Forbidden Forest

  ****

  Forest’s head throbbed when she awoke, her eyes reluctant to open. Awkward didn’t even begin to describe the way she felt about facing Syrus. Now that she had rested, she was determined to regain some level of respect. She had to rebuild the walls he had toppled. She had to push him away again. Damn it, she’d even told him that she loved him. At least she’d used the word in the past tense.

  She could hear him moving around next to her and kept her eyes clamped shut before she reminded herself stupidly that she couldn’t fake him out by keeping her eyes closed. He probably knew she was awake before she did.

  He sat cross-legged on the ground, his face smooth and contemplative. He’d put on a clean T-shirt, but he still wore the same jeans as yesterday. There was a tear over his right knee, and the hems were dirty and beginning to fray.

  Forest felt overwhelmed with sorrow as she looked at him. Stealing her memories was unforgivable; just like a vampire to take whatever they wanted no matter what it cost others. She nestled down into the familiar feeling of hate. But hate in regards to Syrus was shallow. She stared at him. His short hair was a mess in a way humans thought fashionable; she wanted to comb it. She remembered when she’d cut it and he’d touched her face. If only he could really look at her without it bonding them together forever. When the wizard healed him, she wanted him to see her just once. But that was a desire that must always remain unfulfilled.

  Forest groaned as she sat up, rubbing her thumping temples. He said nothing. She waited, but he kept silent. Why did he have to be so composed when she felt like she’d just woken up with a hangover in a strange bed, hardly knowing what she’d done? Forest opened her mouth in a silent scream, which she directed at him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Your breathing was strange just now.”

  “So?”

  Syrus shrugged. There was a long uncomfortable silence. Forest began to busy herself with rolling up her sleeping bag and straightening up her stuff. Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t think she could eat anything. She wanted to get searching again for Maxcarion, and she was thankful that it was still necessary for them to keep their talking to a minimum.

  “All right, I want to move our camp to the Heart for tonight if we are unsuccessful locating the wizard today.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” he said vaguely.

  “Have you eaten? Are you ready to go?” Forest hated the nasty tone of her voice, but she didn’t think she could do anything about it.

  “I’m ready.”

  Forest strapped on her backpack and adjusted her shirt. She gave a quick second look around to make sure they were leaving nothing behind. Syrus put his pack on, and before she could give him orders, he walked slowly into her space and reached for her forearm. Forest’s eyes went wide, and she contemplated jerking out of his grip, but she waited to see what he was doing. His face was pained and it broke down her new defenses. She frantically grabbed at them to put them back up.

  “We need to get moving, Syrus,” she tried to keep her voice firm.

  “I want you to forgive me for what I did last night.”

  “What you want is irrelevant.”

  “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

  Forest’s heart trembled. Be cold, she told herself. She lifted his hand off her arm and took a step back. “Give me some space, Syrus. That’s what I want from you.”

  He sighed dejectedly and nodded. “All right.”

  Hours passed as they searched for Maxcarion. The day grew unseasonably hot, and Forest found it harder and harder to concentrate. Syrus followed her as she led them nowhere, to the middle of it, and back around the edges, over and over. With every new line of sweat that slid down her back she grew more and more frustrated.

  Syrus kept his distance as she had asked him to, but the space brought her no peace. He was a walking volcano of emotion, churning and brewing, and impossible for her to ignore.

  Her frustration level was at its breaking point but it was nothing next to Syrus’. He imagined that his mouth was a walled-over gate that could not be opened. There was a raging beast behind the composed exterior of his body that he must keep jailed. He had an idea he was sure would work but the words he desperately wanted to let loose had to wait for the proper time, if there was one. Waiting to speak to Forest, to present her with his proposition, was taking all of the force of his mage power. And so, they went in circles through the trees and inside themselves, searching and reaching for things just beyond grasping.

  When they stopped for lunch, Forest could tell Syrus was on the edge of losing it, though she was unsure as to what ‘it’ was, exactly. Forest felt like the taut string of an instrument, constantly being picked by a ragged fingernail. Fraying had begun, and she too would snap eventually.

  She kept her distance as they sat down to eat. He unscrewed one of his bottles, but he didn’t drink. His jaw clenched so tight, she could see his facial muscles tremble with the strain. How long had he been like that? What could he be fighting that hard not to say?

  “Syrus, what is wrong with you?” she demanded.

  Syrus’ teeth stayed locked together. He really had no idea how she would respond to what he had to say. He wondered if he could just swallow it. It was the worst timing imaginable. He needed to focus his mind on finding the wizard. He’d been telling himself that over and over since the idea popped into his head, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than Forest. Now that he knew the truth about her life and what she was forced to go through on a regular basis, and now that he was sure he could make things better for her, it made looking for the wizard seem like an annoying fly in the background.

  Indecision and pain twisted all over Syrus’ face. It was obvious to Forest that he was going through some internal battle, and the moment dragged.

  “Oh, for goodness sake! Just say it, Syrus, and get it over with!”

  Even in the face of her irritation and the pressure she’d just put on him, he mulled it over. He put his bottle back inside his backpack and stood up, moving closer to her.

