Baehrly Alive (10 page)

I had a little vial with me. It was made of priceless, pure diamond so as not to taint the contents at all. I held this in the stream of water and held my breath as it slowly filled to the top.

Nothing happened. Either the spring was asleep, or my sacrifices had been acceptable.

I let out my breath in relief and carefully stowed the vial away.

“One down,” I said, mopping the sweat off of the back of my neck with a handkerchief and thinking wistfully about showers. I offered Donovan my injured hand. “Do you think you can bandage this up for me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, we’ve come all this way and you’re not even going to test the healing spring?”

I hesitated, but he had a point. What better way to test if the waters worked than to heal my hand?

I leaned over and extended my hand, letting the water splash against my hand before falling into its usual bed below.

It was cold—colder than ice, or so it seemed. My skin tingled on impact and it took all my self-control not to yelp and grab my hand back.

Instead, I watched as the cut across my palm erased itself. One moment it was there, then the sides were touching, then it was gone—just like that. I let the stream carry away the last of my blood and then drank a mouthful from my cupped palm. I offered Donovan a sip and he drank from my hand, his lips warm against my skin.

I shivered.

“It’s sweet,” Donovan marveled.

“And cold,” I agreed, though the water had not tasted sweet to me. It had tasted foul in my mouth—like vinegar and undiluted fish sauce.

I wondered if that was because I was already a third undead, and evil at that.

I wondered if that made my blood-offering unworthy.

I hoped not. After all, the blood was all mine—vampires were only sacks of other people’s blood.

Charming image to have in my brain.

But the spring had told me, in a way that was anything but subtle, how it felt about the changes that were happening in me.

I had wondered, briefly, if it might heal me—patch up my soul and send all the vampire fragments flying away to some abyss.

But it hadn’t. Instead, it had warned me that I was drawing ever closer to becoming a creature of the night.

I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on it—that elusive hope that I had been afraid to even voice, so tightly had I tamped it down—was enough that losing it opened up all the wounds I had spent the last six months trying to stitch back together.

Hope was too dangerous a commodity for me. I couldn’t afford to make that mistake again.

If I did, my next fall would be the final one. I wouldn’t survive it.

Better to plan for the sword and the fire when the time came than believe in minutely that there was a hope for me.

There wasn’t any.

Why was that so hard to accept?

I came back to myself, still staring down at my hand. Donovan watched me with that unreadable expression on his face.

“Someday,” I told him. “I’m going to find out what goes on behind that cop-mask of yours.”

His mouth curved slowly in a smile that made a dimple appear in one cheek. I wondered if I kissed him if the water would be sweet to me then.

Donovan’s crooked smile widened. He swung an arm around my waist and pulled me against him, until all my curves were pressed against all of his angles. I reveled in the differences between us—and the things that made us the same—the roughness of his two-day’s beard, getting past the prickly stage and starting to look like copper-ish down, to the smoothness of the skin at the nape of his neck. The line of his shoulders—so much broader and squarer than mine. I tiptoed my fingers across them, and then slid my hands down across his chest, letting my palms luxuriate in his warmth.

“What are you thinking right now?” I asked him, tilting my head to gaze up at his intense blue eyes through the darkness of my eyelashes. I had let my sunglasses fall somewhere. At this moment, I didn’t care—not when I could see him so clearly without them.

Donovan leaned his forehead against mine. “I am thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”

I brushed my lips ever-so-gently, teasingly, against the side of his neck and smiling as I saw the goosebumps gather where I had touched him.

He shivered, ever so slightly.

“Be careful,” he warned, softly in my ear.

I had never heeded those words—even as a child when my father or mother had shouted them behind me as I set off on a mad quest.

I wasn’t going to heed them now. I didn’t need to stop and reconsider.

I looked up at him and let myself drown in those gorgeous eyes. “I think you should kiss me,” I said, my voice coming out lower and huskier than usual. “Or I will have to kiss you first.”

We met in the middle with the power of continents colliding—reshaping the world, the universe—reshaping ourselves to suit the other—yielding here, pressing there—fighting and making love all in the same moment—all in that single soft breath before our lips touched.

I didn’t need to breathe; I didn’t need oxygen or earth beneath my feet. I didn’t need Magic, or strength, or to stand on my own.

I needed Donovan. I needed him as much as I wanted him.

The word ‘love’ crossed my mind, but it didn’t begin to express what I was feeling—they were trite, made by those who would never feel a fraction of the storm that rose between us. And it was not physical—though that fire burned there beneath the surface. Our souls cried out to one-another, shouting, “we are kin, you and I! We are one!”

“Marry me,” I whispered to him. “Here, now—with no one but the spring to witness it. Bind us together forever.”

Donovan searched my eyes with his. My heart rattled against the cage of my ribs. What would I do if he rejected me—surely, my heart would cease to beat at all.

“Of course,” he whispered against my lips. “Yes. Yes.”

We pulled away from each other and stood by the spring—I stood on the west side, while Donovan stood to the east, with our hands clasped between us.

We spoke words I would never forget, for they were carved on my heart. I knew they would be there forever—even if I changed. We vowed love and faithfulness, as lovers have from the beginning of time—far before this world was ever born.

We kissed and joined our hands together to sip from the spring with the cup made of our palms together.

This time the water was sweet.

I could feel the binding settle around me like a mantle. The Magic of this place approved, I could tell. The whispers around us, in the wind, echoed with glee and excitement, whipping up a swirling eddy that encircled us and danced away.

