For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (28 page)

    
She glances over her shoulder, her expression hot and heady as only in a dream.  Roxel’s mist has run its course through her system.

    
My lower body bucks in response.  From the way she’s looking at me, there can be no denial in my mind that Jean wants me as much as I want her.  I swallow the lump in my throat.  “What are you doing out here?”

    
She glances away.  “Timmy,” she whispers.  “I thought I saw…”  She turns suddenly, as if on a double-take, and looks up at me, expression alive and fierce and certain.  “Timmy.”

    
“Oh.”  Hooding my eyes, I let my hand slip from her shoulder, but she catches it and lifts my hand to her face.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t see you before.  But, I see you now.”  Stepping close, she cups my hand to her cheek and slides my thumb over her lips as she says, “Tam, I’ve been waiting for you.  I want you.”

    
My body nearly explodes at her expression, at her tone, and dominant body language.  I stare at her, too dumb with need and want.  Is it true?  Or the mist?  The mist made me want Roxel when I really wanted Jean.  Does Jean just want me because the mist is making her forget Timmy?  Or does she love me and use Timmy as an excuse?

    
She drags my hand down her face and neck, cups it against her breast. 
Crap
.  “Will you?”

    
I swallow again, trying to think, trying to breathe, trying not to feel anything under my hand.  “Will I what?”

    
She leans into me, placing more of her body against mine, tempting me with warm curves and soft skin.  “Will you take me?”  She touches my face.  “Let me have you?”

    
I pull her hand away.  It’s so hard to do, my body is assuming a will all its own.  It strains and burns, as if trying to breech my clothing in an effort to get to her.  “Eventually.  Like we said.  When you’re ready.”

    
She slips her hand away from mine and reaches up again, this time grasping my hair in a gesture of certainty and drawing my head downward so we’re nearly nose to nose.  Her lips brush mine as she whispers, “I
am
ready.  I want you now.  Right.  This.  Moment.”

    
Every word from her mouth is a spell, binding me to action and stupidity so that when the last syllable is uttered and her lips slide against mine I can’t help but groan.  For a long moment, I’m paralyzed to her siren touch, taste, and spell.  I fall deeper and deeper into the kiss, into Jean.

    
Then I find my strength and shove her away.  “No,” I growl.

    
She blinks at me as if hurt.

    
“Jean,” I gasp, already falling back into her eyes, into the magic.  I look away.  “Something’s wrong.  There’s
Aos Si
magic here.  I don’t even know if you’re the real Jean or some kind of cruel joke.  The real Jean doesn’t want this.  It’s like you’re made of my imagination.”

    
“I want it,” she says.  This time, there is no spell to her voice.  “I’ve always wanted it.  I was just confused.  I’m not confused anymore.”

    
I give her an uneasy expression.  Looking at her makes my knees buckle.  I want to launch myself at her.  I want to take her whether she allows it or not.  This mist where rules no longer exist scares me.  I could hurt her.  I really could.  I ball my fists, trying to keep myself still.  I won’t hurt her.  I refuse to.  “Why?”

    
She smiles at me, gentle as a temptress.  “Because you’re here.  I see who you are.  You are the man I think you are, aren’t you?”

    
I back away from her, wanting more to keep myself from going toward her than any fear I have of her.  “That depends.  Who do you think I am?”

    
She steps toward me.  “The man I love.”

    
More hasty steps.  Steps that catch my feet and make me fall onto my ass.  I blink up at her, too dumb to move or speak.  She loves me?  She wants me?  This is too good to be true.  I can’t help but wonder just how deeply these feelings she has for me are buried under all her inhibitions in the world outside the mist.  I shake my head, trying to clear it.

    
Jean closes the distance between us, her loafers appearing to either side of my legs and then she’s kneeling over me, her body too close and too easy and her face within kissing distance again.  She stares at me, eyes wide as an open meadow, promising as spring.  “You love me, too, don’t you, Tam?”

    
I bite my lips to keep myself from declaring to the stars and the moon and every universe in existence that yes, damn it, I love her more than life itself.  She’s beautiful, smart, and kind.  I love her little brow wrinkle and how she constantly thunks her head down in exasperation.  I love that she’s loyal and forgiving.  I love that she tries to be strong and independent.  I love the touch of her hair and her full body.  I get drunk off her scent and her voice is like that of an angel’s.  The beat of her heart brings joy to mine and I even love the melancholy way she stares at the park, though I don’t understand why.

    
I want to tell her.  But I have to be strong.  I need to hold the barrier between us.  We made a promise to each other that this would not be.  That vow was made with the rules and restrictions of her faith in mind.  Here, those rules no longer exist.  The rules of God have no place in the world of the
Aos Si
– in the world of the damned.  I need to get us both out of here before I also forget the rules and it’s too late.

    
But I can’t move.

    
Jean is sitting on top of me, her body so perfect and ready for me.  All I have to do is ease her onto her back and take her in the ways I want and envision…

    
I can’t fold to the mist.

    
Have to get up.

    
Have to fight.

    
But all I can do is stare at her.

    
She caresses my face, tracing my cheek, jaw, and throat in such a slow teasing way – her expression so much like the one she wore the day she plucked my rose. I’m entranced by her lips.  Before I understand what’s happening, she’s leaning down and kissing me again.

    
Her taste and touch flood my senses.  On instinct, I reach up, grabbing her waist and dragging her body flush to mine.  Telling her through kiss and contact that I want her, love her.  She grasps onto me, her arms trapping me to her, pressing her heaving chest against mine, fingers wrenching in my hair – a prison.  A sweet prison from which I have no desire to escape.