  She watched him warily as he sat down again, cross-legged in front of her so that their knees touched. Whatever he was about to say, it was heavy and Forest held her breath waiting for the weight to fall on her.

  Syrus held both of his hands up in surrender before he uttered a word. When finally he did speak, his voice was quiet and collected, though obviously nervous underneath. “I have no idea the right way to say this. Please realize that I would never intentionally hurt you, and I speak out of genuine friendship.”

  Oh, crap. Forest took a deep breath. “All right.”

  “I can remove one of Leith’s marks from you. If you’d let me. I cannot, unfortunately, remove the slave mark. At least not yet. But I promise to find a way.”

  “How could you remove the lovers mark?” Forest asked.

  “I could replace it.”

  Forest let his words sink in, and she fought down the knee jerk reaction to knock his head clean off his shoulders. She took a slow calming breath, remembering that he said that he was speaking out of genuine friendship, and that she hadn’t acted as though she had any aversion to him as a lover last night under the waterfall. However, a one night fling was something worlds apart from the commitment of a mark. Everything was just backwards and wrong. There was no way she could or would take a lovers mark from Syrus, especially when it came out of pity.

  “Thank you, but no.”

  “But Forest, don’t you understand that…”

  “No!” she said forcefully. “Look, I appreciate your concern for me, and yes being tied to Leith is a terrible way to live, but I’m used to it. I’ll find my own way out, eventually.”

  He looked not only shocked but also hurt and disappointed. Why at this moment did she feel guilty for hurting his ego? She wanted to kick him.

  His cheeks looked a little red. “It wouldn’t have to be anything o
ther than an arrangement if you found being with me like that… objectionable.”

  “Oh? And what about you? Why would you give up the chance to be with someone else in a real relationship? You might find being with me objectionable. It wouldn’t work anyway. No one would allow it. You’re the prince, and I’m a disgusting Halfling, unworthy of the air I breathe. I don’t think you realize all that you would be giving up just to help me out. And for me, I’d just be trading one kind of slavery for another.”

  Syrus’ mouth fell open, but before he could protest, she pushed on. “I know that you are nothing like Leith, and that you would be good to me, but even though it's trading up, it’s still trading one kind of prison for another. Like I said, I appreciate it and all but…hey!”

  Syrus had heard enough. He stood up abruptly and grabbed Forest by the shoulders, lifting her to her feet. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he crushed her mouth with his. The fiery snake inside her uncoiled and snapped painfully. Her head spun, and she clung tightly around Syrus’ neck. His kiss didn’t push or demand, it just gave warmth and sweetness and sorrow.

  “Forget friendship. I only said that to soften you up. My offer is real, and it stands until you accept it. It’s not charity. I want you. I want your heart.”

  Forest buried her face in his chest and cried. “What good is my heart? It’s angry. It hates.”

  Syrus took a deep breath, holding her tightly against him. “All hearts are capable of hate, Forest. That doesn’t make them worthless. I understand your hate, now. Hell, I even condone it. But you don’t hate me.”

  Forest wailed. “Oh, I do! I most certainly do! I hate you more than anyone or anything else.”

  Syrus let go of her and stepped back, his face shocked.

  “Yes,” she said tears running down her cheeks. “I hate you more than Leith.”

  “How could you say that?” he asked in a deadly whisper.

  “Because, look at what you’ve done to me! You’ve weakened me! My hate for Leith made me stronger, but you make me weak. You don’t have to ask for my heart, black as it is, it’s yours already. My love is not a blessing to you, Syrus! It’s a damn curse! You are the necromancer of all that was dead in me. I hate you for that! I feel pain and fear…fear above all else. I had killed my fear. Buried it. And now it’s back, choking me! Damn you!”

  She reared up and struck him in the chest over and over and hard as she could. He grabbed her arms, restraining her. She pushed against him with everything she could as though she could crash through him. A feral growl broke out of her. “I want to hurt you, Syrus! I want you to feel the agony you’ve created inside me. But you never will. You’ll never understand.” She let herself go limp, and she slid back to the ground sobbing. “How could I not hate you? You’ve robbed me of my spirit. I can’t trust you. Can’t trust what you are. You think you mean well, but I’m nothing but a toy to you.” She wept bitterly.

  He knelt with his heart ripping in pain and reached for her. She didn’t pull away. As soon as he touched her, she curled up in his arms.

  “It’s not true,” he whispered.

  She raised her tear-streaked face, and again he kissed her. He meant to show her, if only he could, if only she would let him. Love seemed to flow from her mouth into his, staggering him. His fangs began to throb, not from a desire to drink from her, but a scorching rage to tear Leith’s throat out.

  “You don’t belong to him. You belong to me,” Syrus said through his clenched teeth.

  Forest stiffened in his arms, and he knew that in his rage he had said the wrong thing. She pulled away slowly, stood, picked up her backpack, and strapped it on. Syrus didn’t move.

  “I can’t belong to you, Syrus. I don’t even belong to myself.”

  The next second, she darted through the trees and was gone, leaving him all alone.

  Chapter Eighteen