Sunder (10 page)

“Frank, you leave her alone. I heard about this party already. It’s cool if she goes. Stop badgering the poor girl.” Judith shouted up the stairs. “Your dinner is ready, get down here.”

I smiled. He held his hands up in the air and walked from the room muttering, “Take your cell and make sure you call me if you do anything you shouldn’t. I will come and get you.”

I rolled my eyes and finished off the preparations. When had I ever done something I shouldn’t? Okay, I had done those things, but he hadn’t ever found out. I was responsible enough to get my own drunken ass home.

When I finished and went downstairs, Judith slipped me forty dollars and a smile as I left the house. She was growing on me fast. My dad grumbled. “What kind of boy doesn’t come and meet the parents? What is this world coming to? Did he ask you out by text? Have you even met him or is this an Internet thing?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Dad, it’s like a group date. We’re meeting. Stop. I’m meeting a friend one street over. God.”

I turned and ran down the street in a sexy beige miniskirt;
light-blue
, off-the-shoulder sweater; and my cutest almost-thigh-high riding boots. My hair had light curls bouncing along my back and my makeup was done to make it look like I didn’t have much on. Really it was caked, but boys were dumb about that. They saw perfection and were happy. They never saw the amount of work we put into perfection.

As I rounded the corner, nerves built in my stomach.

He was there, standing under the light of a lamppost. I shuddered when I saw him. He made my breath ragged from a whole block away.

As I got closer I smiled. He was so formally dressed all the time. Luckily, I had anticipated it and dressed nicer than the town deserved. But when I got closer, I noticed he was dressed in jeans, but they were still European cut, and although they were slim, they weren’t skinny. They suited his body. He had a European-cut body, trim but cut. I could only imagine what was under those clothes. I could bet it was good.

Boys in jeans with no shirt on were easily one of my favorite images.

I almost laughed at myself when I saw his shirt. He was in a light-blue sweater too, almost matching mine. Awesome, we would be those dorks that matched. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, looking around like he might run away.

I felt the same. My insides were clinging to each other. In fact, my whole body was clenched. I looked around, wondering if anyone would see and tell my dad or Judith. I had a single flash of regret, but the moment I was close enough to see his eyes, it was gone. He smiled and everything else faded away.

My brain screamed at me, not a warning but just begging me to think it through. When I got close enough that he would hear me, I spoke softly, “What are we doing?”

He shook his head. “Going for dinner?” He said it like it was a question, like he was unsure too.

“No, what are we doing? This is crazy. I don’t even know you.” I stopped walking. The ten paces between us felt like an ocean.

He didn’t miss a single beat. The moment I stopped, he started to walk towards me. “It’s impossible—I know we have never met, and yet, I feel like we have never been apart.”

He summed it up perfectly.

How odd.

I nodded. “I know.” My words were whispered.

When he got close enough to touch me, he titled my chin. I thought for sure he would kiss me, but he just stared at me.

He shook his head, like he was pulling himself from the trance we were caught in. Clutching my hand, he turned down the street. He didn’t walk fast, thankfully. My boots were super cute, but not made for walking.

His voice was the only sound on the uninhabited street, besides our footsteps. “This is a very bad idea, Liv. I think when two people feel the way I think we both
do,
they’re smarter to walk away. You know the inevitable attachment that will come in a situation like this one? It’s a life-ruining experience.”

I laughed; he was ridiculous, and yet not wrong. I could feel it too. I decided humor was the best solution. “Do you place that level of intensity and commitment on all your dates?”

He gave me a sideways glance and smiled. “I don’t date. I have never actually dated a girl before. You are my first date.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you seem the pillar of virtue I imagined in the man who would tell me that my love would ruin him.”

“I am not a pillar of anything. I just don’t see the point in dating. I don’t stay places very long.” He chuckled.

