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Yet I had been careless. I slowly place an X on myself.
“One of them had managed to jam a blade through a weak point in my chain mail. The girl fled, insisting she would go for help, and as the sun set on the road, I knew I would die. I’d accepted it. Staring up at the sky, I held my blood in as best as possible, but I felt my limbs growing cold. Leland came when it was almost too late. And he asked me the same question he asks everyone he’s ever turned.”
I do my best imitation of my maker. “He said to me, ‘Sir, would you like to live?’ I was hanging on by a thread, and trying to talk sent me spiraling into a coughing fit.” I can see Charlee and Rolando share a look between them. Charlee looks like she is fighting off the giggles. They knew precisely what Leland had said, and I’d left out of my story. I was well known in the area, and he had used my full name to address me. I never liked my name and see no point in bringing it up.
“I sputtered up blood, but he asked me again if I wanted to live. I finally croaked out a ‘yes,’ thinking I was making a deal with the Devil himself. He turned me right there on the road and carried me away. I never did find out if the girl came back for me….” I place an X over her figure now. She is long since dead.
Leland always laughs when I tell the part of the story where I thought he was the Devil. Because I was wrong, so damn wrong. He is filled with kindness, respect, and empathy. I am the first human he ever turned, and I've stuck by his side all of these centuries because his values mirror mine.
Looking back at Wren now, it is like the rest of the world has faded away. I try to stay out of her head, I do. But her thoughts are so loud when she thinks about me. About my lips, about what it would feel like to twist her hands up in my hair and press herself against me. She wonders what my hands would feel like on her skin and if I am a generous lover as she pictures.
I blink and force myself to look away, my body reacting to her attraction. I want so badly to tell her. It isn’t honorable to do so. I can’t justify taking advantage of our bond until we know each other better or she had her memories. Until then, I will gladly suffer in silence.
Wishing everyone a peaceful sleep, I leave to go inside. Part of me notices that Wren gets up and follows me in. I want to turn around and pin her to the wall so badly. I know she wants me to, it is the way of the bond, but I underestimated how difficult it would be to fight it. That is with me knowing what is happening. She is stuck under its thrall with no idea what is causing it.
“Oz,” her soft voice comes, grasping my hand and stopping me dead in my tracks.
Face controlled, I turn to look at her. Her hair is now piled high in a messy bun. The sweater she picked out clings to her subtle curves. “Yes?”
“I wanted to ask you about the figurines in your room.”
I can’t help but grin. “Ah, yes, my sculptures?”
Returning the smile, Wren gives me the most curious look. “You made those?”
Bobbing my head, unable to look the least bit sheepish, “I did. I’ve been smithing for a few centuries now and found I have a knack for making little trinkets.”
She seems to like that.
“Do you think you could show me the process? They’re beautiful, and I’d love to see how it’s done.”
“Of course, little bird.” When she throws her arms around me this time, I am entirely unprepared but thoroughly satisfied. Her warmth, her tenderness, her kindness. I could soak up every last drop that she has. I place a gentle kiss on her hair, reveling in the fact that she still smells like me.
It is getting harder and harder to resist the call of the bond, and I worry I will give in sooner rather than later.
Tears are streaking down my face. My throat is raw from sobbing, anger, and heartbreak fills me to the brim. The rain is heavy, and lightning is frequent. I am in the heaviest part of the storm, which rages as I do.
I don’t know why I am so upset.
What happened to me?
What happened to us?
Visions of a man beside me, face wrapped in shadow. He feels ominous.
Dark.
Deadly.
Our tires lose traction and spin out of control. The car hits the guard rail and slides against it until we soar in the air. The rail then disappears, and without its support, the vehicle succumbs to gravity, and I fall.
Pressure across my chest, holding me to my seat.
Then it is gone.
Weightless.
Glass and metal twist around me until the water stops me from falling more.