    
Somewhere between her sliding my uniform jacket off my shoulders and me laying her against the stiff linen, taking awe in how the green makes her hair more brilliantly red, I recall there’s a reason why I should stop…But I can’t remember what it is – my mind seems devoid of reason – so I don’t.

    
And as she stares up at me, eyes flirty and hot, fingers sliding my uniform trousers down my hips, as I in turn bare her body to the late afternoon sun, it seems immeasurably silly that there would ever be anything keeping me apart from Jean.  I lay atop her, conscious of my weight against her, certain to be gentle with her because it’s her first time.  I lean down and kiss her again, reveling in her sweet body, in the perfection of the two of us as one.

    
Before we join, all I’m aware of is the deeper, absolute reaches of my love for Jean.

    
She’s mine. 

    
I’m hers.

    
We’re together.

    
That’s how it has always been.  That’s how it will always be.  Nothing will keep us apart again.  That is my vow to her, my own marriage to her, body and soul.

Tamrin

    
I’m running, eyes fixed on the bouncing tresses of the girl running in front of me.  I can’t see anything beyond her outline.  All I feel is the ground meeting my pounding feet, the burning in my lungs, the sweat and hard breaths under my hand – pressed against her back, urging her forward, and the silken hair that brushes my wrist.  That is my world, narrowed to escape and the preservation of Jean.

    
A horse whinnies in the distance, breaking the isolated beats of escape.  They’re closer – chasing us.  My hearing sharpens, searching.  Tinkling bells, jangling harnesses, the thunderous beat of hooves.  Why?  Why are they chasing us?  I push Jean harder.  But as she tenses to go faster, she drops away from me.

    
My momentum carries me too far forward, past her.  “Jean!” It’s part scream, part whisper.  Panting, I skid to a stop, try running back to where she disappeared, but the horses rise over the crest of the path and I’m blinded with lanterns glowing in a dizzying rainbow array.

    
I raise my hands and step backward, wanting to hide myself.  My foot slips off of a drop in the path, but I catch myself before taking the tumble.  Glancing over my shoulder, I barely see her crumpled at the bottom of a drop-off, a mass of shimmering pink taffeta.  My thudding heart and gasping breaths freeze in my chest.  She’s not moving.  Is she dead?  God, please let her be okay.

    
My legs strain, wanting to run to her, but I’m aware of the mounted riders coming after us.  Who is it?  What do they want?  Why are they after us?

    
I squint, trying to make them out.  Nearly a dozen horses.  Six ethereal lanterns on long, delicate poles.  The horses shift, bells tinkle.  Everything shines and reflects as if made of mirrors and silver.  One of the riders heels her steed forward and I see her outline in relief against the bright light.  Massive black horse.  White clad woman.  Black hair, black eyes, skin that’s gold-white in the light.

    
She’s pretty like a movie-star.  She glows like an angel.  But there’s an evil sort of cruelty about her mouth and eyes.  I shift from foot to foot, trying to make the ferns close behind me – trying to hide Jean.

    
She swings a leg over her horse and lands on the ground with a noiseless bounce.  Her gown ripples and floats around her as if caught in a breeze, but the air is still.  Is she magic?  Is this real?

    
I steel myself as she advances.  I see her more clearly now, her comrades as well.  They’re armed.  Pikes, swords.  She’s has a curved dagger with a ruby studded hilt tucked into the thick golden belt slung low on her hips.  They’re all dressed like they belong in a historic movie, though I can’t pin-point the time period.  They’re obviously crazy people; no one uses swords or dresses like this anymore.  Still, I can’t be certain they don’t know how to use those weapons.

    
I can’t let them have Jean.

    
Squaring my shoulders, I try to make my voice sound strong.  “What do you want?”  I demand of the woman. Even though she seems like a wicked witch from a bad movie, she looks way less formidable than the huge, hulking men with her.

    
She stops, looks me over, and grins.  “He’s a bold one, Twyla.”

    
“Yes, Milady,” one of the other mounted riders – the only other woman – agrees.

    
The temptress lady comes close, bends to examine me with eyes the color of garnets, calculating one side and then the other.  She smells like roses, a heavy scent that makes me want to sneeze.  More than sneezing, I want to kick her in the shin.  She cups my chin, trying to turn my face toward the light.  I jerk away and give her a warning glare.  Mom and Dad have told me not to let strangers touch me.

    
Flashing a tight smile, she looks me square in the eye.  “You’re a handsome young man, aren’t you?”

    
I clench my jaw and scowl at her.  I think she’s trying to flatter me, but for what, I don’t know.  I ask my question again.  “What do you want?  Why are you chasing me?”  I make certain to say ‘me’ because they haven’t gone for Jean, which means maybe they didn’t notice her or maybe they think she got away.  I silently pray she stays still and doesn’t betray herself to them.

    
The woman straightens.  “Your father is Rhynn is he not?”

    
I frown at her, confused by the sudden turn of question.  “That’s my last name.”

    
“The fae tell me your father has killed one of my pets.  He owes me a blood debt.”

    
Killed a pet?  My dad?  He’d never kill someone’s pet.  “Dad only hunts deer.”

    
She smiles tightly at me.  “How would you like to visit my home, handsome brave boy?”

    
My nostril lifts.  “No thanks.”

    
She coughs out a tight laugh, a false thing meant to make her seem likable.  “Oh, but why ever not?  I could use a brave handsome boy like you.”  She presses her hands together.  “You could be a knight.  I could give you anything you desire.  Glory, power, beautiful girls to-”