No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) (34 page)

Oh, holy
crow
!
It had been Collum.

Had it been Collum, not Gideon? Other
than the difference in eye color…there was really no difference at all. I tried
replaying every ‘dream’ meeting with Gideon over in my mind, but something felt
odd…

I sat up and put my shirt and sweater
back on. With the blissful heat of his body away from me I’d become very
chilled. Extremely chilled. Clear down to my bones. I began to shake
uncontrollably. I felt so hot suddenly. But frozen too. My head began to whirl,
worse than when he had been spinning me around our imaginary bonfire. The
ground was falling out from beneath me. I didn’t feel well. Suddenly, nothing
made sense.

“Collum?” I managed to get out before
the spiraling had me sinking back down to the ground, with the thought of…‘here
we go again’.

~
Chapter Thirty-One ~

I
sat up in bed. It wasn’t my bed. It was not my bedroom.

Oh shit. I scrambled backwards until I
was flush up against the headboard with nowhere else to back up to. I turned
and looked at it. It was heavily carved wood, incredibly old looking, with big
plush velvet pillows stacked against it. The room was dimly lit, an amber floor
lamp that was more of a lantern, had been left burning next to the bed, and a
low fire was aflame in the hearth at the other end of the room, they gave the
only illumination.

Don’t freak out…

I’d been at a party with the others.
They would not have let anything happen to me, would not have let me wander off
from the party.

This must be Liam’s. No. Liam’s did not
have this style of furniture. I looked around and took in my surroundings the
best I could with the minimal amount of light that was available. Maybe
Michael’s? It was too masculine to be either Serena’s or Erin’s.

I tried to remember how I’d gotten here,
but I couldn’t. I tried to remember anything after dancing around the fire. Zip
there also.

I looked down at myself. Shit. Again. I
was not wearing my jeans, my lace blouse, or even my sweater. I was now dressed
in a plain, dark grey thermal pull-over…and my panties. I could actually feel
the color rise in my cheeks. This was not my thermal top. And I did not recall
changing from my clothes into this.

I
criss
-crossed
my legs under me. I tried again to think back to my last lucid moments. There
had been lots of food, lots of cider and wine—too much cider and wine
perhaps—much dancing around a bonfire, I tossed a stone into the fire, watched
the stars, imagined I saw a faun at the edge of the woods…my brain tickled.
What else? I knew there was more.

My heart was pounding, my mouth dry, my
lips hot…what was that about? Oh…Oh yeah…a lot of talking, with Serena, Liam,
Erin and Michael. Oh geez. Talk about being in love. Liam had guessed it was
Gideon. Michael knew it was.

Oh, where were my clothes. I really
should find them and sneak out of here…wherever here might be. I glanced around
the room again. I didn’t see my clothes anywhere. Great.

I bent forward, placing my head in my
hands. I was running the entire night through my head once again when I heard
the door open. I froze.

“We need to talk, Draghail.” My heart
skipped a beat. I raised my head at the sound of Gideon’s voice. Relief.
Briefly and only a small measure, but relief still. I figured I might be out of
woods as far as having done something stupid and regrettable with a stranger,
but probably not so much as for having maybe done something stupid and
regrettable with Gideon earlier today—or was it yesterday now? He had been far
beyond fuming, intensely mad at me then.

Wait. I was at Gideon’s.

I looked down and smoothed my hands over
the covers. This was Gideon’s bed…

This. Was. Gideon’s. Bed.

Words that made my brain dance and spin
like mad. Changed the rate of my heart and breathing instantly. Every inch of
me became ultra heated and I had to think to breathe.

“We need to talk? That’s never anything
good.” I joked, my voice barely more than a whisper in the hush of the room. I
hoped I was just joking. “Where are my clothes?” I gestured at my body, the
shirt that was not mine.

My voice was weak and shaky from a fine
mix of fear and desire. Fear because I’d heard those words before—‘we need to
talk’—they most always led to sadness. And desire because against my will I now
had those oh-so-familiar visions bouncing and flashing through my mind. Gideon
in the
Draíochta
ar Linn, Gideon wrapping his arms around me in the woods, Gideon kissing me at Elysium…Gideon
on the horse. Why was that one making my brain itch, like I should remember
something else?

