Blakeshire

  We had reached the top of that hill, and the ground was leveling out. Once I had put the car in a different gear, I reached for her hand. With a glance, I could see that glow under my touch, feel a warm rush. I was starting to believe she was my fire. I sucked in a silent breath when the memories of the cold I’d battled came to mind. I never wanted her to see me that weak. Ever.

  “I was rarely truly grateful for anything growing up. The first thing I remember creating that feeling was Preston. I knew if he was deaf, then he would never hear the voice of Donalt or anyone else in that court. That if that were the case, he would always be warm, he would never feel their coldness in his soul.”

  “What did they do to you?” she asked as look of concern crept across her face.

  “On the surface, nothing that ever seemed damaging. It was just words, words that would linger in your mind late at night. Words that I still hear.”

  “You hear him now?” she asked as her hand tightened around mine.

  “Not right now, but often.” I relaxed my body into my seat.

  It was almost like telling her that I had knocked down another brick in the wall that was dividing the two of us. “It feels like ice…coldness running through my soul, through my heart. The only way to stop the pain of it is to find anger. Yet, in the long run that makes it worse because when you are angry you say and do things that you know are wrong—that you know you will regret, but you don’t care because right then your way is the only way that matters.”

  “Is that the coldness you are trying to get over, the bubble you have to pass before you’ll go and see your father?”

  The air grew tight. She was on point, almost too much so. I couldn’t figure out why she was so focused on my father. Yesterday while she slept I spoke to Landen. We both agreed that we have to be honest about our past with our girls. That if we let them deeper into our souls, we could, in some way, save them from this attack on their insights that they both yielded as weapons.

  I was the one that gave him that advice, but now I’m certain my words are haunting me. I didn’t want her to see me as a murderer, but I didn’t want to justify that I had killed my father because I was too focused on Willow at the moment to care. And truth be told, even before those last few brash weeks of my father’s life, the mood between us was never balanced. I blamed him and my mother for letting me live through what I did. I would have protected my family. I didn’t feel that my father did.

  “I just can’t go and see him when I know that anger is still within me. In my mind, that would be like me walking up to him with Donalt at my side. I have to become the man my father never knew me to be before I face him again.”

  “I think you already are that man. Inside, you are.”

  I needed to hear that. Creator help me, I truly did.

  “I’m still cold,” I murmured. I should have brought some ginger with me. I was overdue for one of Donalt’s attacks, and I doubted that Zander would be able to pop in and save the day as he had for years. I told myself I was too happy right now for him to invade me—I hoped I was right.

  She let the conversation rest at that point. I was falling hard for her. She knew when to push me and when to let go. Every man needed a woman like that.

  I glanced at her; she was deep in thought. Every once in a while, she would fist her hands and hold her breath. She was deep in her mind, and my instincts told me she was reliving the dream she refused to tell me about. It also made me think that she was aware of whatever three sacrifices Zander had all but swore I would have to make with this trial of Saturn. I couldn’t ask her because I doubted she knew what she knew, and I didn’t want to scare her.

  Moments later, she spoke again. “What was your father’s favorite candy? Peppermint?”

  I glanced at her like she was insane. Where did that come from? “I don’t think I saw him ever eat candy—why?”

  “Does he smell like mint?”

  I furrowed my brow as a perplexed grin came over me. “No, coffee usually.”

  Now she was the one looking at me like I was crazy. Her mesmerizing green eyes were rushing across my face. She always had that look when she was trying to consume as much information as possible, and apparently she was coming up empty with this search. She was biting one side of her bottom lip, an adorable gesture. I reached to caress her lip, silently telling her to just ask whatever she wanted to know.

  “You’re not going to tell me why you asked something so random?” I asked in a low tone as she let a breath out. I loved how she responded to my every touch. I really did.

  “It’s not all that random. You smell like mint.” She blushed. “You taste like mint.”

  “I smell like mint?” I repeated, raising my brow.

  “Sometimes roses.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “No one has ever told you that? You can’t smell it? Taste it?”

  “No,” I said with an innocent grin, “and I’m trying to figure out if I should be flattered or offended.”

  “Kinda my favorite flavor right now.”

  A sinful grin took possession of my lips. “And how did that link you back to my father?”

  “Because for some reason in my head, I think your father smells like peppermint.”

  “Must be a solitary trait.”

  “Was he angry? Like, did he embrace that emotion?” she asked.

  That smile of mine just expanded as I shook my head. “No, my mother carried enough anger for the both of them. He wasn’t passive. He was just curious and patient. A lot like August.”

  August was my grandfather, but I had only known of him for a few months. I resonated with him immediately.

  “Then I’m going to love him,” she said confidently.

  I had lost track of the conversation. My heart was starting to thunder. We were seconds away from what I was dying to show her. My last test.

  ~ Madison ~

  “Close your eyes,” he said to me.

  “What?”

  “We are almost to part of this surprise. I want to see your eyes when you see it first, and I can’t do that and drive at the same time.”

