Eternal Eden

I was surrounded by a web of warmth and molded against something that fit my body as if hand-tailored for it.

  These were the first signs I was coming out of the blackness that had consumed me. I heard humming next as a woodsy, cinnamon-laced scent filled my awakened senses, and the electricity that sparked between our united bodies confirmed—without the need to open my eyes—who was the bearer of all these pleasant gifts. My heart fluttered, and the restored energy within me surged.

  “Mmmm . . . I can feel you again—the good way I remember.” The familiar voice ceased humming to whisper in my ear.

  My eyes opened, no longer able to enjoy the sensory potpourri of him without adding the view through my eyes. As usual, the very sight of him invoked a cascade-like effect of reactions within my body, this time being no different. His warm smile paired with the glowing pale blue of his eyes made me dizzy. So dizzy, it was a good thing I was lying horizontally in his arms.

  “Is this for real?” I whispered, reaching my hand to his face, still foggy from the extended slumber and from his ever present hypnotic aura.

  He chuckled as I traced the pieces of his face. “I believe it is, although I don’t really care what it is.” His eyes closed when I traced over his lips.

  “And why is that?” I asked, knowing I felt the same way.

  His eyes sparkled. “Because I’m here with you, of course. And we’re surrounded by some rather impressive beauty.” His eyes left mine and trailed around us. “Although it has nothing on the beauty beside me,” he said, tracing his eyes back to mine.

  With determination, I forced my eyes to pry themselves from the man lying beside me to view the landscape surrounding us. We were lying on a worn quilt in a vast field that coursed its way along irregularly patterned rolling hills, which were enclosed by tall spires of snow-capped mountains. The stillness and rugged beauty of the landscape could be nowhere else but Montana.

  William had taken me to his home.

  A stream cascaded over round, brightly covered river rocks in front of us, and the endless blue of the sky above contrasted with the vibrant greens, grays and yellows of the countryside lying beneath it in such I way I felt I was caught up in a Maxfield Parrish painting.

  Having my fill of the less impressive landscape, I looked back at him. His smile was as bright and inescapable as the mid-day sun, but I was suddenly covered in a blanket of darkness when my mind recalled the final moments of consciousness I’d had.

  The grips of seven sets of hands as they drew the life from me; the indescribable pain and tortured screams of the man I loved; the dark, advancing void I progressed into when the promise of a permanent sleep drew me in; the inexplicable release of seven sets of hands; and the fallen, crumpled-up bodies lying in piles. A full body shudder ran through me, and my jaw clenched together unnaturally when I tried to ward the evil memories away.

  “What’s the matter?” he questioned anxiously, resurfacing me from the dark depths. His eyes locked on mine and pulled me back to the surface of the present moment, with slightly less blissful ignorance.

  “What happened?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “How did you get me out of there?”

  William paused for a moment, an expression of indecision settling on his face, and then it cleared. “Once Patrick—”

  My restored mind recalled the face of my pale angel. “Patrick? How did he get in there?”

  One corner of his mouth pulled up. “He’s a Teleporter.”

  I let that sink in. “That explains a lot,” I said, recalling the times he’d appeared out of nowhere.

    William continued, “Once Patrick removed Stella’s hold from me, we had no problem with the scum Enforcers,” he hissed, looking like he was placing himself back at the scene. “I got to you as fast as I could, and we got you out of that place. That’s really about it.” He shrugged his shoulders dismissively, and kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the distant mountains.

  I raised an eyebrow and leaned up on one elbow. “Really about it?” I mimicked his words with disbelief in mine. “You can’t possibly think you can appease me with an answer like that, can you?”

  A sheepish look covered his face, and the outer corners of his mouth tweaked from a repressed smile. “No, I didn’t really think so. I was more hoping so.” The arm which was wrapped around me, reached up to run his fingers through my hair. “You don’t really want to know all the details though, Bryn—not yet anyway. Will you trust me on this?” His face and voice pleaded, weakening my fight . . . but not conquering it.

