For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (22 page)

    
For a moment, her eyes get all fiery and her mouth tightens.

    
“Please.”  I need to remember she doesn’t take orders.

    
She lifts her chin, smirks, and slides down beside me, her legs brushing mine.  She pulls her arms close to her body, my hand brushes her cheek and lips. 

    
For a long time, she lays quiet, and I listen to her heart and breath settle into a close-to-sleep rhythm.  She speaks, a half asleep tease.  “You smell like summer.”

    
I smile down at her, though she can’t see because her eyes are closed.  “What do you know of Summer?”

    
She draws my hand closer still, curling her body around so she cuddles my arm, and her mouth presses closer to my flesh.  I count her inhales and exhales, waiting.  “A memory…” she muses.  “You smell like a memory of summer.  I assume your home smells like summer…being Summer Court and all.”

    
Pressing my head against the headboard, I can’t help my bitter tone. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

    
“You’re happy when you’re there?”

    
I slide my thumb over the back of her hand.  Her knuckles are bruised from punching me.  I hate myself for that.  “I like it better here.”

    
Her eyes open, half asleep, and she turns her head to look at me.  “But, you said before you missed it there.”

    
I knit my brow.  “I know.  And I do, but…it’s hard to explain.”  I swallow.  “Both places feel like home and there are aspects I love and miss about both when I can’t have them, but…I prefer what I have here.”  I prefer you.

    
“Is that why you’re in the park so much?”

    
I lick my lips, hating that I just can’t tell her how I feel.  Why is this so hard?  “Yeah, I guess so.”  Liar.

    
“Oh,” she says through a yawn, her breath hot on my hand.

    
I’m keeping her up.  I shouldn’t.  We have school in the morning and I know that’s important to her.  “You should sleep.”

    
She blinks rapidly, as if trying to fight off sleep.  “What about you?”

    
“I would like to sleep with you tonight…if it’s okay.” 
Please let me have you, just a little while.  Before it has to end.

    
She closes her eyes and is quiet for a long moment.  Long enough that I think she might be trying for sleep, but then she says, “Are going to kill me?”

    
I chance her ire by sliding down beside her, face to face.  I take her free hand, pair it against the bruised one, and draw them both to my mouth.  I kiss her purple knuckles.  A tiny smile starts and then slips as she is drawn deeper and deeper to sleep.  I lean forward and I kiss her little wrinkled brow.

    
I can’t kill this girl.

    
I would rather die.

    
“No,” I breathe against her cinnamon and cocoa skin. 

    
“Mmmn,” she breathes.  “O-k.” It’s a two breath consent, but it means everything to me. 

    
Smiling, I let the peace Jeanette brings me carry me into a sleep more peaceful than I’ve ever known.

Twyla

     I wait, my consciousness suspended in the mortal realm, for a long time after Tamrin falls asleep.  I’m confused by his actions.

    
Admittedly, I often watch Tamrin at play among the humans.  My proximity to Roxel has given me a unique interest in both his actions and him.  And, perhaps I am as taken with his beauty as Roxel is.  He has a haunting statuesque physique that, even as a young boy, caught the eyes of the queen of Summer Court and held them.  The poor fool never had a chance. And perhaps that’s why he acts the way he does.

    
It’s not uncommon for him to take a human girl or two on his visits to Earth. Besides the obvious jab at Roxel’s claim on him, I assume he has a deep need to reassert control.  The
Aos Si
in court drag him about in such an appalling manner that it doesn’t surprise me he takes out his frustrations on the human girls who wander about his forest.

    
It must give him great pleasure knowing, that against humans, he is the one with the power.  Roxel has molded him into such an alluring creature that when it comes to the humans, his presence is like a gift.  In his forest, he is like a benevolent god, picking and choosing which humans will be blessed with his present interest.  And when he does reveal himself, he is the one in control.  He can request anything and they’ll give it to him freely.  In all truth, he mirrors the way the
Aos Si
treat him.

    
However, he lacks the finesse of a seasoned
Aos Si
courtier and therein lies the difference between him and them.  Unlike the
Aos Si
, who use subterfuge and manipulation to get what they want, Tamrin uses sheer force of awe.  He’s like the human’s vampire – enthralling and stupefying to get what he wants.  I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it.

    
But he’s not turning that power on this human girl.  At least he didn’t just now.  Which makes me wonder what, exactly, he’s doing with her.  He can’t want something from her, because he already would have asked for it and she would have willingly given.  I have yet to see a human say no to him.  He always asks for such trivial things.  Locks of hair, buttons, ribbons, a kiss.  Simple things that aren’t hard to part with.  And when he does ask for something further, he always asks knowing full well what the answer will be.  He doesn’t like being told no.  Perhaps because it’s such a common response to his entreaties back home.  So, he makes sure to ask the right person for larger sacrifices.

