The REASON Series - the Complete Collection (31 page)

We approach two doors, one on either side of the hall. "Red and his wife, Maria, live there." He nods toward the door on the left. "These are the only two apartments on this floor, and you can only access it by key card or a security code." I feel a little more comfortable now, knowing it's secure. "Also, Connor will be manning the hallway until around midnight, then Andrew will take over until morning."
 

He places a key in the door on the right, turns the knob, pushes it open and ushers me in. I look around cautiously and he reassures me, "Red checked it after we left the hospital. There is no one in here."

I take a few steps inside. The floors are a beautiful, light-colored hardwood. There is a closed door immediately to the right. "The laundry room," Mikah says, opening the door. Inside are a washer and dryer and some shelves with detergent and dryer sheets on them.
 

He steps across the hall. "Here is one of the bathrooms. The other is off of the main bedroom." He turns on the light. The tile is a pretty royal blue, the cabinets and accents a light wood.
 

What catches my eye, though, is the big, deep tub that has a step up in order to get into it. There are two faucets to fill it up. The idea of a warm bath is very inviting.
 

He pulls back, clicking off the light, and we proceed further into the apartment. It opens up to the right into the kitchen, which is bigger than my entire apartment. It's been done in beautiful dark countertops and cabinets, not quite black, that make the silver appliances stand out. A breakfast bar that separates the hall from the kitchen has three bar-height chairs whose color matches the cabinets.
 

He moves on, opening a door directly across from the kitchen. "Here's the second bedroom."
 

I peek inside: deep blue carpet; a white dresser and some matching bedside tables; light blue walls; and pictures of beaches, beach houses and even one of a pretty lighthouse.
 

"This room can be used for anything you want. Add a bed...or a crib." I can't begin to imagine what the softness in his voice on the last word means, but it's comforting.
 

I pull back from the door. "It looks lovely."
 

He smiles in return and closes the door again. He leads me into the living room and I'm surprised by how comfortable the space looks. There is an oversized L-shaped couch with large pillows and deep seats, the kind you just want to curl up on all day. On the wall in front of the couch is a large TV, probably the largest I've ever seen. Below that is an entertainment center that houses two sleek black boxes that are probably for the cable and maybe a DVD player.
 

The coffee table between the couch and the TV is made of wood similar to that of the floor, and underneath the table is a pretty, deep purple rug that stands out against the light furniture.

On the other side of the couch, the curtains pulled back, is a large sliding glass door leading out to a patio, and beyond that, a view that has captured my attention. The balcony overlooks the river down below, and I can see a barge making its trek upriver. Even with the trees nearly bare from the cold, the view is still breathtaking.
 

I sense Mikah's eyes on me, but I don't pay him much attention as I walk around the couch, wanting to have a better look at the view.

The door slides open easily, and a rush of air sweeps into the apartment – not overly powerful, but strong enough to cause my body to shiver. I step out onto the balcony and just stand there, dazed by the beauty below.

After a few moments, I feel my heart skip a beat and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, then Mikah's hand on the small of my back.
 

"It's beautiful out here," I say, not wanting to pull my eyes away from the scene to look at him.
 

"This apartment has the best view. Come, I've got something else to show you."
 

I scowl at him. My heart pounds in my chest for reasons I don't quite understand, but I let him lead me back inside, his hand still resting on my lower back.

He reaches around and closes the door behind us. "Over here," he says, pointing toward a door on the wall opposite the TV I take a tentative step in that direction, unsure of why I'm hesitant now.

He reaches for the handle and pushes the door open.

FIVE

Beyond the door, the lights are on, low and warm. The room is decorated in purples: a purple comforter on the king-size bed, pillows in dark purples and lavenders, pale purple walls emitting the faint scent of new paint. Sitting in the middle of the pillows is a small bunch of what look like purple lilacs.
 

There are only three things in the room that aren’t purple: two lamps and the carpet. On either side of the bed, two chrome lamps with cream-colored shades help to give the room its warm ambiance. The carpet is a light, not-quite-white shag that looks very plush.

I want to feel it between my toes. I kick off my skimpy ballet flats, sensing Mikah's delight as I step over the threshold and onto the carpet.
 

Realization dawns. “This room, this apartment...it’s mine?” I ask quietly.
 

"Technically, I own it. However, it is yours for as long as you like."

Tears pool in my eyes as I take in what he's done. He knows that being on my own is important, but then he also knows that my living conditions were not great for me. Shame and gratitude wash over me in waves as I realize that Dr. Alston was right: no strings attached. If he wanted something in return, then I'd be in his apartment, but his giving me my own place proves even further that he really is only out to help me.
 

I feel him come up behind me. I turn quickly in his direction, throwing my arms around his waist.
 

"Whoa," he says, but I can hear his smile. "What's this for?"
 

I pull back slightly, unsure of what's come over me and afraid that I've overstepped some line, but his arms wrap around me, holding me to him, and I can no longer stop the silent tears from streaming down my cheeks.
 

"Thank you," I whisper.
 

His hand comes up to the back of my head. Gently, he strokes my hair, down my back, and for the first time, I feel a strong sense of comfort wash through me. I melt into his embrace.
 

The gravity of the last few days weighs heavily on my shoulders and my knees give out.

Mikah is quick to catch me as I let go. He reaches down and lifts me. I don't protest; the fight in me is gone. "Shhh, sweetheart, don't cry," he whispers, and I want to scream, to shout, to sob, to just break down. He reaches down for something I can't see, shifts slightly, and then he’s pulling back the covers on the bed. He lays me down gently. I curl up into a ball, my back to him, and he slowly pulls the covers up to my chin.

