Ripples (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 2) (21 page)

     It was Zale.   

“How did this happen?” It was the third time Shaylee had muttered the question to herself in the past half hour.

     I didn’t say anything, hoping she wouldn’t want a response. I gazed at her, wondering if her arm was hurting her more than she let on. It was making a bloodied mark on the bandage again.

     We were on the island, safely inside Patrick’s house. It was quiet here, so quiet, every little sound made us jump and I couldn’t abandon my fear that someone could have followed us here. And I knew just which someone I was thinking of.

     We were sitting on the familiar wooden bench, facing the empty fireplace. Shaylee’s hands were knotted in her lap, but every time she flexed her arm she would wince. With every minute, we grew more anxious, wondering what was happening to the others.

     “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” I asked timidly, fairly certain of what the answer would be.

     Shaylee sighed heavily; I had never seen her so worked up. “No, I’m fine. I just can’t figure out how we could have missed this plot. It was must have been obvious, if even you heard about it.” Her hand waved out toward me, motioning her frustration.

     I sat silently, not wanting to give away my source of knowledge. She stayed still for some time and began to look more like herself. I remembered, once, Tunder had told me she was the Lathmorian strategist. Recalling that fact, I realized how frustrating this really must be for her.

     “You don’t think there could be traitors in Lathmor do you?” Her face was calm yet stern with concentration.

     “I guess it’s possible,” I shrugged. “But don’t you think this attack was just random? An attack to kidnap you?”

     It was Shaylee’s turn to shrug, and she winced “I just don’t know anymore.” She paused for a moment, “How did you find out?”

     “I was coming back anyway,” I lied. “And when I saw the dead guard, I realized what was going on. I saw the Hyven soldiers waiting there at the edge of the forest and took off to warn you.” It was partly the truth.

     “But how did you know they were coming for me?”

     “I overheard them,” I said quickly. My mind was sharp tonight and I hoped my face didn’t betray me. Shaylee sighed and looked out the window.

     “Would you like to lie down?” I asked, remembering how I had found her earlier.

     “Sure,” she said and winced again. I stood up and helped her to lie down gently and watched her face for any signs of pain. My eyes told me what I knew; her arm was bothering her more than she let on.

     “How about we put you in bed,” I asked, but it was more of a statement than a question. She was too tired to argue and forced herself up, to follow me upstairs. I tried to ignore the familiar smell of wood shavings, and the memories it brought to mind.

      “Not here,” she said, leaning against me. Her eyes roved over the bed as though it were a coffin.

     “He would want you to,” I said and helped her crawl under the covers.

     The scent,
his
scent lingered on everything and I could see him more clearly than ever before. The room spoke his name as though he was standing in the room with us. A yearning in my heart grew and I turned away from Shaylee.

     “Get some rest,” I said, but she was already asleep.

     Making my way downstairs, I tried not to think about where I was, but the memories kept coming like waves on the seashore that washed over me. There was a time I had said I would never return here, and now I knew why. The overwhelming sense of loss was inescapable. Wherever I went, I could deny what had happened, but not here. Not in the place where the walls and furniture had been built by his hands and everything had his own personal touch. It was here I had to face his memory, face the fact he was gone.

     The unbidden image of Zale entered my mind; the monster’s blades flashing through the night and the blood splattering his face. Like a tight corset around my chest, the memory of what that warrior used to be constricted my lungs and I had to gasp for breath. I rushed to the front door, letting the tears stream down my face. I was stuck, lost in a space between wanting to throw the pain aside and embracing it completely.

     There was one place I could go that was his place, his and mine alone. Others had come and gone from the cabin. But the cave was solely his, until the day he had shown it to me. With a thundering heart, I wondered if I dared to go there. A surging need rose within my chest, forcing me forward into the dark night. I needed to be in that place, where he first told me what I meant to him.

     The walk to the cave was cool and pleasant with the sound of crashing waves in the distance. Grass crunched softly beneath my toes and I reveled in the feeling, not wanting to experience what was inside the cave. Before I even stepped into the shadows of the open rock, I could feel the crisp damp draft swirling toward me as though beckoning me to step into its cool embrace. Goosebumps rose on my flesh, and already the memories began to roll over me; more forceful than I had expected.

     I followed the wall with outstretched fingertips, waiting for the end of the wall on my left that would signify the entrance to his room. The darkness was overpowering, and I was thankful for the matches I knew would be in the room up ahead. My fingers met air, and I walked blindly into the open space, struggling to find the torch that had the matches strapped to it. After a few strikes, the fire caught and latched onto the torch in my hand.

     The tears were already falling freely when I turned to take in the round jagged walls, the unlit torches, and gritty dirt floor. The place seemed empty, as though something that had made this room come to life had been removed. It was depressing and I wanted to fix it. I thought it might be the lack of torchlight from the flickering orange flames.

     I dashed around the room lighting all the torches, illuminating the scratch marked walls, where at one time he had marked each passing day. Quickly, I turned around in circles to see if it made a difference. But it didn’t help, and I knew why. Patrick was the one who had lit this place. It had been his manner, his smile, and his light cheerful eyes. He had been the magic in this room and now, now, he was gone.

     A sob filled my throat and I choked it out. I let the emotions that had been building ever since stepping on the island break free. I poured them out of my chest, the coughs breaking through my lips and echoing in the room. Stumbling over to the wall, I placed my hand over the marks, somehow hoping he would come back to me if I touched them. Nothing happened and the tears spilled over, my heart shattering more than I had thought possible.