I slipped my hand from his, folding my arms around myself. “What is the point of dating? It’s a necessity. You’re getting to know someone, deciding if they are the person you want to spend at least some part of your life with. Spending a few moments in intimacy so you can see if there is something about that person you can’t live without. Dating is the start. It is the beginning point of any relationship.”

He stopped walking and looked down on me. “I already know the answers to those questions. I already know everything I need to about you.”

That scared me. I stepped back. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?” My heart was racing.

“You talk to your dead mom, but you don’t tell her everything. You still lie to her, to keep her safe from the truths in your heart. You love clothes and makeup but you’re very smart. I can see that—smarter than a girl like you should be. You love your dad and dislike your stepmom. You have hordes of friends, but few people know you.” He walked to me as he spoke and paused when he was right in front of me again. He paused in his speech and dragged his thumb down my cheeks slowly. He looked pained when he spoke again. “And you don’t ever ask boys to dance, so when you asked me and I turned you down, I truly hurt your feelings, and for that I am very sorry.”

My eyes watered. I cursed him silently. If the tear formed, I would murder him. My mascara was heavily applied. My whole face would be black.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

He shook his head, still holding my face. “I told you, I feel like I’ve known you as if we have never been apart a day in our lives. I don’t know why. I knew it the moment I saw you. I watched you walk into the ball with your family. The wind blew in behind you and you paused in the entrance, and I knew.”

“This is crazy.” My heart was beating so hard, if I had looked down I would have seen it. But his tragic eyes held me captive. “You’re crazy, aren’t you? Like bipolar or mentally unstable.”

“No! Are you actually hungry?”

I shook my head. There was no way I could eat. I was in some strange version of butterflies-in-my-stomach hell.

He lifted my hand and kissed it before turning and walking down the street again. “I want to show you something.” He led me down a dark street and my stomachache got worse.

It was crazy but I wanted it and I couldn’t explain it, even if he was crazy.

Briton

She looked scared.

Her blue eyes were more electrically charged as they darted about. He had seen it the minute she had rounded the corner on the sidewalk. He had heard it in her heartbeat.

She was terrified.

He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew. Had they told her what he was? Would the Michaels family do that?

They would.

He knew that. They would protect her. He needed to tell her himself. But first he needed to show himself to her, the man he was before he became the monster. It was his only chance at having something with her.

Had Briton had a heartbeat, his would have been rapid like hers. But he was too overwhelmed to be afraid. Yes, he knew better than to do any of the things they were doing, but he couldn’t be scared of them.

When her eyes met his, and he saw her face completely, all of his doubts were gone. She was so beautiful. There was something more to it.
Something that matched him perfectly.
He couldn’t name it, but he could feel it.

He wanted her more than any single thing he could recall in two thousand years.

But he needed her to see inside of him. She had to know the man he might have been, had he ever been given the chance, before he revealed the truth.

Leading her down a dark street was a mistake though, especially after she had asked him if he was bipolar. He knew that, and yet, he was leading her into a dark alley. He could feel his fangs lingering just at the point where the tiniest thing might make them drop.

He was holding her hand and taking her to a place that would make no sense to her. But to him it was a piece of mortality, even it if it was a small piece.

He had to show her the only thing that he could, the only human piece. It was an insignificant place to anyone but to him—it had been his spot. He took deep breaths, preparing
himself
mentally for the fact the story in itself would out him.

He pointed and spoke gently, “The town used to be considerably smaller. This was farmland here. There was an old barn where the chickens had been kept, but they kept getting out and things were getting in, killing them off. It was run down so the farmer gave up on it and built a new chicken coop. When I lived here before, I would come here whenever I needed to get away. I would sit in the loft, on the hay and just watch everything around me. When you’re still, the world moves around at a beautiful pace. The view of the sunset was perfect and no one would have thought to find me in an old run-down barn. It was my quiet spot.” He pulled her down another alleyway and pointed at a low-lying mountain range in the dark sky. “The sun sets
there
in the summer, and from the barn the view was uninterrupted. I was actually in this very
spot
the night my family died. I had five brothers, a mother and father. They all died in a fire and if Miles, the old man you saw me with at the ball, had not saved me, I would have died too. They burned to death and I haven’t loved anything since. I didn’t believe love was a possibility for me, until now.” He skipped over the part where they would have been poisoned before burning to death.

