Page 8

ISABELLA

Jacob left into the woods, leaving Tengu and me by the river. The shore is long with smooth and round rocks covering it. Facing the water, Tengu and I sit on the stones, watching the lazy current.

Tengu’s black skin is eerie, and the way his eyes glow should be terrifying, but I enjoy his company. His silly magic tricks make me feel at ease. There is an aura to his presence that’s calming.

“How do you feel about trying to open your wings again?” Tengu asks and moves his thick finger to create a cloud of shimmering pinks and blues above us. It is pretty and mesmerizing. The distraction makes it easier to think about how much it hurt when they first came out – like a dull knife dragged through the muscles of my back, digging deep to the bone. “It will not hurt again. It only does the first time, I promise.” His voice is hypnotic as I watch the colors twirl.

“I would like some time with that. Can we focus on the vampire side of me?” I offer him a smile.

I am not ready to go through that again. It’s not that I don’t believe Tengu, it’s just that – what if I do something wrong and hurt myself?

“Of course. Easier things to learn are listening, smelling, and speed.” Tengu motions his hands, and the colors expand, flowing smoothly against each other. “Try to imagine a heartbeat and listen. Or inhale and let your mind focus on a scent. Speed we can do a little later.”

Focus. It’s hard to do when I spent the last year of my life distracting myself so I could forget. Defense mechanism . A ridiculous concept. It worked for a year until everything came crashing down.

Swallowing, I try not to let the fear of the memories get to me. They are monsters of their own, I suppose.

“You cannot beat fear if you do not feel. Accept it. When you do that, you start healing from the pain,” Tengu says, adding oranges and yellows around us.

The colors swirl among each other beautifully. I shouldn’t need to be distracted to be able to listen, but it helps not to think about the rough hands that slid underneath my shirt while I screamed.

Fear. It can consume. I inhale, close my eyes, and simply focus on Tengu’s heartbeat. The memories don’t come, but the dread lingers, and I let it. Acceptance. I ready myself for the agony of trauma in my chest; I can feel it creeping in along my arms. I will face it and conquer it. The uncomfortable sensation stops as the sound of Tengu’s slow heartbeat echoes in my head. Healing . That will take time. I don’t want it to, but I understand it is needed.

“What do I smell like?” Tengu asks, his voice soft.

There is the wet scent of rocks and earth. Some floral essences mixed with pine and cedar float from the forest. They are all very distant and everywhere, so I concentrate a little more on what is in front of me. First, there are lilacs, then lilies. Confused, I tilt my head and keep trying. Now, I smell roses and lavender.

Amused, my lips curve up. I open my eyes with a laugh. “You are changing scents on purpose.”

“Good job, princess.” Tengu smiles wide, his teeth white in comparison to his black skin. “You will have all of your power under control in no time, and then you can pick fights with whomever you want.” There is a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“I don’t want to pick fights.” I chuckle.

It would be helpful if I could at least defend myself .

“Tell me something about yourself?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me as we train. “How old are you?”

“Two-thousand-sixty-three.” He gives me a side glance. “Keep listening and smelling.” There is a pleased smile on his face as he looks out at the river again.

I do as I am told, but more questions tug at my mind.

“How long have you known Jacob?” I ask, the simple song of a finch getting my attention.

“Fourteen years. I was gifted to him on his twelfth birthday,” he answers, his tone light.

“Gifted?” My eyes snap to him, and my brows pinch together.

“Yes.” He remains calm. “Focus on the smell.” Reminding me, he turns his body to face me. I listen and close my eyes, the scent of wet earth overwhelming anything else. “I am a companion demon; I have to be attached to someone. The curious thing about Jacob is that the person who gifted me to him erased my memory,” he tells me.

That is odd. Someone went through a lot of trouble to gift Tengu to Jacob. I wonder if it was Jacob’s mother. If it was her, then why?

“Do you like being with Jacob?” I ask.

“He is a good boy,” Tengu answers.

The term of endearment makes me smile. The boy is a tall man with broad shoulders who, not too long ago, ripped out a few hearts, but I suppose compared to Tengu, Jacob is one.