  “What happened to the Councilmen?” I pressed, not ready to give in yet. This was the part that made the least sense. They’d been there one second—strong and very near to completing their goal—when suddenly they were gone and lying in helpless masses. 

  William’s face looked careful again. “That part is hard to explain. It appeared they were rendered weak and some looked very near to death—”

  “But how could that have happened?” I interjected, my voice growing shrill—partly because none of it made sense, and partly because I could tell from his tone he was hiding something from me. 

  “I don’t know,” he answered promptly. “I didn’t have time to stop and figure that out. All I could focus on was the miracle I’d been given by having a way to get you out of there. One doesn’t question the makings that went into the miracle when they’ve been given such a gift,” he finished, sounding edgy.

  I bit my lip, fighting back the confusion and angry tears that wanted to come. I’d seen William like this before, but he’d never been like this with me. Whatever he was hiding from me was significant.  

  “How long have I been out?” I questioned, leaving the former topic for another time when he wasn’t so heated and I wasn’t so near tears.

  “Not so long this time—only two days. Your body went through an incredible shock and needed to rest until it was rebuilt and strong again.” He nuzzled at me gently, and the edge in his voice was gone.

  I remembered the last words I’d heard two days ago and the intimate stream of energy filling me. “Are you in pain?” I asked, eyeing him over.

  His brow furrowed and formed into the lines of confusion my face held a good majority of the time. “No, I couldn’t possibly be any farther from pain. Why do you ask?”

  “Your gift . . .” I struggled to get out, feeling unworthy for everything he’d given me. “You shared it with me again.”

  His hand tilted my chin up. “Yes?”

  “Didn’t it hurt you?”

  “Not even a little bit,” he said without hesitation.

  “But Patrick said—”

  “Patrick’s a baby. He takes a couple days to recover from a team Immortalization . . . so you can’t possibly believe what he says.” The affection in his eyes was unreal. “Plus, he’s never done it for someone like you.”

  “Like me? William, you really are delusional. The passing of time only further confirms this.” My voice sounded irritated, because I was. He talked about me how I did him, and I was nowhere near what William Hayward was. I slumped down flat on my back.

  He propped up on one elbow and leaned over me. “I don’t think you understand.” One of his hands came to rest on the side of my face. “You haven’t been some piece of my life—you’ve been my life. You will always be my life,” he professed, lowering his lips and running them over my hairline, crippling my ability to form a coherent thought.

  My thoughts became serious again when his lips left my skin, and while they had twirled around my mind for awhile now, I couldn’t keep them to myself any longer.

  “Don’t you wonder why the world is aligning against us being together?” I asked, and although my voice was barely a whisper, I knew the words were piercing.  “I’ve never felt so at odds with anything in my life.”

  The unpleasant considerations heavy in my words caused William’s forehead to crease, but I continued, “It’s as if the world never wanted us to be together . . .
why else would it be trying with such strength to keep us apart . . . or take our lives?” I whispered, the spoken words feeling more as a weight as opposed to a relief.

  As much as I wanted to be assured William and I would be granted peace in our lives together, the reminders of the formidable obstacles we’d already overcome in such a short time together could not be dismissed. I now understood why we never ran into each other when we were working at the same station in Java. “Don’t you ever feel the same?”

  I couldn’t stand to stare into his aged-looking eyes any longer. I tried to roll away from him onto my side, to escape the shame I felt from my admission and the tension I felt coursing through his body. As I rolled away from him, his hand affixed over my shoulder and wouldn’t allow my retreat.

  He tilted my head until our eyes aligned. “No, Bryn. I’ve never felt, believed or thought that. Never.” If his words had not been softened with concern, their conviction would have frightened me.

  “You don’t have the convenience of knowing for the past two hundred years, you have been unequivocally pulled towards some other being . . . the one person created for you and no one else. Knowing as well you’d been created for her—every genetic characteristic, every learned habit, every step taken in your life only taken to get you closer to that serendipitous moment when the two halves of the whole would meet.” His words were strong, but his eyes were gentle.

