”
Her expression grew wary—probably due to the fact she was gun shy sharing unknown information with me regarding William, given my fainting spell last night. “Yeah, that’s where he went to med school . . . the first time around.” She smiled at me from the side.
“Med school . . . the first time?” My voice had perfected the awe sound as of late, since that’s what I was the majority of the time.
“William’s Station in our Alliance is as a Doctor. He’s gone to med school several times and received three specialties.”
I shook my head, letting my awe dissipate. “Well that explains a few things.” I said, thinking about his all too quick and able hands that night I’d split my head open. “But you’re Immortals, why do you need a doctor?”
“You’re not in Inheritor country anymore,” she said, tucking her knees to her chin and somehow balancing her cup on one knee. “His Station as a doctor is to keep with the Guardian mission of protecting Mortals.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I replied with chagrin. That should have been obvious.
“Of course, he can’t work out of a hospital—the fact he’s in a twenty-two year old body that never ages makes that impossible—but he and Joseph go where they can remain undetected for the most part: war zones, disaster areas, third world countries. They’re good men.” Cora said proudly.
The words disaster area reminded me of one of the first conversations I’d had with William weeks ago when we discovered we’d both been in Java providing medical care after the earthquake.
She laughed, disrupting my thoughts, and motioned with her head towards the raging ocean waves in front of us. “The guys picked a great day to go surfing—William’s got to be loving this. It looks like he’s been showing the other three up all morning.” Her eyes watched four figures far out in the water.
I’d not noticed them until now, but my new and improved vision allowed me to make out each one of their faces until they fell last on his. Cora was right; his face was alive with excitement. I smiled witnessing his happiness, and again admired the perfection of him surfing. A tremble ran through my body when several memories from last night flashed through my head.
“So . . . how did you sleep?” Her eyes looked at me from the side with a teasing glint of evil, as her lips pursed together to keep from smiling.
I reddened immediately, and muttered a quick reply, “Very well, thank you.”
The embarrassment was instant. I’d never stopped to recognize—that with five others in the small cottage with heightened senses—William and I would never have privacy from the illusion of a closed door. I could feel the redness streaming into my neck too, trying to recall every private word and intimate moment.
She giggled joyfully. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she apologized, still laughing. “Joseph made me promise to tease you because he said he was really going to give William a hard time out there today.” She leaned in as if wanting to whisper something to me, but her volume remained unchanged. “Let’s just say you’re getting off much easier than he is.”