Secret Worlds (51 page)

I flopped back against his pillow. It still smelled like him—like vanilla and sandalwood and musk. I couldn’t deny my attraction to him, which seemed to be taking over more with each passing day, but we’d never made it beyond what Lauren called the ‘heavy petting’ stage.

Truth was, that was already a lot further than I’d gone with any man before. But so what if I was a late bloomer? Not everyone started dating in high school. At least that was what I’d always told myself.

Besides, I wasn’t sure it was right to be intimate with Charles when I couldn’t be completely honest with him. Would he still want to be with me if I
did
tell him everything? Ever since I’d told Ivory, she rarely answered my calls, and we’d been friends for years.

Maybe first, before worrying about sharing my secrets, it would be best to find out if a future between us was even possible, though he wouldn’t like what needed to be done to make that happen.

Charles emerged shirtless from the bathroom, the muscles in his stomach stacked down to where his jeans rested at his hips. My heart thumped against my lungs, and I hopped to my feet. I wanted to run my hands over the muscles of his shoulders and press my cheek against his bare chest, but I remained firmly planted where I stood.

He smirked as he pulled a black and grey striped sweater over his head, and I sighed as all that beauty was hidden from view.

“Just going to run a comb through my hair,” he said.

“To sit in the living room?” I grabbed his hand and tugged him closer, snaking my arms around his waist. “You look good with bed-head. Reminds me of the night we met.”

He planted a gentle kiss on my lips, then grabbed my hand and led me out to the living room. We sat on the floor beside our potted pine tree decorated with candy canes and pinecones and a popcorn garland. I insisted he open his gift first. He peeked into the silver gift bag, removed the pocket watch, and smiled at the inscription.

“‘It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see’,” he read.

“Henry David Thoreau.”

“This is perfect, Sophia.” He smiled, then reached behind him and handed me a box wrapped in recycled paper. “Now your turn.”

I ripped a small area of the wrapping, and a gold foil box peaked out. “What is it?” I asked.

“Open it.”

I tore the rest of the paper away and lifted the lid to the box. Cushioned inside was a spiral bracelet, threaded with iridescent glass balls of gold and garnet and plum, accented with tiny pearls and crystals.

The air rushed from my lungs in a sigh. “Oh. Charles, it’s…amazing.”

I was relieved to find the bracelet fit perfectly. Only Grandfather Dunne had ever known to buy me bracelets small enough not to slip off.

I lied back and stared up at pinecones in our tree. Charles was perfect for me in every way but one: he was immortal. I would age, and he would not. How weird would that eventually become?

How could I make sense of all this—of my feelings for him and the reality that a future together was unreasonable?

Charles propped himself on his elbow beside me. “Something’s wrong.”

I rolled to my side, resting my head in the palm of my hand. My legs stretched out, though my feet didn’t reach far past his knees. I was looking at our feet only because I feared what I might find if I looked in his eyes—not just in his expression, but in my heart as well.

Could I be with him even with his immortality and my own secrets standing between us?

“Look at me,” he said in a firm-but-gentle tone. I lifted my gaze, and his eyes burned with a familiar intensity that heated me from my core. “I know you are worried about what will become of us, but you need to trust things will work out.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because,” he said. “Because I have never allowed myself to get involved before, but with you I am unable to deny the connection. Things
have to
work out.” He tucked a loose curling strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re my life now, Sophia. That will remain so. Always.”

“Am I?” I whispered. I grazed his forearm with my fingertips. His skin was warm, smooth, and buzzing with energy. Touching him…it was how I imagined it would be to touch light. Not the heat, but the very essence.

“I’ve stopped protecting my heart from you,” he said. “I’ve stopped fighting the way I feel, stopped fighting the natural draw I feel toward you. Now you need to do the same.”

My throat tightened, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to disappear from the moment.

“Stop fighting it,” he murmured. “You can’t treat everyone in your life the same. You can’t treat us all as though we’ve hurt you.”

I shook my head slowly, opening my eyes. “I don’t.”

He grinned, lifting my hand and grazing his lips over my knuckles. “Don’t you?”