  “I’ve never felt you and I were not intended to be together, and I never will. There’s not a single fiber of my being that isn’t wholly convinced I was meant to spend my life loving you in whatever way you would have me . . .”—he smiled apologetically—“If you would have me at all.”

  I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes, biting my lip in an attempt as well.

  He was absolutely right in terms of what he was saying. I wasn’t questioning the reasoning of our love, or even that we’d been meant for each other. I was questioning—more like speculating given the tumultuous weeks we’d spent dodging disaster after disaster—that this cruel, merciless world we’d been born into, and would now reside in forever, had decided to tempt us with the purest of loves, to only have us fighting for it every day forward.

  I also wasn’t doubting something good created this man beside me, and by some incomprehensible miracle, I’d been made to one day be his. There was no denying this, but what if once created and set on our merry ways, that something good washed its hands of us, and we were now fated to the whims and fancies of a world that dealt unfair hands to those who experienced a measure of happiness that didn’t naturally occur within this spherical mass rotating in the galaxy?

  No, I wasn’t disagreeing with what he’d passionately answered in response to my verbalized broodings, but he’d not directly answered me—would the world not rest until the very soul of our love lie bleeding at its feet, thrashing with the efforts of every diminishing breath, until it took its last, and was gone? What price would the world ask if we refused to surrender it?  I shuddered when the answer surfaced into a very visual reminder of ours lives hanging by a thread only several days ago.

  “Did you hear me?” He asked when the minutes continued to pass while the inner debate ran through my troubled mind.

  I forcefully pushed it aside, saving it for another time. A time when I wouldn’t be held so closely to the man I’d just happily forfeited my life for, and would do again right now if necessary. No, this was not the time for internal debates and troublesome concerns—this was a time for something else.

  “I heard you,” I whispered, before easing my head off the ground, my lips searching for his. With eased force, he tucked his arm tighter around me and drew me the remaining distance to him, his lips crossing the final space between.

  He kissed me sweetly, barely grazing my mouth, and then whispered in between the confines of our united lips, “I was so afraid I’d lost you.” His body trembled, and he took in a heavy breath through his nose. The continued pressure of his expanding chest against mine ignited the fires already sprouting up.

  “I’m here,” I whispered through the parted space of our mouths. “I’ll always be here with you.”

  Both my hands reached for the back of his head, interlacing his hair in my fingers, at the same time my lips moved with need upon his.

  His body responded—and unlike before, where I’d always seemed the more urgent—his hands seized around whatever piece of my body they were molded to, and his lips pulsed against mine. When they forced mine further apart and his tongue met mine, I was the one who let the instinctual sound escape from my throat.

  Minutes later, I moaned again, but this time in response to his lips removing from mine. They trembled in protest, the rest of my body following suit—as an addict would when going through withdrawals.

  He grinned widely when he saw my crazed face below him. He chuckled in obvious amusement when I tried fruitlessly to pull him back down over me, desperate to quench whatever fires roared within me only he could extinguish.

  “Easy, love, please . . . before my resolve weakens any closer to that thread-thin line you’ve already pressed me to with the”—he cleared his throat in indication--“persuasiveness of your position.”

  I was still trying to pull him back to me, but he wasn’t budging, and since my body couldn’t respond with what I wanted to convey to him, I let my words try.

  “I wasn’t done with you yet,” I whispered as silkily as I could, gazing into his eyes.

  “And I not with you, but I fear if I would have continued any longer, I wouldn’t have had enough willpower to stop myself from . . .” He stammered over the last words, looking uncomfortable and frustrated in a way I could understand—the same way I was feeling.

  “And why would that be a problem?” I replied, continuing to keep my voice silky and persuasive, despite it not garnishing the desired result I wanted.

  His brows furrowed, crunching the skin between them in several lines. “I seem to recall a rather decided young woman telling me only a few nights ago she was not ready”—he paused, motioning between us for emphasis—“for all this.”