I bit my lower
lip and tried to clear my mind, tried to get a better grip on the night. I
looked down at the velvet comforter over my legs.

“You couldn’t be
expected to sleep in your clothes from that party.” His voice was tight. “They
were covered in debris from the woods and reeked of elderberry wine and spiced
cider.”

Was he mad I had
gone to the celebration? Was he mad at them too? Or was this just another
special rule set aside just for me?

“You passed out,
Michael and Liam brought you here. They were concerned.”

“I passed out? I
never pass out from drinking…I never drink
that
much.”

“Apparently you
did tonight.”

I gripped the
blanket in my hands. Why couldn’t I remember anything past looking at the moon
and stars?

“I didn’t drink
enough to pass out. The last thing I remember, I was perfectly lucid. I didn’t
feel much more than happy and tipsy. I…I saw something…in the woods…at the edge
of the woods.” I shook my head, unable to see it in my mind now.

“Well, you did
indeed pass out completely or you wouldn’t be here. Michael phoned me.” He
paused. His brow furrowed. That extremely alluring-to-me way, creasing slightly
right between his eyes, it always signified him thinking deeply. Was he truly
concerned or just royally pissed off?

“What’s up with
you, Milseachd?” he asked evenly.

I shrugged. Bit
my lower lip again, trying to hold away my emotions. I was confused and felt on
the verge of tears. I had no idea what was happening to me, other than my
baffling feelings for him. How was I supposed to tell him? I couldn’t tell him.

I recalled
perfectly how he’d looked at me this afternoon, in the garden of the Elysium.
He’d looked sickened and infuriated. What was I supposed to do with that? He
was too closed off to me now to tell him how I felt for him and expect anything
happy in return for the effort. I’m sure if I couldn’t be with Liam, there was
no way that being with the Caomhnoir was allowed or appropriate.

Gideon sat down
on the bed, directly in front of me. His legs just a scant inch or so away from
mine. He was searching my face intently.

“Why don’t you
talk to me? Why
won’t
you talk to me?” he asked gently, his voice so
soothing, and it made me feel like collapsing into him and crying. I was so
very tired.

I shook my head
almost imperceptibly. “I can’t.” I shrugged again. He was too near…and not
nearly close enough.

“I know things
haven’t been perfect. Nobody imagines this happening to them. It’s only been a
few weeks. I expect anger, resentment, mourning, the works.” He spread his arms
wide and gave me that small, light smile I so adored, then he sighed. “But I
simply can’t pin you down. Your culls are beyond perfect. You have adjusted to
this life amazingly well. Yet…” he shrugged again, lifted his palms up in front
of him and let them settle to his legs, exasperated, “strange things keep
happening with you, and we clash and we clash…” he trailed off.

My heart ached,
it tumbled, fear wrapped around it. This wasn’t heading anywhere good. I could
feel panic building in me. My throat beginning to constrict with painful,
unshed tears. My eyes flashed up to him. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” I cut
in.

“What?”

“Earlier
today…or yesterday.” I glanced around for a clock, didn’t see one. When was it
anyway? “At Elysium. When I touched you, when I…” I shook my head. How could I
even try to explain what I didn’t understand myself? “I said those words...I
didn’t know…I don’t know how I knew them…” I brushed the hair from my face, but
then looked down anyway.

 I didn’t
want him to guess at anything he might see in my eyes, displayed on my face. I
saw the sheets and blanket gathered in my lap, balled into my fists. I could
just see his jean clad legs, and a bare foot, where one leg was crooked up and
under the other and it rested on the bed. So casual. So out of place,
casualness, with where this talk seemed to be heading. If I wasn’t so nervous,
a total mess, I would probably have found myself smiling at the thought of
Gideon being so at ease and relaxed.

“If you give me
my clothes, I’ll go, get out of your way,” I blurted out, flustered by his
nearness and worried about what he ‘had to say’. After the prior warnings of
worse things to come and unimaginable torments, combined with his reaction to
me this afternoon, I shouldn’t be anywhere near him. He hadn’t had enough
cooling off time. I didn’t want any more of his anger or disappointment. And
how long until something that obviously freaked him out happened again?