  “I really suck at not peeking,” I said as I leaned forward and put my forehead on my lap. I heard him laugh, but I knew my weaknesses.

  A moment later, he parked.

  “Now?”

  “I’m going to come around,” I heard him say as the door opened, then closed.

  When he opened my door and I felt the cool air race in, I turned my head to look up at him. “Should I be nervous?”

  “No,” he murmured with a blush. What was odd was that he was nervous. It was the first time I felt an emotion coming from him so clearly.

  I reached for his hand and held his gaze as I stepped out. He nodded for me to look forward, and when I did I saw a waterfall that was only thirty feet or so high. On the top ridge there were endless flowers in every color known to the imagination. As the water ran by these flowers, the pigment of them flooded the fall, making it look like a rainbow. As it pooled in the basin, some of the colors remained solitary and others mingled creating a pastel shade off which the sun was gleaming merrily.

  I’d heard of déjà vu before, but I had never felt it this deeply. A wave of energy swept over me—it took my breath away. I felt a slow, deep pounding in my chest.

  “Like it?” he said so quietly that I barely heard him.

  All I could do was nod once as my wide eyes took in the detail. More than once, I had created something close to this. I would stand at the top of a ladder and let the paint run from the ceiling to the floor, but I was never able to create something this breathtaking.

  “When you showed me some of your work the other night, this place came to mind instantly.”

  My work he was referring to was the bonus room in the house I grew up in. My mother gave me free rein to paint or do anything I wanted to do. The waterfall wall had been there for years. Months back, for some reason when I was mad at my dreams, mad that t
he boy I was dreaming about was looking at a girl that looked just like me, I destroyed that wall. Well, kind of; I threw a bucket of black paint across it, and ran my hands through, as every piece of it was covered with that darkness. In the end when it dried, the colors beamed through the black. My mother thought I created that on purpose; she had no idea it was the result of an emotional breakdown.

  I remembered Drake staring at it as I loaded the DVD. His emotion was so reserved when he gazed at it. Peace. That was what I felt from him. I didn’t have the nerve now or then to tell him why the black paint was shrouding the once bright images.

  “This feels…I’ve been here.”

  That nervousness mixed with excitement absorbed his emotion. “You mean that?”

  “I could almost swear to it.”

  He reached for my hand and placed it on his chest; there, I felt his heart racing. “Do you feel what you are doing to me right now, Madison Marie?”

  I blushed. “How am I doing that to you when this is my surprise?”

  He grasped my hand and started to pull me to the edge of the waterfall. We walked around the water basin, then up the hill which was steep enough that he had to balance me a time or two.

  Right when we reached the top, my breath seized.

  The waterway that was feeding that waterfall was coming from two different sources, and the springs circled a beautiful scene. Massive willow trees were there. The trunks were not solid, but several pieces growing together as they joined just before the branches broke free. The space in the center of the trunk was so massive that you could camp there, build a home inside. The branches had white blooms and reached from the ground up to at least a hundred feet in the air.

  I had dreamed of this place. In vivid detail. It was just too unreal, too beautiful to be real.

  I felt that slow pounding, my heart crawling to a stopping point. Even though I felt Drake’s stare, I could not utter a word.

  I felt warm. Feeling like I was getting ready to faint, I unbuttoned my coat, trying to find air.

  “Are you all right?” he asked so quietly that I wasn’t sure he really said it.

  “I dreamed of this place, more times than I can count.”

  “Are you sure it was this place?” he asked in far too serious a tone.

  In a daze, I walked forward. The largest willow was in the center of this field that was lined with springs. This was the tree that I always found myself within. I would pull out a hidden box, gaze at what was there, and then tuck it away safely.

  Once I was before this tree, I felt a burst of energy reach for me. I wished with every ounce of my soul that my vision was restored to the way it was a few days ago. I could only imagine the shades of energy that were in this sacred place. I stepped inside the fortress of the massive canopy, then into the hollow space between the trunks.

  With a trembling hand, I reached up and found the wooden crevasse that I had explored a million times over. I felt something cold and heavy. Nervously, I pulled out the small box; by then, Drake had crept closer and was peering in at me.

  The box was so heavy that it had to be made of pure silver. As I brushed my thumb across the metal it shined, and a simple smile came to me as I opened it. Lying there on the velvet pillow was a locket. An intricate top with an array of symbols hinted at what could only be a clock on the inside. As soon as I unlatched that top piece, a burst of warm air and energy blew past me, pushing the long strands of my hair over my shoulder.

  The clock inside was like no other. There were no numbers, but something that looked like three leaf clovers. Beneath this point, you could see layers and layers of wheels that no longer spun in place.

  I closed the top and with trembling hands turned the locket so I could see the back. As I turned it, flashes came to my mind. I remembered losing it, searching everywhere with nothing less than panic, then Drake returning it to me. He had added an inscription, and now on the back the same words were there: first, last, forever.

  I couldn’t believe it was real, that this piece of jewelry existed, that my random dreams had reflected truth, one that was more than needed at this pivotal point in my life. And it didn’t escape my attention that those were the same words I drew on his arm the other night.