He kisses the top of my head, then pulls back. I hear his jeans shift as he steps away, and his feet on the carpet, getting further away from me.
 

"Don't," I say through tears. "Don't leave."
 

I hear his sharp intake of breath. Then the door clicks closed. But the knob rattles as his hand comes away and he's walking toward me again.
 

I reach behind me and pull the covers back. He hesitates, and I turn my head to look at him. Worry and sadness mar his beautiful features. He's confused. I'm confused. I don't understand what is causing this need to have him close to me.
 

"Please," I say quietly, and his features thaw. Reaching down, he pulls the covers back a little further then climbs in, jeans and all. He turns so that he is closer to me, like last night. I roll back onto my side and his arm wraps around me. His other hand slides in under the soft feather pillow. He holds me close.

I tried to be strong. I tried to be everything I thought I needed to be for myself, and all that did was nearly get me killed. Again. Mikah was there to rescue me and nothing I can ever do in life will repay him for that. His generosity knows no bounds.
 

As he snuggles deeper into the bed, I realize that something is changing between us.

SIX

Walking. I'm still walking down the white hallway, though the opening seems to finally be getting closer. I'm suddenly reminded of what happened the last time, of the dark cave, the heat and screaming.

"Do not fear, you're safe."
 

Zirah?

"Yes?"
 

I don't understand.
 

"What don't you understand?"

Well, I'm here, in this hallway, walking toward something. Mikah, I believe.
 

"Yes, it is him. He’s waiting for you."
 

But am I in the future?
 

"No, you are in the present day."

But how?

"You are in Elysium. You are in the land of your true self."

My hand slides along the baby bump - which is much larger than when I’m awake at home – letting the gesture silently ask my question of Zirah.
 

"It is because when you are in Elysium you are your true self. When you are on earth, you and your body conform to normal standards so you don't alert anyone to the existence of the supernatural.”

I'm confused by the fact that this doesn’t all seem stranger to me. It all seems so natural, like second nature.

"That’s because you’ve been here before, while you slept,” Zirah says, answering a question I haven’t asked. “When you were attacked, you were essentially dead, and that brought you into Elysium. While you were here, you learned of your fate." Her voice is reassuring.
 

Why don't I remember?

"You were not meant to remember. But it is why this all comes so easily to you. Mikah was primed by his mother - he was told of his legend in his younger years. You, Princess, were not." She pauses as if pondering something. "You were not meant to come to Elysium a few days ago."

Realization stumbles its way into my mind.
I died? He - Riley - he killed me?

"Yes, but Mikah found you in time. He accelerated your healing and brought you back to Earth, which is where you are supposed to be. Your time has not come."

I mentally shake my head, trying to process all of this information.
 

"Dreams are a form of Elysium, Princess."

Princess?
 

"Yes, you are a princess of Elysium, and Mikah is your protector, your guardian."

I let that thought sink in deep. Mikah’s my guardian. I was right: He really was only trying to help, to protect me.
 

I stop walking.
So my feelings for him aren't real?
 

"Your feelings for your guardian are real, Vivienne. Never doubt them."

My heart leaps and I quicken my pace, anxious to be closer to him.
 

Finally he comes into full view. I watch him standing there, dumbfounded by what's happening to him. His wings are spread: full and beautiful in all their glory, white and perfect. My heart melts. Desire grows. I feel like a magnet being pulled toward something to attach to. Something to cling to.
 

He's looking at his arm now. The black tattoo that covers half of his body is detailed and beautiful. He is shirtless; my gaze lingers on his deeply defined biceps and his abs, which are on glorious display. His hips arc into a beautiful V that disappears into the waistline of his pants.
 

His skin is darker, seeming even more tan against the stark white of the room. I watch as he brings his hand up over his shoulder and takes hold of his wing. Instantly his eyes roll upwards, showing the whites, and his knees give way.
 

I giggle at his reaction and his head snaps up to look straight at me. I point to the mirror behind him. He cocks his head at me, so I point again, more urgently.
 

He turns slowly toward the mirror. I can see him squint and close his eyes. He takes a few steps in its direction and, after a beat, he slowly opens his eyes.
 

His eyes are a beautiful blue, like the ocean, warm with excitement. His spreads his arms wide; his wings are longer than his arm span.
 

I approach him quietly from behind. He stumbles slightly.
 

"Easy there, angel. You're alright."
 

He falters again but recovers quickly.
 

"What is happening to me?" His voice is strained, concerned, but there's a hint of wonder.
 

I watch as he slowly starts to move and flex his shoulders. His back is equally as toned as his front, and there is something extremely sexy about his wings. I giggle at how awkward he looks testing them for the first time, but his face lights up. He starts to turn toward me.
 

"No, no. Keep facing the mirror. Keep practicing," I say to distract him and watch as his expression changes to disappointment, but he continues to practice as I quietly sneak closer to him.
 

"Will I be able to fly?" I hear him ask as he watches the motions of his wings.
 

"Yes, in time." My answer surprises me – I didn’t realize I knew that. Then I remember what Zirah told me. I try again in vain to recall being here before.
 

I'm within an arm’s length of him. I reach out, tentatively, and lightly brush my fingertips along the feathers of his wings.

He moans – a sound born not of pain but of pleasure - and crumples to the floor. I touch him again, watching his eyes roll back and then close.
 

I smile at the idea that this is something he enjoys. I do it again and he moans once more.
 

I pull back slightly from him and begin to make my way around his now-collapsed wings.

"Keep your eyes closed," I breathe.