  What! I said what?! was my gut response—I’d wanted William several nights ago just as much as I wanted him now.

  The second response reminded me of my mission in life, other than loving him: I had to keep him safe. I would not allow him to give up everything to be with me, nor would I ever endanger his life again from the weakness of my pleasure driven instincts. We would go through the proper process of the Immortal way before we fully pledged our bodies to one another.

  Now that we were in William’s own Alliance and under the power of his Council, we could make our appeal for a Betrothal together. Hopefully they’d grant us a quick one, I thought with chagrin, as I felt a familiar frenzied shooting sensation concentrate wherever his body ran against mine.

  “Oh, yeah,” I conceded to him with great effort, giving it everything I had to sound convincing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have let that get so out of hand.” I smiled my apology as well and removed the silk from my voice.

  He chuckled and caressed one hand down my cheekbone. “I didn’t mind one bit.” He laughed exuberantly and hopped up, pulling me with him into an upright position. Probably for the best since our horizontal position was only chancing a fate we’d only be able to ward off for so long.

  “I don’t call you my temptress for no reason, you know?” he whispered in my ear, igniting millions of goose-bumps.

  My face, still contorted with the wistfulness and frustration of not being able to experience what I so desperately wanted, stopped William’s laugh.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asked, sounding grave. I did not miss his eyes jolting between me and the laid out blanket below us. His eyes were smoldering with anticipation when they finally came to rest on me.

  Yes!  I wanted to shout, knowing he’d waste no time finding our way back to the beckoning blanket, and when his hands explored me with the fullne
ss mine did him, would anything else really matter? I knew from previous experiences with him the answer was a firm, resounding no. So my only defense against “saving” us from impending perfection, was to answer him in the negative.

  “No, I’ve not changed my mind.” I could feel the heat from the redness forming over my cheeks. “Not yet, anyways.”

  He reached for my scarlet cheek cautiously, probably not wanting to reignite the flames we’d managed to somewhat stifle. His fingers stroked over the heated skin and the eagerness that had torn against my embattlements, melted with the temptation removed.

  “Please remember what I told you—don’t ever feel any pressure from me. I would be happy being with you in the most conventional of ways, but”—he raised his eyebrows devilishly and smiled with about as much innocence—“if you do change your mind . . .” He trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.

  “Don’t worry. I think I might have a hunch who would be interested in me changing my mind on this certain topic.” I winked at him, and felt my cheeks flush a shade deeper. Wanting to lean forward to kiss him, I stopped myself short, remembering the repercussions of the previous gentle kiss that had started this whole thing, and settled for grabbing hold of his hand. He squeezed mine, and grabbed up the quilt.

  “So what do you think of Montana?” He motioned to the expansive, endless mystery of the countryside before us.

  “It’s beautiful. How lucky are you, getting to spend your time between the Oregon coast and here?” I thrust my hand out at the quiet landscape to emphasize my point. “What else could anyone ask for?”

  He chuckled to himself as one would when privy to some private joke.

  I looked at him with embellished annoyance. “Anything you’re keeping to yourself over there you’d like to share with me?”

  His smile was full of mischief. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet anyways.” His eyes glimmered with some private secret.

  I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but didn’t push the secret topic any further, hoping—like a child suddenly ignored—he would freely admit to whatever he was hiding from me.

  I changed the subject. “Will I get to meet your father?” I asked, taking a deep swallow in an attempt to thwart the nervousness gripping around my throat.

  He nodded his head. “Yes, my father is here, as is everyone else.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yes, everyone—Patrick, Nathanial, Abigail, Joseph, Cora.” His mouth formed lovingly around the names of his family.

  “They’ll be thrilled to see you awake and recovered. Cora especially . . . she’s really taken a liking to you.”

  “I suppose I’ve got a lot to thank Patrick for as well, don’t I?” I shook my head, feeling a mix of emotions that another Hayward had risked his life for me.