    
He must not want anything from her.  Yet he’s here in this human girl’s house, sleeping beside her but not taking advantage of a very easy situation.  She is nearly as lovely as he is, so I can’t imagine him not desiring her.  Yet he didn’t even try to woo her or ask for a kiss.

    
I scan the room, searching for something that might indicate why Tamrin is risking Roxel’s anger in order to remain on Earth with this girl.  I find nothing.

    
Annoyed, I begin the reverse incantation to bring my consciousness back into my body, which is waiting in my chambers in Otherworld.

    
…And then something catches my eye.  A bright, crimson smudge against the dark wood of the desk.  I stop my incantation and lean as far into the glass as I can.  So much so, that if Tamrin or the girl were to wake, they’d see my face reflected in the glass vase of water I’m using to scry through.

    
I eye the splotch, tracing lines with squinting eyes until I realize it’s a petal.  A petal.  Yes, I’m in a vase, of course there’d be a flower in the vase.  I reposition myself and glance up.  Unmistakably, I find myself staring at a perfect red rose.

I draw myself away from the scrying bowl that allows me to use my Talent to project my sight into bodies of water in other spaces and times.  Face dripping, I stand on shaking legs and gasp for breath.  My Talent for water is powerful, but it’s still hard trying to see across worlds.  A slight headache presses my eyes and ears.  My stomach rumbles, crying for something to replace the spent energy, but I ignore it and head toward Roxel’s throne-room.

    
When I enter, she dismisses her entourage and leans forward, her dark hair dripping from her shoulders and her eyes bronze with intent expectation.  “Well?”

    
I know better than to tell her what I saw.  She’d fly into a rage and kill the girl at once.  Anything to get that rose back.  I don’t want her to do that.  Not yet at least.  I want to know what Tamrin is going to do about his situation.  He must have something up his sleeve and my own obsession with the Summer Court’s toy is enough for me to hold my tongue, even in the presence of my queen.

    
I make a perplexed face and shrug.  It’s a practiced maneuver that she has come to know and trust, despite the fact that it’s usually a lie.  “Nothing yet.”

    
One of her brows arches and her lips part like I’ve kicked the wind out of her lungs.  “Yet?”

    
My face not breaking from my well practiced veil of innocence, I say, “You
do
want me to keep watching him, don’t you?”

    
Roxel sits back.  “Yes.  Yes, of course I do.”

    
That’s what I thought
.  I bow and excuse myself.  As I leave, I can’t help but smile to myself.  She’s so blind.

Tamrin

    
The alarm goes off and Jeanette rolls out of my arms to reach for it.  I let her silence the obnoxious thing, but I quickly pull her back against me.  She gives a disgruntled squeak and struggles, but not very hard.

    
“What are you doing?” she demands, her voice groggy.  “You have to get out of my bed before Dad comes up here.”

    
Growling, I press my face into her hair.  I love her hair.  I love the color and the texture and the scent of it.  It’s like its own kind of aphrodisiac.

    
She twists in my arms, coming chest to chest with me, which wakes me in a whole new way.  “Hey,” she shoves at my chest.  “Wake up!”  She punches me.

    
I grab her arm and roll on top of her.  “Okay, I’m awake.  Violence is not necessary.”

    
She lets out a breath and her arm slackens, so I let her go.  She looks away, finding some invisible nothing to pick at on my shoulder.  I stare at her, relishing in having her body pressed against mine.  In a moment, she’ll freak out, I’m sure, but for now…

    
“Did you mean what you said last night or were you just saying that?” she finally asks.

    
I pick up a piece of her hair and twirl it around my finger.  “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you said yes?”

    
She jerks her chin, meeting my eyes.  “I wasn’t awake enough to think about whether it was a trick or not.”  She tries to look annoyed, but I can tell she’s faking.  “You shouldn’t talk to a girl about something so serious when she doesn’t have all her faculties.  That’s taking advantage.”

    
“Am I taking advantage of you?”  I shift slightly, making a purposeful rocking motion with my hips to make sure she’s aware of every inch of both of us.

    
A hard blush springs up her neck and floods her cheeks; her face turns to one of dread.

    
I chuckle at her.  “Relax, Jean.  You’re safe with me.  I promise.” 

