Mimics of Rune 02- Surrender (41 page)

As do you.
Charley’s body spasmed.

James broke their contact, pushed himself between them. Her head shook as he grabbed her cheeks with his hands.

“Not today, Charley.” He seethed through the near-silent command.

She tried to answer, but her nature betrayed her. Wyatt moved back, his hands in the air as if in surrender. She let the shimmer engulf her as it had in the car; her head lolled even with the hands which held her in place.

One final change. For Wyatt.

• • •

“Whoa, man, is she having a seizure?” Wyatt’s voice penetrated her fog.

“Yeah—a seizure. Open that door, please.” James gruff command would not be ignored.

She hung from his arms like a rag doll as he lifted her into them. The screech of a car door followed, but Charley kept her eyes shut, letting Wyatt’s voice and his image pass through her mind as she returned her focus inward. She envisioned faces, youth, features, likes and dislikes, to create in herself the perfect teenage girl—the ideal solution for Wyatt.

“Dammit, Charley! Stop. Now.” James’s whispered command broke through her veil of consciousness as his grip on her shoulder took her attention.

Soft leather slid under her hands and vibrated with the engine’s roar. The truck bucked and spun. Her head, at rest in James’s lap, lolled with the tight turn. Charley refocused on Wyatt’s form and face.

Her body shifted against James as the car sped through the curves she herself would have taken had Wyatt not interrupted her drive.

Preparation kept Charley’s smile hidden. James already saw through too much of her plan. Her desire to become the girl of Wyatt’s dreams won against her need to remain herself. She no longer wanted separation by age or kind. The change would be easy—and her last.

“Charley!” James’s gruff call of her name jarred her body, breaking her focus again.

The car jerked as he tugged at her instead of navigating the vehicle.

She shook her head, remaining silent. Each jiggle interrupted her process, preventing her from completing her body’s adjustments.

The screech of tires accompanied a sharp turn and a steep climb. The flip of his cell phone followed until the wheels ground to a halt, and she bounced against him.

“Get out here, now,” James said.

The night air rushed in with the storm of feet. The truck’s seat bounced as James exited and Charley fell flat to its surface. Hot air rushed over her face a moment later.

“What happened?” Cael’s voice cut through her mind.

James brought reinforcements.
Charley pushed her body to move faster.

“She made eye contact with him.”

“Dammit, Charley. He’s not ready for you.”

Yes, he is!
She turned her head back and forth as she struggled with her own decision. The burn in her toes reached upward to her shins, and the tingle in her fingers made it to her forearms.

Cael’s fingers pressed into her collarbones. “You know the rules.”

She grit her teeth, pulling permanence into her thighs and up farther into her chest.
Rules be damned!
The pressure at her neck bore down.
We’re meant to be together!

His fingers moved out to her shoulders, pressed her into the truck’s seat. “I’m not going to let you pull it through, Charley. You’ll suffer for the next twenty-four hours if you have to. And you know I can hold you here the whole time.”

She wanted to scream and fight, but her body betrayed her as she impressed upon herself the final details that would entice Wyatt for the rest of his life. Her years of practice in silent shape-shifting backfired; she remained mute through her efforts.

“He’s too young.” Cael interrupted her again.

Her mind moved in and out between his words and her desire.

“He has to make the choice himself.”

But, I want him.

“You won’t get what you need out of this, Charley. It won’t happen.”

I still want him.

“He’s human, Charley.”

Undone, she let the shimmer fade. The force above her remained, but like an artist with a broken muse, she stopped the change. Her muscles burned with heat confined to her extremities. She blinked, opened to Cael’s upside down face, and closed her eyes once again.

“Is she back?” James’s voice carried to her.

“Yes. Lavender irises and vertical pupils. I’m going to let go, Charley.”

Released from the hold, she curled into herself. One day a year she had to deal with life as her natural self. She almost lost everything thanks to teenage desire which overruled over two hundred years of experience.

A hand massaged her shoulders, kneading muscles worn both from her original transformation and the second attempt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

James’s breath caught the back of her ear, warm against the cool night. As her body’s temperature lowered, shivers ran through her. He fit himself snugly behind her.