  “You don’t need to feel too indebted to him. He’s been bragging about the whole thing non-stop.” He eyed me with knowing. “He also got to drive that vehicle you failed to mention to me that John Townsend imparted to you.”

  I looked away from his stare, concentrating on the ground we walked over.

  “If I’d known about that earlier, I would have gotten you out of there at the first mention of the Ball,” he continued, sounding amused instead of angry as I’d feared when he learned of the secret I’d kept from him . . . and then I remembered the little one he’d kept from me.

  My mouth twisted up. “Kind of like that floating palace you told me was John’s?”

  I raised my eyebrows as he just had with me “Patrick’s got a big mouth,” I said in explanation.

  “That’s an understatement,” he replied, looking sheepish.

  “I’ve got the perfect way to extend my thanks to your talkative little brother,” I said, pulling my hand from his to wrap it around his waist. I hitched my thumb on the belt loop of his jeans.

  “What would that be?”

  “I was going to have a bon fire party with it . . . but it would be an awful waste.” Despite my plans for watching my dream car go up in flames due to the person who’d given it to me tainting it, I felt physical pain when I thought of it burning.

  “I think you’d have a new best friend if you did that, and you know how Patrick annoys you.”

  “With that car, he wouldn’t be around to annoy me.”

  “Excellent point, you’re thinking like a Hayward now.” He chuckled, and my heart thumped harder when I thought of becoming a Hayward.

  “It’s settled,” I stated, eager to tell Patrick the car was his, and to watch his response. He gave me such a hard time for fainting the other night . . . I wonder if I could get him close with the car?

  We crested over the top of a hill, and below us, tucked in a far reaching emerald valley, was a sprawling home made of honey-colored logs, topped with steep angled green metal roofing. A cooper weather vane of a rearing horse spun lazily at the center of the roofline. To the side of the home stood an equally large, faded-red barn, which opened into a fenced pasture where several horses grazed within.

  “The Hayward household.” William swept his hand over the picturesque establishment in the valley below. “At least one of them.”

  A curling trail of smoke crept through the chimney and I saw a couple figures as they glided by the windows of the first floor.

  “Wow,” I admitted, dumbfounded.

  John’s Manor, in all its over-the-top magnitude and extravagance, didn’t hold a tenth of the appeal this pleasant, ranch-like homestead did for me. Despite the fact this was William’s home, and an important part of him, I knew if a thousand homes were laid before me, and I was asked to choose one, I would have easily selected this one I stared at now. The unpretentious, natural beauty of the home complemented, and didn’t try to outdo, the landscape surrounding it.

  William pulled on me, his eyes flickering with excitement. “Come on,” he encouraged, our legs already forming into a sprint down the hill. “I’ve got a present I want to give you before dinner.”

  With the reminder of presents, my free hand flitted to my neck, where it fingered the sapphire promise still attached. I flooded with relief when I found it there, worried that somewhere in the midst of the chaos of the past two days, it may have fallen from the spot I vowed it would remain forever.

  We came to a shrieking stop just outside a set of the barn’s doors, a cloud of dust stirred over the trail behind from our furious speed.

  “Wait here, and close your eyes,” he commanded.

  I exhaled in protest, but did as requested.

  A couple minutes later, after enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on my back, I heard William coming towards me—my hearing attuned enough to recognize something else walking spryly beside him. I wanted to tear my eyelids open from the suspense, but just in time, his feet came to a stop in front of me. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

  My hands flew to my mouth when I saw the cause of the additional footfalls besides William’s . . . or should I say hoof-falls? The buckskin colored foal standing beside William on a lead, was the only thing that could have distracted my attention from the beaming face of the one whose gifts to me were more thoughtful and all-knowing than I would have known to ask for.

  The foal was still tiny, barely weeks old I’d guess. Its black spiky mane, contrasted with the cremello color of its body, and those large, flighty brown eyes met mine with a look that commented, Who the heck are you, and what are you looking at? I immediately fell in love with the unsure, capricious animal before me.

  “Do you like her?” he asked eagerly.