I concentrate on the forest. It is some distance from us, but maybe I can challenge myself by being able to smell something other than dirt. No such luck. Opening my eyes, I sigh.

“You did well. Take a break.” There is softness and pride in his voice.

Tengu turns his head to the forest, so I follow his gaze. Jacob is marching out of the trees, towards the water, not once glancing at us. His shoulders are straight and tense, and his jaw is clenched. There are blood splatters on his face and shirt, and for the first time since I met him, he looks like he could rip anyone who looks at him funny to shreds.

With his hands in tight fists, he passes us. Worried, I watch him stomp towards the river. Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he pulls it off. He throws it on the ground, and my eyes go wide at the way his muscles tense and glide. His pants follow, leaving him in only his underwear.

Oh my…dear…saints. Shamelessly, I run my eyes over his body all the way down to his waist. Staring, I can barely breathe.

Marching into the water only waist deep, he scrubs his arms, chest, and face from the dark, red stains. I watch, and something nags at my chest. He looks dangerous, but something is screaming at me to go to him.

“He needs you as much as you need him,” Tengu whispers next to me. How could a man as powerful as him need someone like me? “Go to him, princess,” Tengu says and vanishes in a black cloud.

I want to go to him and ask him what happened. I want to be his strength. Who am I kidding? He does not need me.

The pull in my heart does not ease, pinching and squeezing. Sighing, I get up and dig through a bag to find a fresh shirt and some pants for him. The least I can do is bring him some clothing.

He needs you… Tengu’s words ring in my head. He has known Jacob since he was twelve, maybe he knows something I don’t.

With his clothing in my hands, I walk to the edge of the river. Jacob walks towards me, water dripping down his muscled chest and abdomen. My throat dries as I watch drops of liquid slide down his skin.

Blinking quickly to compose myself, I straighten my shoulders and look at him. He, on the other hand, avoids eye contact. Concerned at this strange behavior, I take a deep breath for courage and step in front of him to block his way.

He will not hurt me, I tell myself, but my heartbeat escalates.

“Are you okay?” I ask and look up at him, but he is staring somewhere behind me. My fingers shake, but I raise my hand and place it against his cheek, moving it to face me. “Jacob,” I whisper.

“Killing so much puts me in a bad mood.” He sighs, his muscles twitching under my hand.

“How many?” I ask and take a step closer.

He would never hurt me.

“Eight.” His answer is rigid.

Eight of my father’s men. None of them had ever done anything to me when Alexander, my uncle, was in charge. When my father came back, their demeanor towards me changed. They are just following orders, I know, but we all have a choice. They made theirs to chase me for my father.

“Thank you,” I whisper, and move closer to him.

My chest is touching his, and I worry I overstepped a boundary. Maybe he doesn’t want me this close. His shoulders slump, he exhales heavily, and drops his head into the crook of my neck. Unsure what to expect, I don’t dare move. He drapes his arms over my hips loosely and inhales.

He doesn’t say anything, just rests his head on my shoulder, breathing slowly, and holding me close. It feels strangely satisfying to be wanted like this – for support, not my body. I feel strong holding him like this.

Jacob is in the hotel room, intently going through his notes, looking through the maps, and making marks on them. Per the information we learned, his mother is back in Sarkup. She came back last year; the same time my father returned from Rasok, a small country he conquered from the water Fay. At this point, there is no denying that his mother is after my father.

The witches said Sofia was power hungry. I wonder what she would gain by killing my father. Vampires are only loyal to their own; they would never let her rule. There are a lot of unanswered questions swirling in my mind, but it’s a puzzle I would love to help solve.

It’s strange how similar and intertwined our lives are – as if fate wanted us to meet. Fate – a funny concept. Yet, I believe the universe has intricate plans for everyone.

Watching him lean over the table, his muscles gliding and jerking on his arms and shoulders was fascinating, but my mind kept going into places it shouldn’t. The urge for his attention kept crawling to the surface, making me feel needy, so I told him I wanted to go out. I hate craving for his company, but not being worthy of so much of his time.

He was reluctant to let me walk around alone, so he gave me the ring with Tengu in it. I can’t talk with Tengu the way Jacob can, but if there is danger, Tengu will know and help me. On top of that, my hearing has been getting better. If there is a threat coming, I will know. My vampire speed is awful. Tengu said we will work on it next time we’re in the forest, but that will be another few days.