“You can’t be sorry for wanting something so much you’d give up your life for it, but you promised, remember?”

She slid into his lap. Charley wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders as she laid her head down upon one.

“I’m so tired.” She whispered the words.

“Sleep.” James said.

Within seconds, she complied.

• • •

Exhaustion had overcome Charley. She’d teetered in consciousness, remembering only the sway as James lifted her into his arms before she’d woken, nude and tucked tight in bed. Given her ability to morph her entire body into another’s, she’d long since gotten over the need for modesty.

With the stars above and the trees everywhere around her mountaintop home, Charley’s balcony offered a place of refuge. Bundled in several blankets she’d hand-knit over the years, she curled into a wrought-iron chaise and let the wintery air take hold of her senses. Wyatt’s scent lingered, if only in the recesses of her mind.

James’s unmistakable footfall identified him as he joined her. A quick scrape of metal against wood suggested he’d moved one of her chairs. “Pass over some blanket.” He swiped the top one from her. “I know you hear me.”

Her lips curled, though her eyes remained closed. She shivered under the lost weight of one layer; her grip on the opposite end of her cover thwarted his attempt to steal a second.

“Ha! Knew it.”

“I don’t bother you when you’re recovering.” She made no attempt to turn toward him.

“You’re worrying.” After so many years together, he’d guess right.

Her hair caught between the slats as she turned. She cringed as she fluttered sleepy lids, letting in a sliver of light. She found James’s nose an inch from her own.

“I’m sorry.” Charley whispered the words.

James closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you get close to him.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me.” Her grin grew. “You know that as well as I do.”

“I could’ve tried harder—”

She shook her head. “No. I should have known better.”

James huffed a laugh. “Well, as your big brother—”

Charley snorted a laugh. “Big brother my ass. I’m fifty years older than you and related in absolutely no way, shape or form, and thank god I can’t be male because then I’d have to become you just for spite.” She tweaked his nose. “But you are bigger.” Charley let her head loll away. “That was a first for me.”

“I’m surprised. We’ve all faltered at some point.”

She drew her gaze back to his. How he could relax, proportioned in a chaise half his size, she didn’t know. The single afghan barely reached his knees as he burrowed his body beneath it.

“Why don’t you wear a jacket?” She held the blanket above her lips to keep her smile hidden.

“You act old when you do that.” James spread out the cover more, pulling the edges to their limit.

Charley patted the knee resting against her armrest.

“And yet you look like you could be—”

“Don’t say it. It’s really gotten old, and I am so over it.”

James’s boom of laughter shook the trees. “Fine, fine. You don’t want me to tell you that you’re the most beautiful two-hundred-something eighteen year old around? No problem.”

She mock-punched his shoulder.

“Ahem.” Cael stood in the frame of the sliding glass door, so very different from James in every way except height and form, shape and strength.

Lily snuck in under his arm—an easy feat given her tiny stature. “You’re awake.” She slid her butt onto the edge of the chair at Charley’s toes. “Feelin’ better?”

“I screwed up, Lil.”

“No, no. Giving up who we are? That’s how we move on in this world. You know that better than any of us.” Lily’s head bobbled. “How’d you know he was the right one, though?”

Charley caught James’s gaze before Cael’s. “It’s a long story. I just can’t believe we met up tonight, of all nights.”

“Any other day of the year you’d have been safe to show off your wild and youthful age.” Lily giggled.

“Ooh … and about that. Happy Birthday, Charley.” James leaned in, added a kiss to her forehead.

“To eighteen again!” Cael smirked and held out his fist.

She bumped it.

Lily eyed her with a hint of mischief. “Maybe he was your birthday gift. Maybe that means another chance is around the corner.”

2

One year later

The blare of the bell vibrated through speakers as the masses began their hourly class change. Feet shuffled and screeched, shoulders bumped backpacks, and laughter rang out within the halls of West High.

“Whoops. Sorry, man,” Wyatt called over his shoulder. A hand—as sincere an apology as he’d get—waved back at him. Like the others, he jostled for space and position amidst the sea of sweaty, over-cologned jocks and pretentious girls. Five minutes between classes didn’t offer much time for socialization, though as senior class president, Wyatt found himself the forced exception.

