Watch Over You (8 page)

He bent forward and slipped his arm around her waist. “Let me help you upstairs.” He had to rest one hand on the banister for leverage to pull them both up. She tried to help him by  hooking her arms around his neck as they stood, but when she was on her feet, she didn’t let go - and neither did he. She pressed closer against him. The warmth of his fever seeped into her. He was burning hot. He let go of the banister and put that arm around her too. As if he could sense that she just needed to cry, he cupped the back of her head and gently brought it towards him. She buried her face in his shoulder and let the tears fall, great gulping sobs wracking her body as she did. She cried until her head hurt and there were no more tears left. She didn’t lift her head when she was done. His shoulder was warm and firm, and his scent was intoxicating. It felt right standing in the comfort of his arms. She got the overwhelming urge to turn her head and slide her lips to the side of his neck.

Without thinking, she slipped her hand up to his neck, pulling him to her. She didn’t know what she was doing, nor did she care. All she knew was that in that moment, she wanted to feel his skin against her mouth. She wanted to taste him. She didn’t let herself think about it. If she did, it would scare her. It would be like betraying Eric in some way; but then she needed this too. She hadn’t felt a connection with someone in so long. When she pulled him closer and rested her mouth against his neck, he tensed. She heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t stop her. If anything, she could have sworn that his grip on her tightened. She kissed his neck, pressing her lips tight against his skin. She could taste the clean, male sweat; it made her want to kiss him more. She kissed along the line of his jaw as her fingers entwined in his hair. He turned his head willingly and caught her mouth with his. She hadn’t expected it and somewhere in the middle, the control switched from her to him.

He moved them both around so that she was against the wall. Cupping her face with his hands, he deepened the kiss, forcing her to open to him. Any protest was lost. She simply melted into it. She could feel nothing else - nothing but him. The seductive, masculine smell of him overwhelmed her senses. The tears on her face had long dried. His kiss was hungry like that of a starved man. When his tongue touched hers and she opened to let him explore, he seemed to kiss her harder as if that was the permission he needed. His hands slid from her face, down her arms and to her waist, letting them slip around her and pulling her even closer. It was like he was trying to pull her in until they could meld together. She felt every part of him against her. His chest against her breasts. His stomach against hers. That part of him that was all male against her. He pressed one thigh between her legs so that she had to straddle it.

Her head back fell back as he started to nuzzle her neck. Her eyes drifted shut, totally lost in the moment. “Eric,” she breathed.

Devan’s head snapped back, his entire body stiffening. Tara’s eyes shot open when she realised what she had just done. She knew the pained expression on his face would be etched into her memory forever. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It was…”

He stepped away from her without saying a word, leaving her bereft and cold without his arms around her. His blue eyes swam with tears and hurt - and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She reached up and laced her hands around the back of his head, pulling him back to her., But when she tried to kiss him again and her mouth touched his, it was rigid and stony.

“I’m sorry. It was because I was crying.”

He let go of her completely then, and she could only watch as he lowered his head and turned away from her. He walked out of the house, the sound of the door closing behind him a deafening bang in Tara’s ears.

Chapter Nine

Devan almost fell and tumbled down the steps as he vacated the house. He stumbled out into the evening, rain instantly soaking him. It came down hard and fast. The cold seeped through his shirt; he had no coat on.  His fever spiked. The rain and the cold just seemed to up the thermometer on it, spreading goosebumps along his skin. Every part of him was shaking - but not just from the cold. The kiss played on his mind, making it impossible to think straight. Thoughts and feelings crashed through him with a vengeance, and he scrabbled desperately to block them out. He clutched at his head and roared into the cold night sky. He tried to run, but his legs gave way. The weight of what he had done pressed down upon him and he stumbled to the ground. He didn’t stop, though. He had to get away from the house, get away from himself; but mostly, away from Tara and what he might do. He crawled through the mud, dragging his knees as he went. Each move was a laborious effort and it tore another sob from his throat. He fought for control, but he could not calm the beating in his chest or the thumping behind his temples. They gripped his body with raw desperation.

He made it as far as the end of the road before he collapsed and gave into the thickness of his emotions. An invisible force pressed down on him and stopped him from leaving. He lay facedown in the dirt and unwittingly let what he had just done play out in his mind. Trying to dispel the image, he pushed himself up onto his knees, titling his head back to stare up at the evening sky. Sobs wracked his body as the sense of despondency and desperation washed through him in unremitting waves.

He stayed on his knees for a long time and let the rain splash down onto his face. He shouldn’t have kissed her - he knew that - but he couldn’t help it. He had been powerless to stop it. She had started it, but he hadn’t pulled away, and he should have. He had taken over and if she hadn’t said the name, he might not have stopped. He trembled harder; knowing what would have happened if he had truly lost control. He could still feel the softness of her lips against his, taste the saltiness of her tears. He could feel her in his arms, like an echo. They throbbed with the memory of her, already consumed with an emptiness now that he was no longer holding her.

. His hand rested on his knees, and it was bleeding again, heavily this time. Blood soaked through most of the bandage and ran from the palm of his hand onto the ground. He slipped the bandage off and looked at the bird. It was a swallow - one that bled tears from its heart and eyes. He scrunched up the tattered cloth and squeezed the rain and blood from it, using it then to try to wipe away the blood. “I get the message,” he shouted to no one, but he got an answer. Every line and every little detail on the swallow began to glow and burn. The same agony he had experienced when he had acquired the marking seeped into his skin and he pressed his palms together hoping to dull the pain.

“Please, no.”

