Yield (12 page)

My phone fell to the floor making a thud.  I moved to pick it up and a set of hands grabbed both of mine.  Raising my head up from where I was leaning over my knees, his mouth bumped my cheek. 

“Come here,” he breathed in my ear with a half laugh/half smile.

He
’d never been...like this.

I blinked a couple of times. 

“I thought we ahhh....ah...couldn’t.”

“
Still can’t.” He was kissing my ear.

“
Then...” ohhh....

Warm breath tangled with my hair and tickled the spot under my ear.  My shirt folded over, he kissed the edge of my shoulder. 

A little more and I think maybe I would be in a state of blissful heat.  Ames was that capable of incapacitating me. I felt tiny pricks of red hot blazes forming on my neckline.

I think he said my name.

“Emma.”  It was raspy.

I opened my eyes.  His green emeralds were dark with desire and a smirk plastered across his lips.

“Emeralds.  Your eyes look like real ones.”  He ignored my obvious attempt to cool off.  “I like emeralds.”  I tried to focus and shove him off but he beat me to it.  “What are you doing, Ames?” I blinked about fifty times.
              “I believe you females call it ‘getting your attention’.  I am not the ignoring type.”

He was freaking unbelievable.  I blew my now sticky hair out of my face and moved to pull it behind my ears, but his fingers reached it first.  I reached for my phone and started to stand. 

“Don’t be mad,” he pouted his lip purposefully in his defense.

“Ames.  You better not get me all hot and bothered again like that unless you intend to make good on it.   Next time...next time I won
’t let you stop.”

I don’
t know the bold, breathy sounding girl talking.  I’ve never heard her talk like that.  Ever!

He hadn
’t met this version of me either by the look on his face.  I’ve stunned him.

Just like that, he was kissing me.  Hard.  Devouring.  Animalistic.

He pulled me down on the sofa and started his hands up and down the length of me like he couldn’t decide where to land.  Wanting him as close as I could get him to be lost in his touches and his kisses, I ran my fingers through his hair and held on. 

His mouth was warm, minty like his TicTacs of late. 

Cold.  Everything went cold and the warmth was gone.  Standing up away from the sofa was a panting, very hot man who I fully wanted laying back across the top of me. 

“Are you trying to kill me
, Ames Cahn?”  I was breathy and totally incoherent as he moaned in disappointment.

“I need to cool off.”  He paced before me sounding angry with my question.  “If I lose you, I
’m as good as dead.  And I can’t be the one...not till its right.”

My heart died a little. 

“I can’t do that again, Emma.  It hurts to bad to stop.”  His hands ran through his hair. 

He left.

I texted Wicker that I was coming to take over his post.  I needed the air.

I ignored all the rules with her, yet I followed more rules for the first time in a really long time just to be with her.  And now I may not have her.

The ground was covered in dew covering my boots with grass and pollen.  I stuffed both hands in my pockets to keep from pulling out my friggin
’ hair.

I hated like anything that I
’d all but attacked Emma just now.  I was wrapped up in my own selfish need to think about how it would affect her.  She needed to focus on how much her life has changed and what might be coming.  She needed to spend time in her realm and hopefully find answers that I worried would never be found.  They hadn’t yet.

My phone buzzed.

             
Joshlin here.

My mind cleared and filled with something else altogether.

I may be a mix of poison and something wicked, but I am also the arrow that never misses its target.  Right now, if someone hurts me or even worse, attempts to hurt those that I genuinely care about, it will take more than a psyche ward doctor to subdue it.
 

             
Joshlin is a slow disease that I am fast deciding I might just need to create a cure for.  And it wouldn’t be a nice recovery.

Ames didn
’t come back.  I couldn’t believe he seduced me like an Avon romance novel and left me hanging high and dry.  What guy didn’t want to make out?

Hurts to bad to stop?  What, he can
’t...ohhh.  The dense blonde moment passed and I had a small inkling as to how Ames really felt about me.  It could be as simple as physical pain, but it was more than that by the look in his eyes.  Maybe he didn’t want to go too far because he felt like he was taking advantage of me.  Still, something else was framed in his words.

I settled down under the covers, without the zillion pillows, and let my stupid imagination go farther than it should have.  Is that what his mind does?

And I wanted to be mad, but knew it would just fade to a cloud of dust at the sight of him again.  I’d have all this planned out discussion ready to go and BAM!  It all flew out the window when he smiles. 

What is it with cute guys, their deadly smiles, and turning a girl stupid in the face of proving a point?  Pointless!

I gave up reasoning anything out concerning Ames Cahn and his ability to make me senseless to read the letter I surreptitiously copied when Caydon went to get my tea.  I secretly smiled at Caydon’s false delusion of an all bad boy kind of man he presents to others.  Well, probably not to Lily.

Sadly, my mind jumped again.  I felt as sorry for the two of them more so than for Ames and me.  Had they been together at all without being secret?  Ames knew.  Which was odd in itself.

I ignored my wandering mutterings of the mind and read the chicken scratch letter to my mom written in all of less than a minute tops not knowing when Caydon would return.  The part I was originally hung up on was the arranged marriage part.

An arranged marriage is her only out unless you leave it to fate to end her life sooner than her time should be. 

