Escape (10 page)

            Amelia sat back on her heels and stared warily at Connor’s lips, wondering if that was completely necessary. Without air, he could die. It was not only necessary, but it was her only option.

            With shaky hands, Amelia tilted Connor’s chin up, clearing his windpipe. She opened his mouth just barely. Amelia leaned down, their faces so close and his potent fragrance enveloping her. She braced herself and their lips touched. His lips were soft and smooth, but salty from the river water. If this could be counted as a kiss, this was Amelia’s first.

            Amelia breathed air into Connor’s lungs, and then disconnected to compress her palm five more times against his diaphragm. When it came time to give join lips again, Amelia didn’t hesitate. She leaned down once more and blew into him.  

            This time, she was unable to pull back. Connor’s hand wrapped itself around the nape of Amelia’s neck, keeping her lips pressed against his. Amelia’s eyes popped open with alarm as Connor’s lips caressed hers. His kiss was soothing and yet with a passionate fury that she melted into him for a reckless moment. The familiar ache in her gut rose to an almost unbearable magnitude. She closed her eyes, letting them roll beneath her lids.

            In that moment, Amelia forgot where they were. She forgot everything. Connor’s other arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her down onto him, caught against his drenched body. She could feel every rigid muscle underneath his shirt and her mind nearly drowned in the frenzy of it all.

            But in the haze, her mind was still able to think. And something occurred to her. He was kissing her. He initiated it. He was not unconscious anymore. Was he playing dead the whole time?

            Amelia pushed hard against his chest to force herself away. Her whole world was spinning, but those thoughts sobered her enough.

            When she sat up again, she panted for breath and slapped Connor. His own eyes flew open and he rubbed the cheek she had slapped.

            “What was that for?” he asked, as if nothing was wrong.

            “You kissed me, you pig!” Amelia cried out, standing up to leave, taking the lasso and wrapping it around one of her shoulders. She thought it might come in handy for later.

            Connor blinked and quickly got up to follow her with a stagger, still trying to recover from almost drowning and shaking the excess water out of his clothes. “I thought you were the siren!” That wasn’t the whole truth. “And besides, weren’t you kissing me first?”

            Amelia turned back to him. It was her turn to be furious. “I was giving you CPR! That’s not the same as kissing!” Amelia marched back onto the bridge to retrieve the box.  

            Connor caught up with her as she stepped back onto the path. “What’s CPR?”

            “I thought you had drown so I was trying to get you to breathe again, but you were conscious the whole time, weren’t you?”

            Connor’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know. Maybe?” He whipped his sopping shirt up over his head and wrung it out.

            Amelia turned and saw his naked torso in all its masculine glory. She didn’t know such muscles even existed in real life, only in photo-shopped magazine pictures of actors or models. She paused, finding her legs didn’t want to move and her eyes wouldn’t deviate.

            Connor looked up and smirked. “What, you want another kiss?” he teased, offering out his arms to display his entire body to her. Amelia’s eyes roamed sinfully over his tanned, bare skin.

            Getting a hold of what was left of her sanity, she shook her head sharply and turned away. “You are such an immature jerk! You know that?” Amelia held her head high and continued walking down the path, leaving him behind.

            “No, actually, I didn’t. Thanks for informing me,” Connor said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and shaking his sodden feet as he followed her to let the rest of the water drip out of his shoes. 

 
          Connor was thoroughly dry after another few hours of walking and had donned his shirt once more, despite its slight dampness. He let Amelia walk ahead, feeling the irritation bellow out of her like an overworked smokestack. He could understand her frustration, but it was well worth it.

            He could still taste her lips, so sweet and silky against his own. He was only half conscious when she tried to revive him. He knew well what he had done. He couldn’t help himself. He acted upon a bizarre impulse that he had never felt before. Not even with Esmeralda. When he kissed Amelia, he felt a rush of bliss. Shockwaves gushed through every nerve in his body. He didn’t want it to end.

            Connor knew that Amelia felt the same way. Their bodies shared that surge of desire, but why did she deny him? Why did she pull away? Was she refusing her own need for him or did she even know what was forming between them? Connor hardly knew what it was either, but he knew something was there.

            “Are you going to give me the silent treatment all the way to the bay?” he asked, coming up beside her.

            He watched her eyes glance in his direction and then quickened her pace.

            He kept up, never leaving her side. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

            When he looked down to her neck, he saw that the scratches he had made earlier in their journey hadn’t healed yet. He sorely regretted what he had done to her. He had wanted to scare her, but that was back when he didn’t care. He still couldn’t fathom why he cared at all to begin with.

            That moment seemed eons ago. Flagler seemed even longer ago. He remembered the foggy rage, the hate, the numbness of those days, but now it was as if a refreshing breeze had washed the haze away. He could see and feel more lucidly. His hard heart had yet to soften completely, but he blamed his condition for that. He knew the curse of his poor decisions could never be reversed.