The weather is nice, and the people are friendly, but I have been out for a few hours. It’s time to head back. Maybe he is finally done investigating the route the vampire hunters took to get to my father. It happened a while ago, but Jacob says people tend to like patterns and routines.

With a pastry for him in my hand, I walk up the dark wooden stairs. Opening the door, I notice that he is still standing in the same position I left him in. My shoulders slump. The reasonable part of me understands he is not ignoring me, but the broken part thinks he is bored with me.

Stop it. He has a lot on his mind , I scold myself, place the pastry on the table next to the bed, and change into something comfortable for the night. Coming out from behind the wooden room divider, I look at him again.

He is focused, his eyes have dark circles under them, and his hair is completely disheveled. My heart aches to be close to him and ease his frustration. Hesitant to act, I blow my cheeks out.

You are being needy , the voice in my head tells me.

Unable to help myself, I take the dessert and make my way to him. I duck under his arm and position myself between the table and him. His brows go up as he moves back a little, but he keeps our distance close. My smile grows from the proximity, so I pin my lower lip with my teeth to stop it from stretching to my ears.

“I got this for you.” I grin.

He drops his gaze at the offered pastry, the piped cream glistening. I could eat another one, but I bought this one for him. His face lights up a little, and his lips move up slightly. Relieved that he is not irritated, I lift it higher to him.

His eyes meet mine with something dark and mischievous in them. He leans in, his tongue slides out, and he licks the cream. Inhaling sharply, I watch in awe.

How can a man look so delicious eating dessert? All the saints, it’s very warm in this room.

A small bit is stuck to the corner of his mouth, so I reach up and wipe it off. He inhales, his eyes roam through my body, and his pupils dilate. Because I love sweets, and I cannot resist, I lick it off my finger. A low, barely audible growl leaves his lips, and his hands slide a little closer to my hips. My heart is hammering watching him savor my body, but he is restraining himself.

I quickly realize the nightgown I am wearing is not the most modest thing, and my mind takes me to places of self-loathing.

I am using my body . He doesn’t want me, but I am half-naked in front of him, of course, he is going to react like this. Any man would. I’m behaving unfairly. Just because I crave his affection, it doesn’t mean he wants mine. It was stupid of me not to think about the clothing. Ashamed of my actions, my mind spinning, I look between us.

How stupid of me. I should’ve found something else to wear.

“Tell me, what are you thinking about?” He lifts my face to his and takes the dessert out of my hand. I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure how to avoid this conversation. If I spill my unstable emotions, he will think I am broken and a sloppy mess. “The truth, Izzy,” he whispers.

God, I love it when he calls me Izzy . It melts my heart and makes me want to be a part of him.

“I…” I start, but it is hard to say the words out loud. Honesty. “I didn’t…” I inhale. “I’m sorry for placing myself in front of you when I am practically half naked,” I blurt out and look away.

My father said the only useful thing about me was my body. Tears rim my eyes, but I try to blink them away.

“Why?” His tone sounds utterly confused, but I don’t dare look at him.

You don’t deserve affection . My mind turns and spins as I scramble to find reasoning in my thoughts.

“Because I am putting you in a situation where… you…” I don’t know how to word it properly.

“Izzy, baby.” He cups my face and looks me in the eyes. “You can wear whatever you want. Just because I want you, it doesn’t mean I get to act on it. There is more to you than just your body.” He presses a kiss on my forehead.

I want you… more than just your body… his words echo in my mind, nestling into my heart. Slumping into him, I rest my head on his chest.

“Take it slow.” He strokes my hair.

“How slow?” I groan.

I crave him – his body, mind, and heart. My problem is that I don’t understand how to deal with the insecurities and the fear of rejection.

“As slow as needed.” He tucks some hair behind my ear and holds my head.

I thump my forehead against his chest.

“God, I want to kiss you,” I mumble the words that were supposed to stay inside my head.

“Why don’t you?” He chuckles.

Well, since I already embarrassed myself plenty, I might as well keep going. “Because I feel like I always need your affection. I feel needy and I am afraid that you will find it off-putting,” I tell him, and wait for my shame to drown me.