He turned and looked at her. Her face was paused, like she was deep thought. “You were here before?” She had missed the point of the story completely. His chest ached as though his heart beat still. What else could he say? What did a man of this age say to win a woman’s heart?

“I lived here many years ago, sort of grew up here in a sense of the word. It was the safest place I had been, enabling me to be myself at all times.”

“Dude! No way! This house right here is over a hundred years old. It was here when you were a kid. You’re mixed up. The barn is probably closer to the farm on the outskirts of town. It’s a sweet story though.” The way she said it, it sounded like a foolish story.

It was not going well. She had bypassed his confession of believing in love because he had met her, really just seen her. There was something so magnetic about her. She made him feel alive again. He spoke softly, trying not to show his frustration, “It was a long time ago. My family was one of the first settler families of the area.”

“What year was that? You are so full of shit. Why are you making this up?”

He spoke through a clenched jaw, “A long time ago.” He had made a mistake. How could he have thought that showing her something like that would reveal
who
he was?
It didn’t matter how he explained it
,
she would see the monster
. It was all he was—a monster. He didn’t have anything else to show her that proved his heart had existed. He had spent centuries pretending he didn’t have one.

She jerked her hand free of his. “You are such a weirdo. Why the hell am I even here?” She turned and stomped down the alley.

He heard her mutter something about fifty shades of cray and all the hotties are always insane. He paused, thinking about how to tell her—just tell her. He had to tell her before they did. All she would see were the scary stories, not the parts of him that were real. He shouted at her, “DON’T LEAVE. I’LL SHOW YOU I GREW UP HERE THEN!”

She paused, not turning back to look at him but at least she had stopped walking. He could smell the fear. She was scared of him. His brain whispered that she should be. He closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating the proof he would need. His hands vibrated, they had a plan of their own. Take her and make her love him back.

She turned, her blue eyes almost glowing in the night. She shook her
head,
speaking so low only he would have caught it. “I can’t do crazy. I don’t have that inside of me. I like normal. I figured you were a billionaire weirdo. You guys always are, but I never imagined you were this level of weird. I have senior year, getting into a good school, dealing with my dad and Judith. I don’t have time for mentally unstable.”

He clenched his jaw and walked to her, making the only noise around them. The silence of the town had not changed, regardless of the growth. “Give me a chance to explain it all.”

“Fifteen minutes and no more creepy alleys.”

He held a hand out for her. Touching her hand might be the only thing that stopped him from breaking something. “I promise no more alleys.” She looked at his hand, like she might take it but kept her arms wrapped around her slim waist.
She was so small and fragile
,
it scared him
.

She scared him.

How could something so small affect him so greatly? He hated that he couldn’t take her memories. He wished he could start over. Reintroduce
himself
.

He brushed past her, going to the street. They strolled in silence until he reached the old museum. He had seen it the other day and was shocked at the things inside of it.

“I wish I could start over with you.”

She scowled. “Why? What’s going on?”

“There is something you need to know about Wolfville. Something you won’t believe without proof.” He walked around the back with her, turning the knob on the locked door so hard the lock broke off in his firm grip. “Shhhhhh.”

Her eyes widened. “We can’t go in there.” Her whisper made him laugh.

“We can, but we have to be very quiet.”

“I’m not going into a dark, creepy museum with you. This back alley is a bad idea, not to mention, you promised. This museum is you murdering me in there or worse.”

He laughed harder. “Liv, if I wanted you dead, I would have killed you the first night I saw you.” He paused, regretting that sentence instantly.