I stepped over onto Donovan’s side of the spring and slid my arms around his neck.

“I love you, Kurt Donovan,” I whispered. “My darling husband.”

He chuckled—I could feel it rise through his body. “My beautiful wife,” he answered. “I love you so.”

I thought for a moment—a brief flash—of my brother and Gwyn—was it right for me to take this selfish moment? To linger for a few hours, to be with the man I loved?

I closed my mind to those thoughts—this moment was ours, for me and Donovan alone.

“Do I have to call you Kurt now?” I asked. “Because I’m not sure that I can.”

He chuckled again. “No, please. I hate that name. Everyone has called me Donovan—even my parents.”

“Oh, good,” I said, saucily grinning up at him. “Because I’m not sure I could make love to Kurt, but…”

Donovan raised his eyebrows. “But, what?”

A thrill of something between terror and excitement whirled through me. I kissed Donovan again, and again, wrapping myself around him like a blanket.

“Oh,” I heard him murmur happily in my ear.
“Good.”

I woke in the middle of the night in a cocoon of blankets, sleeping bags, and the circle of Donovan’s arms. He slept peacefully, his pulse dancing along that delicate line of his neck.

He was so beautiful that it hurt.

What had wakened me? It was not for lack of comfort—our little nest was about as good as sleeping outside could get. The afternoon’s drizzle had turned into a clear night. I could see the stars shimmer brilliantly above us. The moon, half-waned hung in the sky like a patient mama, watching over them.

It was peaceful, with the rasp of distant insects and the occasional animal sounds, deeper in the woods. I knew that we were safe here, in the shelter of the healing spring.

But something had awakened me, and it was something that made all of my inner alarms tingle through my body. I sat up slowly, pulling myself out from under Donovan’s arm as gently as I could, so as not to wake him. I hated to leave the warmth we had created together, but I had to see what was bothering me. I pulled the top blanket off of our sleeping bags and wrapped it around me like a toga, following my feeling and picking my way through the grass and stones toward it.

I felt uneasy, but not the kind of uneasiness that warned me of danger. It was just a peculiar, prickly feeling, like knowing that I was being watched.

A cloaked figure stood on the far side of the clearing, his back to me—at least, I assumed that it was male—I couldn’t tell from the shapeless collection of shadows that made up the cloak in the moonlight.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

The figure turned slowly and I felt his eyes—definitely male—on my face. I also could sense an air of surprise around him. “You can see me?”

“Yes,” I said impatiently. “Why would I be here talking to you, if I couldn’t see you.”

“Oh,” he said, digesting that. “Most people can’t.”

I waited for him to explain who he was and what he was doing there, but he just stood there, looking down at me, not even moving.

I sighed. “So… who are you?”

“Someone,” he answered, his voice sounding as if surprised he had answered at all—even as unhelpful a name that one might be.

“What are you doing here?” I prodded, wondering if maybe he needed some kind of help—perhaps he was injured and that explained his reluctance to talk.

Even without being able to see his face, I could see that my question confused him even further. He swayed a little from side to side—indecisively. “I’m not sure,” he said.

“Do you come here often?” I asked dryly.

He looked past me, over my shoulder.

And vanished.

No transport spell, no ghostly luminescence in his trail—nothing.

He was just gone.

“Well,” I said, shaking my head. “Either I’m still asleep and having a very boring dream, or I just met the most boring of all Magical creatures.”

I actually felt bad for saying that—what if he could hear me? Maybe he was just very shy.

Well, whoever or whatever he was, he was gone now.

Donovan hadn’t moved, except for breathing, the whole time I was away. I slid back into his arms, holding my breath until I was curled against him again. He didn’t wake until my icy feet pressed against his. His eyes shot open.

He blinked in confusion for a second, figuring out where he was and why I was beside him. He turned toward me, smiling sleepily. “Why are your feet so cold?” he murmured. I loved the way his voice cracked, so intimate and only half-awake.

I kissed him. “It’s not important. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Oh, good,” he said, sliding his hands down my back and pulling me closer against him. He started to feather little kisses along the corners of my mouth. “Are you still tired?”

“A little,” I laughed, “but apparently you aren’t.”

“I can sleep later.” He rolled so that he was on top of me, his weight resting on his elbows as he looked down on my face, his fingers stroking back my hair. “God, you are so beautiful.”

I tilted my face up toward him, drawing him closer to me.

Dawn would be coming soon, but for another few hours, he was mine.

Chapter Eight

As it happened it was past mid-morning by the time hunger and a need for separate bushes forced us to abandon our little nest. I smiled a little sadly as I rolled up our packs and blankets—we had stolen so much time already.

Oh, well, we had a lifetime to spend together.

The thought made my heart dance and leap in my chest. I couldn’t wait—waking up every morning like this morning, to Donovan’s kisses.

In Donovan’s bed.

I flushed at my own rather racy thoughts and went back to packing our bags. If I kept thinking like that, we would never leave this clearing again.

Not that I could forget the urgency of our errand.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat, and trying not to focus on Donovan, who was taking his sweet time putting on his shirt. I was sure that was for my benefit—there wasn’t a spare pound on his lean frame, but he was all muscle—wiry and tight. I swallowed and tried to focus. “We don’t have to go far, but today is going to be a bigger challenge. We’re going to probably end up facing some shades—fortunately I think I have enough Magic to take care of them, as long as I don’t have to do anything else Magical for the rest of the day. Geez, I miss the days when I had access to my powers.” I frowned.