“Yo! Wyatt!”

One quick move, and he met his childhood friend between a set of well-graffitied lockers—
Jill and Jordan 4-ever
and
Cate loves Sam
the most prominent of the numerous tokens of love scribed in magic marker of various colors.

“Man!” Out of breath, Stuart leaned over, placed his hands on his knees. His hair shook as his chest heaved. He twisted backward to lean against the wall and held one finger out, sliding it down to Wyatt’s face. “Dude! Did you see her?”

Head cocked, Wyatt squinted. In the course of his ten-yard walk, he’d bumped into, waved at or said ‘hello’ to a dozen or more students—a number of them of the female variety. Some he’d recognized; others he figured were underclassmen not worthy of his acknowledgement.

“Oh, c’mon, man! That girl! The hot one.”

Wyatt shook his head.

“Oh my god, man! You so totally missed it. Her. She. Oh man, she is smokin’!” Stuart slapped his palm against his thigh. Head against the metal, he turned to Wyatt. “You really didn’t see her?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” To have missed new-hot-girl broke their sworn code—always share when the worthy appear.

“Kevin said, that Cam said, that Jen said she’s from Sweden or something,” Stuart said.

At once, Wyatt remembered. His high school had accepted a one-month exchange student from New Zealand.

“She’s here? Already?” He hadn’t expected her until after lunch—his fourth-period study hall—which turned into a daily bitch-and-moan session with his fellow seniors. The plan had been to greet their visitor and give her an honorable, if vivacious, West High welcome.

At Stuart’s nod, Wyatt threw his backpack over his shoulder, slammed his palm into Jill’s scrawled name, and with a quick yell of ‘Gotta go!’, took off. One ‘Where’s the fire?’ and a number of apologies later, he reached the main office.

West High’s secretary greeted him with a giant smile on her pudgy face. “Wyatt!”

“Hi, Miss Stillman.” He returned her sentiment with his own grin. Wyatt let his backpack fall to the floor and leaned over the chest-high counter. The glass from one office reflected through all the others—a direct shot inside the privacy of closed doors.

Hot-girl sat with Principal Stone.

Fiery-gold ringlets draped from a single pony tail; it swished and swayed as she spoke. Her hands flew in the air. Her head tilted back with laughter. Whatever they chatted about must have been hilarious as Principal Stone mirrored her every action.

“Wyatt.”

Lips painted soft pink, skin a luscious milky white, neither marred by the strength of the sun.

“Wyatt.”

Her legs bumped the edge of Principal Stone’s desk as she crossed one knee over the other and left her calf exposed.

“Wyatt!”

He blinked. “Sorry. What?” His eyes stayed focused on her.

“Mr. Stone is ready for you.”

Wyatt continued to stare through the glass walls.

“Wyatt!” Miss Stillman rapped her hand on the desk. “Stop ogling and get in there! Principal Stone is ready to introduce you.”

Sweat broke out on his palms as he stuttered, “Yes, ma’am,” and began the too-short walk. Stuart hadn’t lied. In his dreams, Wyatt had imagined some overweight mousey girl with braces, glasses and out-of-date shoes. She’d have been short, her hair knotted and her voice gruff. Not that it mattered, of course.

Her voice will be gruff,
Wyatt thought to himself.
No way she’s that perfect.

With concentrated effort, Wyatt steered himself toward Principal Stone’s office and knocked on the outer edge.

“Ah, Wyatt. Join us.”

Principal Stone motioned Wyatt to the second seat, a mere inch from where she sat. In all his life, he’d never seen anyone like her. Even Julie, West’s head cheerleader and the football team’s fantasy, couldn’t touch her.

“Wyatt? This is Amiria.” Principal Stone held out his hand as Wyatt maneuvered around and lowered himself onto the molded plastic. “Amiria, this is Wyatt Moreland, our senior class president.”

She turned toward him with eyes of blazing blue. Wyatt would have sworn they held speckles like a robin’s egg. He longed for one of the ten-year-old mints in the bowl on Stone’s desk as his mouth dried out and his throat closed up on itself.