Shit. He was right. “It’s not that easy,” I said, finally. “It’s not even about that.”

“Everything has to make sense with you.” Charles’ voice edged on frustration. “It all has to add up, to be perfect, neat, in your control. You make your decisions based on fears of how others might judge you. How can you live like that?”

I eased my hand away from his grasp and sat up. “Wow,” I said, unable to contain my defensive tone. “Don’t hold back for my sake.”

He sat up and grasped my hand again. “I wouldn’t want you to hold back for mine.”

“I’m not holding back,” I lied.

“Do you think, after three centuries, I can’t read a person? Auras or not?”

As much as I hated the way he challenged me, it was also the very reason I knew he was my perfect match. He inspired me toward growth. Now I worried what I was about to say would ruin the one thing he appreciated about me: that I’d accepted him for who he was when the rest of his world, and probably my own as well, would not.

“Fine. You want me to tell you what’s bothering me?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I want.”

I searched his face. Should I tell him what Adrian’s books had said? How would he react to the idea of sacrificing his Cruor side? His immortality, at the very least, would remain so long as he continued to shift. I wasn’t asking for a commitment, only the promise of possibility.

He caressed his thumb across my bottom lip and along my jaw. “Thinking again?”

I inhaled deeply, repressing a sigh. “I read something in one of Adrian’s books about your…you know…problem?”

I hated calling it a problem. Being a dual-breed wouldn’t have really been a problem if the Maltorim hadn’t made it one. But his immortality—admittedly, that
did
bother me.

His easy smile slipped. “Is this in regards to the Ankou?”

I straightened, trying to contain the fluttering in my stomach. “I know you’re skeptical,” I said, “but this sounds promising.”

“They do have a special form of magic—especially where transformations are concerned—but they aren’t going to help unless something’s in it for them.” His hand dropped back to his side. He was all discussion now; clearly, this wasn’t what he expected me to bring up.

“It’s worth a try,” I said quietly. “I have a feeling this might work.”

“First tell me what the book said.”

I spun the beads on the bracelet he’d given me. He wasn’t going to like my answer.

“We kill the part we want gone?” I said, my uncertainty strong enough to turn my statement into a question. “They performed the same procedure at the start of the genocide, but the recent success rates have been nearly flawless.”

“Genocide?” Charles repeated. “
Nearly
flawless?”

“The Maltorim killing people who aren’t ‘pure’.”

“Not exactly a genocide. Go back to what you were saying: I have to die first? What kind of theory is that?”

“How is it not like genocide?”

“They didn’t kill off all of one kind. Only those who were dual-natured.”

“The dual-natured
are
a kind of people.” Sadness tugged at my heart. He’d grown up in a world where his mixed nature wasn’t accepted, and this had become his ‘truth’. “I’ll stop looking into this if you aren’t interested.”

His expression sagged. “I don’t trust the Ankou. They might do a lot of good, some of them, but they aren’t any better than any other supernatural race. There’s a good chance they’ll turn us in to the Maltorim, and the Maltorim gave up their efforts for purification long ago. If they find out about my nature, I’m dead. My family’s dead.
You’re
dead. That’s all there is to it, Sophia.”

“The Ankou have been helping save other dual-natureds from being killed,” I persisted.

“Even if this were true—and we have no way to know for certain—you must understand my position. I’m trapped between worlds. You are mortal, and my parents are not. I refuse to let go of either of you. There has to be another way.”

“
What
other way?” I asked.

He exhaled quietly, setting his gaze on mine. “Please try to understand what it’s like for me. There is no in-between. There will never be any sense of death coming. It’s not something that will creep up on me as the years pass. When I die, it will be at the hands of someone else—someone who knows how to kill my kind. It’s not as though I asked for this life. I wouldn’t wish immortality on my worst enemy.”

He spoke with such conviction that chills pricked my arms.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” I said.

“I’ve lived to see a lot of people die,” he said solemnly, “and I have to spend eternity carrying those losses. If I lose my parents, I would be alone in my grief forever. I would be giving them the same if they lost me. You must understand: immortality is not an escape from death. It’s an accumulation of loss. I risk too much by exposing myself on some whim my Cruor side can be removed.”