“You’re not
going anywhere tonight
. It’s late, you’ve been drinking—”

“I did not drink enough to pass out.” I
bristled.

What I wanted was answers, full
disclosure about what I was and why these things were happening to me, why I
was different. Why I had this ember-like light that came from me, why I had
wings made of a darker version of it, why I could cull so differently, why I
knew this language, why…why…why.

It went beyond being of the Bháis, I was
positive of that. He should have come back from wherever he’d been with the
answers. Uldwynah had said so.

And oh my gods…that’s right, he had
actually been in the dreams, my dreams, we’d shared dreams…or had somehow gone
to the same place while I was sleeping. He’d wanted me in those dreams. His
eyes had burned for me. Even more questions to be answered. Would his answers
condemn me?

“Well, regardless, something made you
pass out…and we have things to discuss.” His scent swirled around me, making me
lightheaded, making me drunk on him. Gods, he smelled incredible…was that
vanilla in the mix now? His eyes were wintry and guarded.

“I don’t want to discuss anything
Gideon. There’s nothing to discuss.” Panic seized me. I looked up at him. Into
his eyes. Trying again to remember to breathe. Oh. How I loved that face. I
wanted nothing more than to put my hands in his hair, pull his face to mine,
put my lips on his. My skin ignited at the thought and I looked away. If I
could just get my heart to behave instead of threatening to burst out of me,
maybe then I could think more coherently.

“I should just go and I’ll see you in
the morning,” I paused, looked back at him. “If I fucked up tonight by going to
that party, or earlier today with…well, whatever all that was, I’m sorry
Gideon.” My heart was fluttering rapidly in my chest like a little bird against
the bars of its cage. Tears were brimming. I only had to look at him and all
coherent or logical discourse flew from my head.

His reply was to take my hand in
his—something that sent small electric shocks up my arm, made me shiver clear
through my being—and flattened it against his chest. I could feel his heart,
feel its rhythmic beating.

“So you do have a heart,” I laughed
softly. I’d questioned its existence.

I was looking at his hand over mine,
where they rested on his black T-shirt clad chest, wondering at it. The tension
melted from my worried brow. I was consumed by how the flesh of his palm felt
against my skin. How his chest felt beneath my palm, the rise and fall of his
breathing. My spirit quieted, relaxed. In that moment…there was nothing else.

I wanted to look at him, but I couldn’t
bring myself to raise my head. I didn’t want to lose the moment. And what was
the moment? What was happening? Was it some sort of apology for this afternoon?

Or was it leading up to his goodbye, and
something awful for me? As if anything could be more tormenting than to be away
from him forever.

Well, if this was it, if this might be
the last of it, I’d make the most of this moment. I sucked in my lower lip; bit
it, hesitating, trying to build up my courage. I tentatively leaned forward,
eased my hand down to rest on his stomach, placing my cheek and ear where my
hand had been. The well-worn cotton was soft beneath my face. His hand stayed
over mine. I closed my eyes, fearing that any moment he might push me away, as
he had earlier when I’d gotten too close. I listened to the steady beating of
Gideon’s heart. I smiled. He didn’t move me away from him, or pull away from
me.

It was getting harder to breathe, more
difficult to think. His hand moved from mine and for a moment, a moment of
dread, I thought he
was
going to move away or push me away, but instead
he placed his hand against the side of my head, over my ear, holding my head to
his chest, his heart. I relaxed a little more into him. Felt the warmth of his
body beneath his shirt radiating from him, warming my face. I thought of every
close moment we’d had. Every moment that I’d wished for him to reach for me.
Every moment I’d wished to touch him.

“And it even beats,” I joked, almost a
whisper in my desire strained voice. He said something in response, I could
feel the vibration of his voice rumble in his chest, but with his hand laid
gently over my ear, I couldn’t quite make out what he’d said. I decided to
ignore it, in case it was something I didn’t want to hear. I could stay this
way forever.