My own ancestors believe they all died young because of who they chose to marry.    Well, some survived.  That wasn’t even the part that freaked me out the most.  It was that so many of us had all fallen in love with a goblin realm king over time in the first place.   There was some uncanny draw for a witch, something I wasn’t ready to admit yet, and the goblin realm kings.  I was just thankful to hear they were all very unrelated.  I made for sure too.  Before I left Caydon, he let me read through every book and letter in the room and said there were more in their library room.  It turns out, there are only a few actual hereditary born sons that have been king.   The majority have been less magically inclined step-ins because they all died untimely deaths.  I wasn’t sure what was worse—possible tenth generational genes or knowing Ames might die soon?

             
Either way, the closest relatives across the ages were father and son rulers.  The son’s all seem to be the ones to kick the bucket.  Luck or part of the deal?

             
That’s where I was stuck.  Ames was the son and his father was dead.  Not abandoning the Ames side of the equation in this sad tale that has yet to unfold, I tossed my thought back to the other part of the letter that caught my curiosity.

             
The painting.  Could it be the same one in the cave or was it a replica or even a second painting?  Being far from an art expert, I wouldn’t know the difference, but it still made me twist some ideas around that didn’t make a lick of sense.

             
I stared at the words.

              It will keep its secrets
safe
.

             
It was the only word underlined in any of the book or letters.  One doesn’t make that distinction unless it warrants extra attention.  I suddenly wondered if my mother had visited my grandmother in between the letters.  It was hard to be sure, but studying them closer, her tone had changed even more than before.

             
I backed up and reread the words before the signature word.

Have a treaty formed as you so said had to be done.  Make sure it is safe.

The painting you’ve treasured me with will forever be the light of my life since I cannot hold you close by hand. 

Make sure it is safe...it will keep its secrets safe. 

“That’s it!” I shouted into the air slamming my hands down either side of my stretched out legs.  “IT’s the word it.  It!  It!  It!”

The treaty is hidden in the one place where only I would find it other than the eyes of the dead.  I just know I
’m right.  My dear ole’ grandma made sure to make my mother hide it so either I could find it or she could show me where it was.   Since she hasn’t shown up yet, I had to lean on the part where I would be reading this and figure it out. Of course, she couldn’t have known that Ames would lead me to it, but I’m guessing she would not make that assumption since she foretold I would not be allowed to marry him.  My curiosity peaked with the notions of what magical gifts my grandmother might have.  Hmm!

I promised her a visit on Wednesday to officially meet her grandmother as her granddaughter.  Emma told me stories of how this lady helped the younger students of the school with the weakest subjects.  This lady stuck up for the bullied when people like the Rick guy, her ex who ridiculed and tortured freshmen, were around to humiliate them.  I couldn’t fully connect to the hurtful way some of the humans called practical jokes, but I wasn’t innocent of them myself.  Growing up in the goblin realm included books and mathematics, but it didn’t include cheese whiz and bimbo cheerleaders acting like the world revolved around them.  And practical jokes were never meant to be harmful, just what they are, jokes.  That just wasn’t the case concerning some of the human guys I’d seen over the years.

Well, there was one exception.  Joshlin.  The standard he presented was close to these childish and painful ways of life, but he was the head of the realm and no one could dispute him according to the laws we
’ve abided by for so long.

Seems times are changing for the better.  Seems Emma is in a better place if you compare it to the human world.  Except it may not be with me.

It wasn’t far to Mrs. Ryman’s home for which upset Emma a great deal.   She was that close to her own grandmother for so long and never allowed to see her or know her.  Not liking her biting that bottom lip for reasons other than wanting me to kiss her, I jumped right in to make it more comfortable.

I swung a right and stopped by the Starbucks that was a block from the subdivision.  Cities were so easily predictable with their high tech needs and fast paced living.  I liked being away from Joshlin for all those years, but I spent most of my time holed up in the cabin with either Trigger or Wicker.  Girls were easy at clubs and stuff when I had jobs to do for Joshlin.  It was just numbing enough to escape my life.  And then she came along.

Now, I might lose her. 

I gripped the wheel hiding the pain of hurrying this whole week and yet wishing I owned the power to stop time.  It was just the ache tossed with not wanting to miss a moment with her.

“You okay there,” her voice echoed over my thoughts.

We circled around the drive thru.  I told her yes and called out the order knowing well before she could tell me she could feel my fear and whatever else I was giving away.  Maybe that power
could
go away too. Or worse, not at all.

In front of the house, she pulled the last of the whipped cream topping through her straw and collectively marked off every section
of the roof and symmetry like checkmarks with her eyes including the different parts of the house and landscape surrounding it. 

“You ready?” I asked her holding the keys in wait.  She wasn
’t moving.  I heard a song once about waiting on women.  It was every bit true.  They knew good and well we’d wait forever if not just to see them smile because of something we caused them to smile about.

“No,” she answered sarcastically. “
But I am going in anyway.  I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.”

That was the nerves talking, but as feisty as ever.  I wondered if her grandmother was anything like her. 

I had hoped making this pit stop in the week would prove helpful in our research.  On one hand I felt it was a waste of time and could be done after I lost her on Friday, but the same selfishness inside of me wanted to have this moment with her.  A memory she’d cherish even if she was agitated about the circumstances.

The second we entered the living room, the week
’s lengthy research paid off.  Or rather, my long ago discoveries in a pile of rubble thought to be rocks and dirt.

The silver haired, friendly face of Mrs. Carla Ryman greeted Emma and then me with a soft hug.  Guessing the tiger attitude in the car had left her thought processing, Emma shied away from her grandmother
’s arm stretched into hers as she led us to the room with a sofa and chairs. 

At the first step into the room, both Emma and I halted to a stop stuck in the same step.

Mrs. Ryman didn’t waste time.

“You are familiar with the painting I see.”

Um, yeah.