“I would never ask you to give up your parents,” I said, hoping to impart my sincerity. “And I hope you know that if immortality weren’t an issue, there’s nothing I would change about you.”

“I know, Sophia,” he said warily. “I wish I had answers for you. For us.”

“I just don’t know how to be with you completely when there’s no possibility of a future for us.”

“Being the world’s biggest pessimist isn’t everything,” he said. “Maybe if you show a little faith, things will work out.”

“
How
?”

“Faith, Sophia. Life isn’t always going to give you the answers to the questions you’re asking. Sometimes you have to make do with the answers you get.”

If only he knew that was exactly what I was doing. “Thanks, Yoda.”

“Like it you do, when I tell you these things.”

“You’re hilarious. Really. But what are you going to do? Fetch my walker when I’m eighty?” As I spoke the last sentence, a bit of my deeper hurt jabbed into my voice, and I swallowed, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “I’m just trying to be reasonable.”

“That’s your problem. Your head keeps getting in the way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re asking me to kill part of who I am, and yet you won’t even open up to me. What is plaguing you, Sophia? You toss and turn all night, you’re never fully there when I’m talking to you.
Something
is bothering you. I might be able to help if you would talk to me.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

“Give and take, Sophia. It needs to go both ways.”

I stared at my hands, wishing more than anything I could just disappear entirely.

“Let me tell you something, Miss Reasonable. We definitely can’t be together if you’re dead, and you might as well be signing a death wish if you plan to seek out the Ankou under these circumstances. They aren’t called ‘the elemental grim reapers’ for no reason. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“All I wanted to know is if you would be willing to grow old with me, if things ever developed between us that way.”

“What do you think all this is about?” he asked, spreading his hands. “This
is
about wanting to be with you. But it’s also about what being with you means.”

***

THE NEXT DAY, Charles and I cuddled in the bedroom with our favorite movie—
Red Violin
. Charles rested back against his pillow, eyes closed. I couldn’t see past his youthful face—couldn’t see him as a man who’d lived through centuries.

“How much of your life can you remember?” I asked.

“Remember?” He opened his eyes, his expression soft and curious. “I don’t. Everything blurs together, to the point most major life events carry about as much weight as tying shoelaces. But there’s always a new adventure. Always something new.”

“Like me?”

He pulled me on top of him, so that I straddled his hips. “You are more than an adventure, Sophia.”

I crossed my arms behind his neck, and his heartbeat quickened against the inside of my forearms. He planted several soft kisses along my jaw, his fingers playing across my collarbone. Anticipation robbed me of my breath, and my heart leapt to my throat.

He tipped his forehead to mine, his face too close now to make out anything more than his teal eyes and dark, tangled lashes. My heart went wild in my chest. I quickly realized I was holding my breath, and it took a conscious effort to release it slowly.

“Charles?” I whispered, my lips brushing his as I spoke.

His mouth closed over mine, and I kissed him, tasting him with a hunger that belied my outward calm. He wound his hand in my hair, his lips pressed firmly on my own. A wave of heat traveled over my skin as desire pulsed through my body like wildfire on a hot Colorado day, consuming me the way those fires consumed whole stretches of forest.

Charles’ warm hands untangled from my hair and slid down my back, his fingertips tracing small circles across my skin, just under my shirt. Swimming through the haze, I fought to control the swirl of emotions and relax away my doubts as his hands slowly moved up to caress my breasts through the lace of my bra. His thumbs grazed my nipples through the material, and my breath quickened.

“Sophia,” he said softly, pulling away. “We should stop.”

But when I kissed him again, he didn’t resist. Our breathing shifted into deeper, heady breaths, the air surrounding us growing thicker and effused with passion. A growl rumbled in his chest as I slid my arms around him. I leaned back on the bed, pulling him on top of me, his body flush with mine, his mouth moving to my neck, dropping kisses across my chest, down to where the plunging neckline of my blouse came to a halt.