Larkstorm (27 page)

We’re in a world of our own. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but Beck, the sparkling stars and the soft splashes of waves. If only I could hold on to this moment forever.

The music ends. I twirl away from Beck and fall into the soft sand. In the moonlight, Beck’s eyes shine with happiness. And I’m sure mine look the same.

He lands beside me in the sand, hands behind his head. The heavy air presses on us. If I shield my mind, I can almost pretend nothing has changed. We’re still at school. Still trying to one-up-each other, still showing up late for lunch. Still oblivious to the events swirling around us.

I prop up on my elbow and move closer to Beck until we’re touching. My thin dress sticks to my body, dampened by the humidity.

I lay my head on Beck’s chest and listen to the soothing hum of his heart. His good, Light heart. The one that’s always been there for me when I needed it.

“Tell me, Lark, if I’m supposed to be so good, then why would I so desperately want someone so evil?”

“I don’t know,” I tease. My earlier depression is gone. “Maybe the encasing didn’t work and I’m using my Dark powers on you.” I smile and run a strand of my hair along Beck’s jaw. He moans in pleasure. “We don’t know everything I’m capable of, remember? Maybe I’m like my mother, and you can’t help but desire me.”

His hand reaches for my arm and traces a little pattern on the back. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

“See, we don’t even know if that’s me or just normal thunder
,
” I say and push up so we’re face to face.

“I know one way to find out.” Beck reaches for my face and cups my chin. With trembling hands, he pulls me down to him. Our faces are inches from one another. His forehead touches mine and I watch his face contort, as if struggling with something. Along every point where we touch, a mild vibration of magic tingles through my skin. Our magic, working together, like when we found my necklace after the attack.

“Lark, I love you. I really do.” His labored breath washes over my face. The thunder grows louder.

My heart leaps and sends electric currents running through my spine. Every warning, every rule is banished from my mind.

“Then kiss me,” I whisper.

His lips touch mine. Seventeen years of desire pulse through me. I feel a snap. The lock around my heart loosens and unlocks.

Beck tenses but his lips don’t leave mine. He felt it too. Lightning zig-zags through the sky.

“Definitely nature,” he murmurs.

“Definitely.”

I reach for him again. My heart whirls stronger and stronger.

We stay like that, lying in the sand, staring at the stars and kissing. Time is frozen
—
we’re stuck in this moment and I’m not in a hurry to leave.

If I had known how amazing it felt to kiss Beck, really kiss him, I would have broken all the rules, and done it so much sooner. But now we have just three weeks left.

I can’t think that way. I just need to stop and enjoy the moment.

Before everything is taken away from us.

33

Beck escorts me to my room.

“Lark?” he begins. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

I roll my eyes. “You say that as if you haven’t spent every day of your life, aside from the past few weeks, sleeping near me.”

A grin spreads across his face. He scuffs his foot on the floor. “Yeah, well, this is ...different. Now, you know.”

A tinge of redness creeps into his cheeks.

I shove the door open. “After you.” I curtsey.

He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls me in after him. “Get in here before someone sees me.”

He nudges the door shut, taking care to not to make noise. Why is he acting so strange? It isn’t like this is frowned upon. We’ve been raised this way. Besides, everyone knows he’s with me
—
they sent him after me. It’s not a secret.

Beck flops on my bed and props himself up on one arm. “Don’t be mad at Eloise. She really was on a date until Eamon summoned everyone.”

Eloise didn’t lie to me. Just knowing that lifts my already elevated mood several notches higher, and I skip over to my clothing trunk.

“Do you like this?” Beck runs his hand over the bird-motif coverlet on the bed.

“I do. I think it’s sweet.”

“You would. It’s very girly. Just like you.”

“Well,” I tease, “it’s a good thing you won’t be forever bound to me and my girly decorating choices.” I throw open trunk top. “You can decorate your house however you want.”

“You mean I can live at home forever with my parents? Lucky me.” He sits on the edge of the bed.

I dig around in the trunk and find a clean nightgown. There’s no changing screen like at school and I know Beck is watching. With a deep breath, I shimmy out my damp dress and toss it on the ground.

He sighs.

In all the years living together, Beck has always given me privacy or would politely glance away when I changed. But not tonight. I can feel his eyes devouring me and hear his labored breath coming faster.

I spin around, snap off my bra and slide the thin gown over my head. It doesn’t hide much.

He holds his arms out to me. “Come here, Birdie.”

I walk slowly toward him. My legs threaten to give way. Years of familiarity, and yet, this feels like the first time we’ve ever been alone.