He pulls away and finds my eyes. “I don’t find it off-putting, and you are not needy. I just try to give you space to heal. I like you around me, and I like it when you make the move to be near.” His voice is low and hoarse.

His eyes hood over, and next thing I know, his lips are on mine. Soft and slow. My eyes shut from the surge of emotions, and I press my palms against his chest. His hands land on my butt, laying over the fabric gently. The light contact sends jolts through my skin, making me crave more.

I lean into him, moving my lips against his. Nothing exists but him and his touch. His hands move higher up my back, always delicately, almost hovering. Aching for more, I arch my chest into his and deepen the kiss. Wildfire burns in my soul, and it is out of control. A groan leaves his lips, and breathlessly, he pulls away.

“Izzy,” he huffs. “Slowly,” he reminds me and presses his lips against mine one more time before pulling away.

He wants me for more than just my body, and I am not needy. My tummy fluttering and my core throbbing, I smile up at him like a fool.

The best places to find information are at bars – that’s where men like to talk – and markets – that’s where women like to talk. I learned that from Jacob on our travels to this little town called Yellow Jacket . Because Jacob has me with him, the market seems to be a more reasonable place; a young couple passing through doesn’t place too much suspicion.

The place is not terribly large, but it is busy. Tables with small tents are set up on the dusty ground with merchants chatting away. It’s exciting to be around people again. Smiling, I peer at what everyone is selling. Most are here with fruits and vegetables from their gardens, filling the area with an array of colors.

“Oh, look!” Beautiful, plump peaches catch my attention.

Wanting to get a closer look, I step towards the stand. Jacob slides his hand around my waist, pressing me snug against himself as he walks in the direction of the fruits. Like always, his proximity is comforting, making my heart skip a beat.

“These look so juicy,” I comment as I pick one up.

“Oh!” A woman pops from the inside of the tent. “Only the best from my orchard!” She eyes us with a wide smile.

“Do you want some?” Jacob leans in to ask me.

“I do.” I eye the fruits. It’s been a while since I had something so fresh. “Can I have that one too?” I point to a big one with a large, red sunspot on it.

“Of course.” The woman chuckles.

Jacob laughs with her and leans over the tray to pick a peach closest to the woman. I pinch my brows, finding the action strange.

“I’m looking for someone who would know Sofia, a Vampire hunter,” Jacob quietly says to the woman, his voice casual and light.

My eyes almost pop out of their sockets. How can he just say something like this to people? I look around us frantically, praying no one heard him and hoping that she does not cause a scene.

“Why?” the woman looks up, her eyes narrowed. “You know she’s trouble.” She turns her gaze to me.

“So I hear. I have no interest in joining her. She has something I need.” Jacob picks up a peach as if they are talking about the weather.

“Look for Caleb. He usually knows of animals like her.” Her face contorts with disgust.

I gasp silently and watch Jacob’s reaction. His jaw twitched at the name given to his mother. She may be an awful person, but she is his mother. He has never met her, but I’m sure he has hopes for something good. My heart breaks for him. He deserves better.

Moving close to him, I slide my hand through his fingers and give it a light squeeze. It isn’t much, but I want him to know that I am here for him.

“Thank you,” he responds. “Do you want some plums too?” He turns his attention to me.

Startled by the casual question, I look up at him. His gaze is so soft that I almost melt into him. With the tenderness though, I do not miss the sadness in his eyes. He is hiding his pain well.

“Yes, please.” I turn to the woman.

“Careful,” the woman says as she collects our fruits. Lifting her eyes, she looks between us. “Sofia is known to be ruthless. You don’t want to lose her,” she throws a glance at me, “over whatever that mad woman has.” She hands us the paper bag.

“Thank you for the warning.” His words sound dismissive, but as we turn to leave, his arm is around my waist again, holding me tighter than usual.

“Are you okay?” I look up at him.

“It’s a little more complicated than I thought it would be,” he responds without looking at me.

“I want to help.” My voice breaks.

I don’t know what I can offer.

“You already are.” He turns his head to me with a weak smile.

I don’t know what it is I am doing, but I want to do more.