The pain throbbed in time with his already racing pulse. It throbbed so much that he was sure if he could open his hand to look at the swallow, it would be bulging
in rhythm to his heartbeat. He had to go back to her. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t ready. “Please,” he said. “I can't yet. Not yet. I’m not ready. Please give me time.” As if the swallow was splaying its wings in his palm, more pain spread out under his flesh. He opened his hand hoping that maybe it would detach itself and fly away, but it didn’t.  The pain unfurled and made the muscles in his arm contract. He doubled over, flattening his other palm on the ground to keep himself up. He retched and heaved, but there was nothing left for him to bring up. His stomach clenched painfully, the excruciating cramping making it difficult to breathe. He lowered his face to the ground again, slumped over and rolled onto his side, clutching his stomach with his aching hand.

He stayed there until the pain seemed to subside; either that or he was just habituating to it. “I still have time,” he whimpered. He lay on the ground, but his eyes were open. The skies had grown darker, the rain heavier. He glimpsed the fields just out of the corner of his eye. They were protected by hedgerows and wire fences, but he could see the shadows moving just
beyond. He knew they were there and that they were coming. They had promised they wouldn’t take her. His mind drifted back to when she touched the swallow on his hand and the way she was thrown back, then she was gone. “I have two days. Please.” He tried to roll over so that he could get up. “I’ll go back,” he pleaded with invisible people; talked to no one and got nothing in return.

“Not yet.” The thought of losing her terrified him. No more Tara. Gone forever. He had already waited this long. They’d taken him away right after the funeral, and the only thing that had kept him sane was his daily pleading and hope that they would release him. And they had. He had wanted this. He had asked for this, but he was losing his nerve. He knew what he had to do. He breathed in deeply and forced himself back to his knees. He could do this. He
would
do this. Pain sliced through him, through the scar on his chest. He couldn’t help but cry out from it. It seared his flesh like fire. If this is what it took, he would gladly suffer through it for her. He knew he was running out of time and that they were punishing him for what he had done. If she got lost forever in the shadows, he’d never forgive himself. He swore that if that ever happened, he would not rest until he found her again. He didn’t care how long it would take.

If only she had seen him at the funeral. If only he hadn’t been such a coward and just stood there watching. He should have gone to her then, but he knew she wouldn’t have been ready to accept the truth yet. She wouldn’t have wanted to know that about her husband - but she had to now. Time had run out and they were coming for her.

“I’ll do it. I promise,” he begged. “Please, stop. Please let me.”

He used his desperation to push himself forwards. Pain ravaged his body and he cried from it as he crawled. The blood from his hand mingled with the dirt and rain, but still he dragged himself along the street. No other lights were on. No one was around, every house in darkness. The hedges that ran along the side moved with him. His knees dragged along the ground, fresh pain shooting through him as the paved
ground grazed his flesh. His wet hair whipped down into his face and stung his eyes.

If ever he had crawled through hell, this was the time. He thought being away from Tara had been hard. When they wouldn’t let him out to see her and he had pleaded, he thought that was bad. But this…this held the promise that they would take her away forever, and she would never know the truth. It was vital she know, though. Even if it was the last thing he did, he was going to tell her. She had to know the truth about Eric.

He thought he wouldn’t get her back when she had gone into the shadows. Was that a threat? Were they trying to show him that they would take her away if he failed? He remembered pleading with them.
Release me and I will make it right
. He would get through to her. Of all the people, he was the one who had to do it. They just had to let him out. That’s what he had told them.

He crawled back to the house, trying to stand a couple of times but failing. He got part way up, wobbled and then back down he went. He had no energy left and he was fading fast. It seemed longer to go back and he
cursed the skies every time pain slashed through his body and nestled under his skin. Only when he was close enough did it really begin to ebb.

The house, like all the others on the street, was in darkness too. Had they been off before? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t really matter. He could see in the dark anyway. He didn’t need light.

He glanced behind him. He could feel them watching, like some dark presence following him around. They were like a pack of hungry dogs, waiting for just one thing to go wrong so they could pounce. They had already done it once today. It was six hours of hell and screaming her name before he had found her in the darkness. He hadn’t experienced fear like that in a long time. She was his and they couldn’t take her away. He wouldn’t let them. He wouldn’t fall for his desire so easily either. It was a moment’s lapse of his mind - something he couldn’t help. His craving had taken over and he had become weak. Not again. He knew he couldn’t do it; not again. Not if she had to learn the truth. Then she would be his.

He turned away from them. “I can do this. I promise.” He was at the foot of the steps. There were only two, but it might as well have been three hundred. He dragged himself up and sat, breathless, on the top step. All he had to do was knock, but everything in his mind rebelled. He must have hurt her feelings when he had run off. What if she told him to get lost? Then that would mean he had ruined everything.

He pushed himself to his feet, using the door frame as support. His finger hovered over the doorbell at first, but then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and he knew they were going to come if they got chance. She had to know the truth. It was the only way to save her. He knew that, but doing it was the worst part.

When he had begged them to release him, he had imagined this would be easy. Just walk up to her and say it, make her understand. In reality, that very first time he had seen her, his mind had crashed in on itself and left him with nothing but fear. Then he had failed to get her to see him, and they had snatched him away.

He pressed the bell, heard it ring, but there was no echo from the sound. It sounded flat, the air seemingly dead. He pressed it again. It was as if everything had suddenly got darker and the night had fully come into its own. There were no stars. There was no moon. Devan looked out at the fields to the side of the house. Shadows moved across the horizon. A light went on in the house and startled him. He pressed the bell again. It rang out this time with life in the sound.