When I reach him, he gently pulls me close and strokes the back of my neck. “I never asked you before, but I’m asking you now. Will you wear my token?”

My heart leaps. I understand the significance in his question
—
he wants to be with me, even though we can never be permanently bound
—
at least not officially. He wants me as much as I want him. And I can tell him. I can finally tell him. My smile grows larger and larger until I’m afraid I won’t be able to say the words because I can’t stop smiling.

“Yes.”

The cool metal contrasts with the heat of my skin. Beck fastens the chain behind my neck and then leans forward and kisses it. His breath spreads across my chest, leaving me breathless.

When he reaches to wrap his arms around me, I resist. Instead, I reach down and strip off his wet shirt. His smooth, bronze skin glistens in the heat.

My lips graze his jaw and I shove him down onto the bed.

I run my hands over his chest and tiny sparks strike my fingertips. “Let’s act like it’s October and everything is normal
—
that we’re bound to each other forever. This is you and me and nothing else matters.”

Beck kisses me hard. His hands glide over my back, leaving behind a trail of electricity. “Do you mean it? Do you still want to be permanently bound to me?” His words tickle my lips.

“Yes. More than anything, I wish we could be.” I break loose and roll off him onto my side.

Beck curls himself around me, his face in my hair. Having him this close and feeling his body next to mine is right. This is what the rest of our lives should be like.

For a minute, bitterness builds inside of me. The unfairness of the situation grows real. Beck senses my shift in mood and kisses my shoulder first, then my cheek and finally lingers on my neck. The intensity of his lips matches the accelerating beat of my heart and the negative feelings melt away.

“Are you happy?” He slides the spaghetti strap of my gown off my shoulder and nibbles my bare skin.

My heart sputters and skips. Beck may be angelic looking, but he’s no saint.

When I turn my head, his lips move to my collarbone. “Yes. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He makes a small sound in agreement and then pushes me flat on my back. His eyes stare into mine, our freckles perfectly aligned.

“I love you, Lark.”

My heart pounds faster. My pulse throbs in my head. “I know.”

He doesn’t break his gaze. “I know what you want to say. You can. Just tell me.” His breath quickens as he waits for my response.

I shift beneath him. My lips move and I understand there’s nothing preventing me from telling him all the things I wanted to under the weeping willow. The encasing isn’t working.

“Lark? Do you love me? Tell me. Say the words.” His voice is insistent and his eyes serious.

I throw my arms around his neck and bring his face down to me. My fingers trace the edges of his lips, pausing in the middle. My heart thumps so rapidly, I believe it’s about to take off.

“I love you, Beck Channing.”

A strong tug and then a stirring deep inside me. I feel as if I’m being lifted up.

Beck senses it too. His breathing comes shallow and quick.

And then the feeling is gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of bliss.

Everything is perfect.

#

It’s early. The room is still except for the faint sound of breathing. From a tiny gap in the drapery, sunlight pushes back the darkness, conquering it once again.

My eyes follow the steady beam of light to the boy lying next to me. His beautiful face is joyous in victory.

I lean over him; my long, chestnut hair creates a curtain around us. I skim my lips over his. Beck doesn’t wake, but his mouth moves into a relaxed smile.

A knock on the door jars me from my blissful state.

“Rise and shine, Lark. It’s time for your less
— ”

An ear-piercing scream shatters my tranquil state. Mrs. Channing stands at the door, gaping at us. Her knuckles turn white as she grabs the doorjamb to steady herself. Rage rolls across her face.

“Wait!” I try to say. “This isn’t what it looks like!” But the words don’t come.

Within seconds, I see Bethina, Henry, Eloise and a few other faces behind her, peering into the room.

Beck, fully alert now, covers me with the thin sheet and shields me from the hallway of people. I know this doesn’t look good, his clothes and shoes scattered across the floor, me in a tiny nightgown and us both in bed together. I sink into the pillows, trying to hide.

Mrs. Channing hurls herself across the room. “What have you done?” With surprising strength, she yanks Beck from the bed. He’s only wearing underwear, and scoops his pants up off the ground.

“Beck, how could you?” Mrs. Channing’s rosy complexion is drained of color as Beck yanks on his pants. Behind them, Bethina rocks on her feet, eyes wide.

Mrs. Channing turns on Henry and unleashes her fury. “This is all your fault! You did this! You told him!”

“He asked.”

“How could you?” Mrs. Channing is wild. “Don’t answer that. I know where your loyalties lie.”