     
Why did you leave me here?
My heart cried out with no answer and the salty drops kept coming. My slow mind was surprised how it hurt and how much I still loved him. I thought I had accepted the truth, that there had no longer been a hope of having him again, but I was wrong. Part of me had still been holding onto him, and somewhere in my heart, I knew I would always hold onto him.

     “So this is where you choose to hide?”

     I whipped around, my hair settling around my shoulders slowly. The tears still rolled down my cheeks, but stopped forming at the sight before me. All sadness swept from my body, replaced by a sudden terrifying fear.

     Zale stood before me, with his large body blocking the opening of the room. His chest was bare, slowly oozing fresh blood from various wounds that had cleared in the ocean. Gashes slit up and down his arms in crisscross patterns and I wondered about his pain, but upon meeting his gaze, I knew he felt nothing.

     His face flickered in the firelight from the torches, and he looked at me with a vengeance that was more terrible than anything I had seen. His gaze was unrelenting as he took in my fear, and one side of his mouth curled into a sneer.

     “You surprised me,” he gave a short laugh. “I thought my threat to you would have been enough. But I was wrong.” Instinctively, I retreated and my back pressed into the rock wall behind me.

     I didn’t know what to say or do. I had no hope of fighting him off, and no one would be able to hear me if I screamed. I was at his mercy, and I knew he didn’t give mercy to those who betrayed him.

     He took a step forward and I hated the fact that I flinched backward. Another soft chuckle escaped his lips and he continued to walk, the blood slowly slipping down his muscles.

     I tore my gaze from his as he came closer to me, not wanting to see the anger in his eyes anymore. A strong hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder pressing me further into the wall. I bit back a cry of pain when a jutting point scratched my back.

     His other hand reached toward my arm and pulled my dagger from its sheath. My heart started pounding harder than it ever had before. His grip tightened on my shoulder and the cold blade pushed against my chin raising it up high. I could no longer look at the dirt floor; all I could see was his bloodied chest and solid throat.

     “Any last words before I kill you?” The cold metal pressed against my skin, but this time it was the sharp end of the blade that pressed against my throat. I felt a little prick against my skin and inhaled sharply. A warm trickle of blood ran over the blade and down my neck. I tried to summon some courage, but it wouldn’t come. All I could think of was Patrick, and my heart cried out to him,
I love you
.

     For a fleeting moment I thought I would see him again soon, but then reality hit me in an overpowering wave. I wouldn’t see him again, because he was before me now. Somehow, he had been repressed in this body, in this warped minded creature that was Morven’s puppet. Everything about him was different except, for the eyes. It didn’t matter if those eyes were angry, they were the closest I would get to him.

     “Look at me,” I gasped and snapped my gaze up to Zale’s, staring into his eyes. For a moment the pupils widened in surprise, but then they narrowed again.

     I was right, they were his and I felt the tears spill slowly over as I looked into their warm darkness. I felt enveloped in them and let the emotions I had held at bay for so long run over. My heart, however twisted and weird as it seemed, yearned for the warrior in front of me. I looked into his eyes and knew I loved him. I had loved him as he used to be and loved him as he was. In my mind, I could see the recurring dream and Patrick was there, waiting to walk beside me on the shores of eternity.

     I could go with him, even if he would only exist in memory. 

     In that moment something changed, I felt it just before I saw it. Somehow, the dagger had moved back from my throat a fraction of a centimeter, and I tore my gaze away from the brown depths, to watch as it disappeared and thudded onto the packed dirt. My heart still throbbed heavily, wondering what was happening until I looked back up at Zale. His face was closer than it had been before, and I had less than a moment to realize what was going to happen before his lips were on mine.

     Sparks flew immediately on impact; he was kissing me with a deep passion and firm, strong lips. I was baffled and didn’t know what to do or think. This was a kiss like nothing I had ever experienced before. Cautiously, I kissed him back and when I did, he groaned softly and pulled my body up against his. My every curve was matched to his hard muscle; the feeling was wonderful and dangerous at the same time.

     His hands flexed and grasped me harder with each pressing of his lips. My hands automatically reached around his neck and locked behind his head, but as the kiss went on my fingers found his hair. I pulled him down harder toward me as if we weren’t close enough; he groaned softly and locked his hand in my hair.

     As if our minds were connected, our lips slowed at the same time. His arms relaxed slightly and the hand that had been locked in my hair slid down my shoulder to my back. I moved my arms to their original position around his neck and eased away from his lips. I was desperate for air, and from the sound of him, he could use some too.

     In the rippling light, I looked up at him as his head bowed down over me. Everything seemed to dim and he was all I could see. I smiled softly while I tried to catch my breath, and he returned the expression. His chest heaved against mine. A slight blush crept over my cheeks and I looked down at his chest. He chuckled gently and I realized how different this short laugh was compared to the ones I had heard a few minutes ago.

    I was at a loss for words and didn’t know what to say or do. I was confused and not sure I should have let him kiss me like that. Was it wrong to kiss him the way I did when I had been looking into his eyes like they were Patrick’s? Had I been thinking that that kiss was from Patrick?

    
No, you knew it was him.
That had been clear, and yet why had it felt right?

     Zale leaned his head in again for a kiss. I let him move his lips against mine, gently testing how different it was from the kisses Patrick had given me. Those kisses had always ended with smiles as Patrick couldn’t keep his lips loose while he kissed me, but Zale didn’t kiss that way. He was serious and gentle, as he covered and uncovered my lips over and over again. Our bodies molded together, until I felt the blood of his wounds on my shirt.

     “Zale,” I pulled back; he looked perplexed. “I need to get you some bandages.” He shook his head vehemently, no.