   I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck—despite my frenzied response, the filly remained calm at our side. “I love her. Thank you so much.” I tilted his head down and began stifling it with quick kisses, trying to cover every square inch of the face I worshipped.

  He laughed at my response and wrapped his free arm around my waist. My thanks were completed when my lips finished their journey upon his, and then I turned to the silent fi
lly who was looking at me with as much interest as I was her.

  “Her mother died shortly after she was born a few weeks ago. My father’s been hand nursing this little one, and when I had a chance to see her yesterday, I took an immediate liking to her,” he explained.

  I reached out to stroke the velvety softness of her muzzle, and her nostrils flared in and out, taking in my scent.

  “She’s a little stand-offish at first, quiet, shy—but once she grew to trust me, she became one of the sweetest little fillies I’ve been around, especially given the fact she’s not had her mother to show her the ropes.” He smiled proudly at the filly that was still sniffing me with obvious interest. She didn’t flinch when I moved my hand to pet her muscular neck. “She’s a strong one. She’ll make a wonderful companion. She’s a little stubborn too.” He chuckled and ran his fingers through her mane.

  I just nodded my head when his observations confirmed what I’d already sensed in the weeks old horse beside me, and whether it registered with William or not, she was the equine equivalent to me.

  “How did you know?” I asked in awe, when I looked back at him, continuing to stroke the thoughtful gift beside us.

  His smile was sheepish, as he tapped his head with his index finger in explanation.

  I understood, and encircled my arms around his waist. “Anything else those Foretellings of yours show you about me . . . or about us?” I leaned in, whispering in his ear—my tone explanation enough for the hidden meaning in my words.

  His fire-engine-red flush confirmed he understood perfectly.

  “Bryn!” An excited, musical voice exclaimed from behind us.

  I reluctantly released him from my hold.

  When I turned, I found a delighted smile covering Cora’s face. She bounded to me and swept me into a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you again.” She released me from the embrace, and her face went somber. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you both made it out of there alright. When I heard what happened . . .” Her eyes looked off into the distance and she shivered.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again too,” I answered wholeheartedly.

  Her eyes drifted back to us, falling on the foal, before returning to mine with their usual enthusiasm. “Do you like your present?”

  I fingered through the spiky black mane again. “I love it. How many people get a horse as a ‘just because’ present?”

  Cora looked pointedly at William and then raised her brows in explanation. She  leaned in as if she were just speaking to me. “Something tells me if he thought you wanted the Titanic, he would retrieve it from the depths of the Atlantic for you.”

  We both giggled, but I didn’t really doubt her.

  “Supper’s ready you two. Abigail’s been working on it all day since this is the first dinner we’ve all had together as a whole family in awhile.” She looked purposefully at William. “So let’s not keep her waiting, okay?”

  “We’ll be right behind you,” William answered, as Cora spun around to make her way back to the house.

  “Let me put her away and we’ll go have some dinner, and I’ll introduce you to my father,” he said to me.

  I gulped.

  “Don’t worry. He’s really not that scary, I promise.” I could hear the smile in his voice even though he stood behind me. “He’ll love you once he gets a chance to meet you.” There was something purposeful in his voice, something that led me to believe that Charles, and whatever he already knew of me, was not already fond of me.

  While I waited for him to return from the stable, I ran through several possible greetings I could use when introduced to William’s father—some more conventional, some more unique—and when I’d run through my seventh option, I questioned why I was so concerned with impressing the senior Hayward.

  It didn’t take long for the answer to surface. I knew what was riding on the impression William’s father, their Council’s Chancellor, had of me—a Betrothal to William. That knowledge forced the blood from my face, and the adrenaline rush of nervousness to course through my bloodstream.

  “Miss me?” a sweet voice whispered in my ear at the same time he wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “Always,” I answered. Releasing his hold of my waist, he grabbed one hand and led me towards the home where I knew our Betrothal—however informal of proceedings, but as certain as a verdict—would be decided.