“Margo, Lark is my niece. I feel every bit as protective of her as you do of Beck.” There’s no color in Henry’s face and his eyes have changed to black. When he squares his shoulders toward Mrs. Channing, his image blurs around the edges and wavers.

“And what of Malin? Did your sister put you up to this?” Her words spew at Henry as she rushes at me.

“Why would she? She doesn’t want Lark to suffer as she has.” He lifts his hand and Mrs. Channing’s body shakes. “You will not harm her.”

Beck towers over his mother and throws himself between us.

He’s not frightened. In fact, he seems confident.

My gaze bounces between the two of them
—
serene Beck and hysterical Mrs. Channing. The scene makes no sense. We’ve always slept in the same room on our previous visits, granted not in the same bed and wearing next to nothing, but still. She’s over-reacting.

Without warning, Mrs. Channing beats her fists against Beck’s bare chest. Her cries break the stunned silence of the others.

“You knew! Beck, you stupid, foolish boy! How could you?”

With one hand, Beck grasps his mother’s fists. “Mom, stop. You need to calm down.”

A ripple of energy floats through the room. Despite the mess in front of me, I feel buoyant.

In the doorway, Bethina gathers herself. “Beck, did you willingly do this?”

“Of course! I needed to and this is the only way.” Beck folds his arms across his chest and plants his feet as if daring anyone to challenging him.

My vision swivels between Bethina, Beck and Mrs. Channing. It’s as if I’m watching a scene I’m not involved in. My foggy mind doesn’t understand what it’s seeing.

Soft chanting fills the hallway. Beside Mr. Channing, Eloise sways to the rhythm, her eyes closed. They’re doing a spell. But why? The question repeats itself in my mind, taunting me, and forces me back to the present.

A rush of air. I snap back into my body.

Mrs. Channing charges into her husband’s arms. “Malin put them up to this. To punish us. We should never have let her daughter in. Never!”

Her emotions assault me. Each rise in her voice sinks deeper into me. Each cry sends a crawling sensation racing down my spine. It’s irritating.

I narrow my eyes and focus on her small frame. Mrs. Channing’s body tenses as my thoughts bore into her.

“What are you talking about? My mother hasn’t done anything.” The angry edge in my voice is unmistakable. “Nothing!”

Bethina gives Beck a hard look. “Tell her, Beck.” Her voice quiet, but forceful. “Tell Lark what you’ve done.”

Beck hesitates.

Bethina, unwilling to wait for him, pushes past Beck and grabs my shoulder.

“Did you know?” She shakes me hard, snapping my head back. It’s too much like what Eamon did the day of the battle.

The crawling sensation moves up my arms. I grit my teeth and press my lips tight. I’m not going to let Bethina, or anyone, boss me around.

“Tell me, Lark. You tell me right now,” she demands.

I stiffen. The tiny spiders gather in my center, spinning. I bare my teeth at Bethina and a guttural sound escapes my lips
—
a growl.

A shadow crosses Bethina’s face before she recovers. “That won’t work here, young lady.”

The spiders stop. A slow, building hum replaces them and the fog resettles around my brain.

Beck’s authoritative voice interrupts us. “Bethina
—
stop. You’re hurting her.”

Satisfied with whatever she’s done, Bethina releases me and takes a step back.

Through my mind-haze, I watch Beck move toward me, hands outstretched and facing upward. His light spreads throughout me and I move to meet him.

He touches my arm. “Lark?”

I smile at him. His face is serene, not a bit of worry. I lick my lips. My mouth moves to answer him. “Yes?”

Beck strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “When we kissed, it broke the encasing.”

Even with my mind fuzzy, the memory of our first real kiss
—
not the fleeting, barely brushing of the lips we shared at school, but the sweetly passionate one on the beach
—
dances through my mind and is followed by the recollection of my heart unlocking. I knew what was happening but didn’t think Beck did.

Confused, I ask, “You knew?”

Beck ignores me and instead directs his comments to Bethina and the others. “Lark knew nothing. I did this. I knowingly broke the encasing.”

A murmur from the hallway.

“I wanted her to be herself, not some sanitized version you all created. Not a shell who couldn’t speak her mind. I wanted her to be the way she was.”

Pain strikes my temples. I rub the spot and concentrate on the words churning around me. The ceaseless chanting deafens my ears and causes me to feel unbalanced. Incense wafts into the room, and stings my nose.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

No one hears me.

“Bethina,” I say louder, “what does that mean?”

The chanting pummels me. I cover my ears. The noise is unbearable. It comes not just from the hallway, but also drifts in the window. An intense throbbing pain forces me to my knees. I rock forward in agony.