She paled, stepping back.

He winced. “I didn’t mean that like that. I just meant killing people is easy.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh God. You’re like Dexter. You’re going to confess to me and then have to kill me but your conscience is going to make you hate yourself. Oh God. Oh God. Judith was right about you.”

Who was Dexter and why did she know such a man? Damn. He was losing her. He grabbed her hand, pulling her inside of the open door. He closed it and pressed her back against it. What was he doing?

The smell of her delicious fear lingered around him. His fingers gripped her arms a little too tightly. He could feel her trembling. He savored the moment, fighting his fangs from springing and attacking her. When he had it under control, he leaned down, close to her face and whispered, “Trust me. I would never hurt you.”

Her blue eyes were actually glowing. It was the strangest thing to see someone’s eyes glow so brightly.
A human’s.

Oh dear God, she wasn’t a human, though was she? No human’s eyes glowed like that. There was only one thing that had eyes like that.

Everything made sense instantly.
Judith warning her to stay away from him.
Her father, the doctor moving to this small town.

He died inside a little bit.

She muttered, “Could you—hurt me?”

The question burned in his throat with the smell of her skin stuck there. He wanted so badly to bite her but he didn’t. He would never get the chance to bite her. He could feel something in his chest, something horrid. It choked his words so he nodded his response.

The trembling of her delicate jaw became noticeable. Her eyes welled slightly. “Please let me go. Please, I won’t tell anyone what happened. I swear. I’m not one of those girls who say that and then call the cops. I know that girl always dies.”

He slipped his hand around hers, shaking his head. “I can’t. I need you to see one thing. After that you can go.” She would know everything in a week or so anyway. She was so close to the change.

He turned and pulled her through the museum, gracefully avoiding the furniture and artifacts. She was sobbing. Had she been a normal girl, he would have bit her just to shut her up—at least she would enjoy that. They always liked the bite.

But not her kind.
Besides, he didn't want that to be her last memory of him. When they were forbidden to be together in two weeks, she would only remember the bite.

He walked to the picture he remembered taking like it had happened the day before, not hundreds of years earlier. He held his free hand up to the picture. “This was shot in the early 1800s. My father Thorlak, my mother Maria, my brothers Simon, Finn, Gunnar, Leif, Ragnar, and me. My name was Nicolai. I was the youngest of six boys.”

She was shaking in his arms, but he held her tightly and spoke softly, “I was born before Jesus. 976 BC. My father had been a Viking in Naddodd’s expedition to discover Iceland. He was a Norseman from the Faroe Islands. The first year in Iceland something attacked the settlement. They had assumed they were the first to discover Iceland, but no. The stories from the men who survived were unbelievable to be exact. No one understood what had happened to
them
. But from then on they were different. The men there were cursed, transforming into hideous creatures. Some becoming wolves, attacking everyone they saw, ripping them to shreds, even their own family members.
Their changes only occurring on the full moon at first.
It was three days of violent hell and they couldn’t be killed—not without the bite of their one enemy.”

“A werewolf?”

He was surprised when she whispered; she was actually listening to him. He winced when he saw her brightly glowing eyes. “Yes. But my father changed into something else—something worse. He feasted on people, animals, whatever he could find. He couldn’t sate his thirst. It took him a hundred years to stop the bloody storms he and the few men like him inflicted upon the world. When he met my mother, he fell in love. He felt a part of him—a part he hadn’t thought existed anymore—awaken. His heart beat again for the first time, or so he thought. He loved her
instantly,
she had saved the small piece of the man inside of him. So he stole her from an Italian man who he had befriended in trade. She had been a slave there. They had children, something he hadn’t realized he was able to do. The children of such a union generally killed the mother in birth. But mine was strong. She lived through six births and then my father changed her to be like him. Only the bitten can never truly be like the born or the cursed. She could never go outside in the light of day again, not without burning to death in the sun’s light.”