    
She swallows hard, a delicate bob of her neck.  I want to kiss that neck, but I restrain myself.  There’s a delicate balance that needs to be maintained between us.  I have to push a little, otherwise I’ll never get in, but I can’t push too hard because I don’t want to hurt or upset her.  Green-gold eyes turn on me.  “Then you’re not going to take my heart anymore?”

    
I stare at her for a long time.  “Take?”  Not in the way she thinks.  Not with the knife, not with the blood, definitely not to give to Roxel.  “No,” I breathe.  I push myself onto my elbows, so I can look more deeply into her eyes. I want her to see the truth in my face.  “I still want your heart, Jean.  But I won’t take it from you.  I’ll only accept it if you give it to me.”  It’s as close to a confession as I’m going to get.  At least for now.  One day I’ll be able to say it – be able to say: “For your heart, I’d do anything.”

    
I hear her father’s feet on the steps.  Rolling off of her I slip from under the covers and get to my feet.  I go to the rose, sitting prim and perfect in a crystal vase on her desk and plop into her chair.  I run my fingers over the petals, counting how many have fallen in the night.

    
As her father makes it to the landing, I glance over my shoulder.  She’s making the bed, her back to me.  When I first saw her, I knew I wanted her for her beauty and her body, even her movement fascinated me.  But now that I’ve been with her, now that she has been revealed to me, now that I’ve felt her sleeping breath on my skin in the dead of night, now that there’s a fierce loyalty that I can’t explain within me…I know I want her for everything she has.

    
I want her heart.  Not for Roxel, but for me.

    
The door opens.  “Hey, kids.”

    
Jeanette looks up, sleepy eyed and without her glasses, her hair disheveled.  “Hey, Dad.”

    
I give him a nod in greeting.

    
“Just making sure you’re up.”

    
Jeanette looks to me.  “Yeah, Tam got me up.”

    
Mr. Sauderheim smiles at me, an odd sort of look in his eyes.  “Oh, well, I guess I didn’t need to come up then.”

    
I smile back, understanding the expression.  He knew one day he’d have to learn to share her with someone.  I’m glad I apparently got the job, though part of me hates that I haven’t won it the right way.  I wish I had a do-over.  I wish I had never asked Leah to help me infiltrate Jean’s world.  I will never know what I’ve truly won as my own or what her Bend has handed to me.  “Nope.”

    
He closes the door and disappears with a
thu-thud
,
thu-thud
down the stairs.

    
“Oh crap, he didn’t ask about breakfast.  I hope he doesn’t decide that today’s a waffle day.”

    
I get a mental image of a pile of massive buttery waffles with sliced strawberries and fresh whipped cream on top. 

    
A petal falls from the rose, plopping onto the back of my hand.  “Your mom made waffles,” I say without thinking, my mind intent on the memory.

    
“What?” she squeaks, I sense her penetrating stare on the back of my head, but I don’t turn.

    
Pulling a leg up, I run my fingers through my hair.  As I twist it into a braid, I say, “And she wore a pink and white apron.  The one hanging on the inside of the cabinet with the broom.”  Another petal.  They fall like clockwork…The crystal dish is getting too small to hold them all.

    
“How do you know that?”  There’s dread in her voice.  “How long have you been spying on this house?”

    
“I’ve never spied, Jean.  I’ve only ever seen you from the backyard.  How many times do I have to tell you?  Spying implies trying to stay secret, I was never hiding from you.  If you’d have bothered looking, you could have seen me.”  But I shrug and answer her question.  “I remember the boy.  So, I’ve been
spying
since then, I suppose.”

    
I poke at the petals.  When one falls, I remember something.  Are these petals linked to my memory?  Things I’ve forgotten coming to the forefront at the whim of this rose?  Or are they his memories?  It would make more sense considering most of these memories have something to do with Jean.  Did Roxel turn Timmy into a rose?  I’ve seen her do something like that to people who crossed her…And I’ve already discovered she linked me with the roses to guarantee I protected them, or lose my life otherwise.  Does that mean I’m linked with him now?  I pull my hand away from the rose, unnerved at the idea.  If I’m connected to Timmy’s rose, then what would happen if another rose was plucked?  Would I get that person’s memories, too?  How many dozens of minds could crash into mine, confuse me like Timmy’s has?  Are my feelings for Jean only because of Timmy’s memories of his love for her?  If another rose were to be picked would I love that man’s girl as well?

    
“Right.  I’d almost forgotten about the Timmy thing.”  Her voice is hard and frosty.  I stiffen, suddenly aware I’ve reversed the progress I’ve made with her since returning from Otherworld last night.