  “This is mine.” My eyes rose to meet his. I trusted few, and I could not help thinking this was planted here. That somehow, someone had seen this in my thoughts and told him about it, that he’d staged this. As my mind questioned him, I saw flashes of his perception. Though he had lingered near the waterfall below, climbed that hill a hundred times over, he had never once passed the edge, stepped into the meadow with the trees. In his mind, I could sense his emotions. He never dared to move forward simply because grief had seized him.

  I also saw his perception of my dream, of me scorning him for touching this locket, for taking it. That argument stopped when I saw what he’d added to it, his words of devotion. In that dream of his, he asked me why I was so worried, who had given me the locket. It was clear by the look in his eyes that he was jealous. I sat him down and told him that it was given to me by my mother before I left home, that it was more than a watch; it was a guide, a map to a better tomorrow. The dream stopped there.

  This locket that was my clear guide whenever the reality of that dream had taken place was now a mystery, an added layer to all that I was trying to unravel in my life.

  Drake’s eyes filled with devotion. “You passed a test by saying that you remembered this place, by walking right to this tree…have I passed the test I see in your eyes?” he asked gently as he moved closer and took the locket from my trembling hand.

  Carefully, he let the long chain fall and then eased it over my head. The weight of the locket fell to just below my ribs. As it rested there, I felt a wave of validation wash over me. I was the first. We had a destiny that was altered by evil, one that Drake didn’t deserve to be blamed for, simply because if I did blame him, or held on to rage for his actions over the last few months, they would win.

  “You have never failed a test,” I admitted quietly.

  He pulled my hand to his chest so I could feel his heart pounding. “You bring fire.”

  “So do you,” I said as my eyes dared to meet his. The warm, burning sensation he brought to my soul, blossomed.

  I thought for sure that he would kiss me, that I would lose myself right here and right now in his arms.

  “Wait right here,” he said as he squeezed my hand then turned to leave.

  I slid the box in my jacket as I watched him make his way to where the hill led downward.

  I couldn’t handle the jacket anymore; it was too warm up here. I took it off, laced it through the thick trunk, and stepped out to stare up at the long braches that were swaying with the gentle wind. Some of the petals broke free and swam through the air before finding one of the streams and fluttering down to the fall.

  This place had been my sanctuary at one time, but never my home. I was sure of it. I clasped the locket as I tried to call more lost dreams and memories back to me. Nothing. That was irritating.

  Before long, Drake was back with a large basket in his hand. Once again, he looked like anyone or anything but the prince of a damned dimension.

  “What do you have there?” I asked as he came closer and I saw a deep purple scarf tying the handles together.

  “Lunch,” he said as he stepped into the base of the tree.

  I wasn’t just going to stand there and watch him set it all up. I followed him in and reached to pull the purple cloth loose. “This color is following us today.”

  “It’s like a crest here. Each family has a color. They gave me this one long ago.”

  “You have a lot of friends here,” I murmured, thinking of that child earlier and the artist that had given me the image that was still in my coat.

  “Acquaintances,” he supplied as he pulled out a large blanket that padded the soft ground.

  “Why is it so warm up here?” I asked him as I saw him pull off h
is long coat and lay it along the blanket to give it even more of a pillow effect.

  “Those springs are hot. The steam heats the air.”

  “Feels like summer in the middle of winter.”

  He grinned at me. “Yeah, it does.” I felt that sensation I was calling love, swell in his emotions, just as the scent of roses took over the air. I was learning to read him; most of his simple phrases carried more than one meaning, which meant that he was a constant mystery, someone that you could never fully sum up in a few words. I think that is what I adored most about him.

  I heard a rustle of branches and jumped in defense. It took a second or two for me to notice that it was just the wind; all the white petals that had broken loose made it seem like it was snowing around us.

  I felt his hand on my waist and glanced up to see a serious gaze. “We are in our own world right now. No one would ever come up here.”

  “Not scared. Anxious.”

  “Anxious about lunch?” he teased.

  “No…I’m anxious because I’m not hungry right now.”

  The playful gaze that was raining down on me turned serious as he seemed to evaluate what I did not clearly say.

  “Kiss me, Drake.”

  Before I could turn to prove how serious I was about that statement, his lips met mine. It was a slow, deep kiss that reached in and grabbed my soul, causing that warm, blissful sensation of his to blossom throughout every part of my body. I turned in his arms so I could reach up for his shoulders; the second I had him in my embrace, he picked me up, then without losing control of his entrancing kiss, he lowered us to the to the ground, to the blankets he’d laid there.

  I’m sure if I still possessed the emotion of fear, I would have reached the point of panic right about then, but I didn’t have fear; I had raw passion. It was so thick and deep in my soul that at first I didn’t realize that his was just as dense, just as powerful.

  With hungry arms, I explored every part of his chest, his arms, his back. I wanted him closer.

  Every part of me was on fire. His touch was so powerful, yet gentle, leaving me to question his next move, my next move. At that point, I had already gone further with him than I had ever planned to.