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Forest held her head in her hands, her embarrassment refusing to go away. Syrus lay sleeping next to her. She couldn't believe that she had jumped on him and burned his neck. She also had the awful feeling of exposure, knowing that she had been dreaming about Leith and maybe she had mumbled something in her sleep. She hoped desperately if Syrus heard anything it was unintelligible.
Forest groaned. She was suffering from such a backward emotion she felt stupid once she recognized it. She didn’t want Syrus to know about Leith for many reasons, but mostly because it felt like she was cheating. The stupid part was that she felt she was cheating on Syrus with Leith instead of cheating on Leith with Syrus. Preoccupied by her thoughts and feelings, Forest didn’t sense the presence looming in the distance.
She gasped as Syrus sat upright like someone had stabbed him with a cattle prod.
“What is it?”
“Stay here,” he ordered and bolted off into the darkness before she could say another word.
Being invisible didn’t hide Kitch from Syrus. Kitch smelled the vampire, but he was more than a little taken aback to see him charging at him through the dark. Syrus skidded to a halt in front of Kitch, both his swords drawn.
“I know exactly where you are, elf,” Syrus said in a deadly tone. “If I kill you while you’re invisible, do you think anyone will ever find you?”
Kitch took a step back, wanting to put more distance between him and this deranged vamp. “Whoa! Let’s calm down! I’m just on patrol. It’s my job to intercept any travelers in this area and question them. Please lower your weapons. In case you didn’t know, our peoples are allied.”
Kitch exhaled as Syrus lowered his swords to his sides. He surveyed him carefully. He was certainly dressed strangely and the crop of his hair would suggest that he was a servant, or even a slave. He emanated a powerful aura that caused Kitch’s suspicion to percolate, but he knew that just because someone might have no social standing didn’t mean they lacked in strength of spirit. Kitch judged that Syrus was of no importance and should be allowed to go on his way. But he was bored and decided to question him thoroughly. “All right.” Kitch tried his best to sound authoritative. “What’s your story? Why are you traveling through this area with two companions?”
Syrus crumpled his brow. “I have only one companion.”
“I’m in no mood to play. I can smell them. You left an elf and a shifter behind.”
Syrus smiled at him. “No. There’s nothing wrong with your nose, but what you are smelling is a Halfling. Half elf, half shifter.”
“Really?” Kitch was angry with himself for sounding so juvenile and eager. He tried to pull his voice back to stern. “Okay. Why are the two of you out here and where are you going?”
“Ahh…” This was the moment that they needed a cover story for, and they didn’t have one. Forest had talked about coming up with one, but that was all that had been said on the subject. Syrus decided he would go with whatever popped into his head. “Well, we are running away. Our families will never accept us and starting over in a new place is the only way we can be happy.”
“What are you talking about?” Kitch ordered.
“She’s my life mate.”
“Oh…yes, I see how that would be a problem.”
Forest, who was listening to their conversation, felt like she was now the one who was stuck with the cattle prod. Did he know, or was that the only lie he could think of on the spot? Either answer made her stomach twist.
“So were you going to try to settle in Kyhael?” Kitch asked.
“No. We really don’t know where we’ll end up. We just want to avoid the fighting.”
“You ought to take refuge in Kyhael. All elves have citizenship. You said your life mate is half elf?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Syrus said.
“Call to her. I want to see her… I mean meet her.”
Forest was about to move out from her sheltered spot so the invisible elf could eye her when Syrus’ voice took on a diamond hard edge, freezing her in her tracks.
“You want to see her, eh? Goggle the freak, is it? Make her feel bad about herself and who she is? You’ve never seen a Halfling before I bet, and now you just have to get a good look. Well, you and your insensitive ignorance can go climb up a slimy tube.”
He was so forceful, Kitch took another step back. “All right, all right. I’m sorry. I’m curious, I admit it. And you’re protective of your mate, I get it. My apologies. It must be very hard for you to deal with.”
“You have no idea how hard it is to be the mate of the most beautiful creature that ever lived. I constantly have to fight others who want her for themselves. You’d probably be no different than the rest of them.”
Kitch was at a loss for words. This vampire was clearly unstable. He didn’t like emotionality. He would be within his rights to kill him, but he disliked fighting emotional people and this jealous, angry, lovesick vampire on the run was a knot better left untied. Kitch began moving away. “May you fare well in your travels,” Kitch said, not taking his eyes off the vampire.
Syrus stood still until the elf had gone a good distance. He sheathed his swords and made his way back to Forest. The elf was still looming in the distance, watching from afar. Syrus knew his performance was not yet over, and he could trust Forest to mess everything up by sniping at him or threatening to hack him to pieces.
He could feel the tension radiating off her body as he approached her. Before she could do or say anything, Syrus grabbed her, hauling her up onto her toes, and planted a thorough kiss on her mouth. She was clearly shocked for a second before she caught on and relaxed against him. Then she seemed to explode.
Forest climbed Syrus like a tree and attempted to eat him alive. He almost toppled under the weight of her passion. All of his thoughts of putting on a little show for the elf were now nonexistent. There were no thoughts in his head, only a desperate feeling that begged to be realized and validated. He clung to her with the full strength of his life force, attempting to absorb her. She pulled him along in the smoldering darkness, consuming him from within. Everything inside him rolled and purred luxuriantly… then she yanked away and jumped down. She may as well have doused him with cold water as she had days before when he’d asked to drink from her.
Syrus stood stone still, waiting for his senses to stop spinning, while she efficiently packed everything up. She thrust his backpack into his chest, and he shrugged it on grudgingly. No one had ever made him feel the way Forest did. He wanted her so much the desire was turning him into an idiot. He wanted to kick things and pitch a fit like a toddler who was denied what he wanted.
“Let’s go,” she said and began walking.
Syrus followed a stride behind her with a nagging desire to kick her in the butt. He waited to speak until the elf was too far away to be sensed.
“What was that?” he demanded.
“You kissed me for the elf’s benefit, right?” she asked flippantly.
“I was only trying to lend a little credibility to the lie.”
“And I was trying to help. I don’t know, do you think I was convincing?” she asked with mock innocence.
“Oh, I’m sure he bought it.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yes, dammit.”
“That was a really bad thing to happen though,” Forest said seriously. “I hope that elf doesn’t run his mouth when he reports back in.”
“You’re afraid your father will catch word that a half elf was traveling through the area?”
“Yes. Exactly that.”
“Do you plan to live your whole life without ever searching for him?” Syrus asked.
Forest thought about his question for a while. “I really don’t know.”
All that morning, Forest tried to remind herself to enjoy this time with Syrus. If they were successful, they would reach the boundary of the Wolf’s Wood that evening. The Wood was vast, and she had no idea how long it w
ould take them to locate the wizard once they were inside. She also knew that they would have to fight for survival there. If they weren’t killed or captured, she had less than a week left with Syrus. She had to make the most of it; it would be over all too soon.
The “pretend” kiss that morning had all but wrecked Forest. She was still able to resist, but the internal battle of instinct vs. intellect was growing desperate. Her intellect drew straight and harsh boundary lines, while instinct crept behind, blurring them.