            “Does that still hurt?” he asked as he reached his hand out to brush away her golden hair from her injured neck.

            Amelia spun and struck his hand away before he could touch her cuts. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

            Connor quickly withdrew his hand and they stopped on the path. Her eyes blazed with a fire of indignation and her lips pursed to keep herself from uttering more hateful words. He held up his hands in surrender. He could feel her rage, but underneath it was a shard of fear. She didn’t show it in her face, but he could still see it just as clearly as if it were written on her forehead. He wondered what she possibly could be afraid of now. He hadn’t been aggressive towards her recently. He was trying desperately to make up for his cruelty, though he wasn’t sure why.

            “I was just checking the scratches on your neck.”

            “Yes, they still hurt a little. Don’t touch them.” Amelia took a few more steps down the path, turning away from Connor, but he intercepted before she could go much further. He stepped in her way, his hands still raised in front of him like he were approaching a wild animal.

            “Let me help.” It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t a demand, but a plea. He knew that taking away this little pain wouldn’t make everything right between them, but it was a start.  

            Amelia’s hard countenance softened a bit and she pulled her hair out of the way to reveal the four gashes in the side of her neck. He was surprised to see they did not bleed as much as he was intending. They had crusted over nicely.

            Connor cautiously stepped closer, making no sudden moves. He feared her wrath almost as much as she must have feared his. He edged his hand closer to her slender neck. The image flashed in his mind when he had ran his tongue over her wounds, treasuring the taste of her blood. He paused and shivered, feeling the demonic hunger for it again.

            He balled his outstretched hand into a fist and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the craving. Now he knew what Esmeralda must have suffered some days. Amelia stepped back nervously. Connor shook his head sharply and looked at her with the red demon eyes that she dreaded.

            Amelia covered her neck, but Connor took another wary step forward.

            “No, no, I’m sorry,” he whispered hastily, still struggling to gain control again. He caught a glimpse of his hand and saw his claws had involuntarily grew as his demonic instincts drove his body someplace he didn’t wish to go. When he had changed back earlier in their journey, it was as if he had opened a locked box that refused to close. The urge to reveal his demonic self was too strong. In all his centuries, he never hated himself so much as he did right now. To see the fear and hatred in her eyes, it was too much.

            A new emotion engulfed him. It was sadness. If he hadn’t tried to absorb so much of it from her, he might not have known what it was that he felt. His face wrinkled in momentary agony. Pity flickered in her eyes and he could stand no more. That was the last thing he wanted was her pity.

            Connor took a shaky breath and turned away, still trying to force the beast back into hiding. He couldn’t decide if he should keep walking down the path or run away in shame into the woods. His stood there, feet fixed upon the ground.

            He heard Amelia’s footfalls as she drew closer to him. He crossed his arms to conceal his clawed hands and averted his hurt gaze from her. Her hand ever so gently fell upon his bicep. Her touch sent pleasant shudders over his skin.

            Their eyes met as Amelia pulled away her hair from her neck, exposing her scratches for him again. He could see his reflection in her eyes and the glowing red orbs that stared back at him. But not only that, he could see the trust she willing gave him in that moment. There was still fear in her heart, but she trusted him anyway.

            Connor unfolded his arms and raised his hand once more, willing it to glow like it had before. He was careful to not let the claws touch her fragile human skin as he retraced the cuts with his fingertips. She hissed at the stinging pain, but it was short-lived as the red lines disappeared from her neck. She trembled at the tender stroke of his fingers. It was almost enough to make him lose his mind.

            Within a second, they manifested on his own neck. He felt the searing of the wounds, as if they were freshly sliced into his skin. He stiffened his jaw and waited for it to pass. Amelia’s eyes went wide with wonder as she saw the scratches appear, and then quickly heal over like they were never there at all.

            “What did you do?” she asked, reaching up to touch the spot where the cuts had been. Connor gripped her wrist and eased it back. His nerves couldn’t handle more of her caresses. Amelia gasped, alarmed at the suddenness of his grip.

            Connor could feel her blood race beneath her skin and quickly dropped her hand before he lost control completely.

            “What is it that you do when you touch me like that?” she asked as she felt her once injured neck, finding no wounds.

            Connor didn’t know what she felt, but he knew all too well what he felt. But, he knew that wasn’t what she was asking about. “I’m feeding on your pain.”

            “So, it’s not like healing?”

            “It’s similar. When you’re frightened, sad or angry, I feed off of your emotions. It’s what demons do. When you’re physically hurt, I can absorb that pain into my own body to enjoy the sensations it brings.”

            “Isn’t that a little masochistic?” she asked as they slowly continued along the path.

            Now that the temptation had passed, Connor’s eyes and nails had returned to normal. Or, at least, what he was masking as normal. “In a way, yes.”

            “So, when my legs hurt, you massaged them and absorbed the pain?”

            “And I felt your pain in my own legs.”

            Amelia’s gaze fell off into the distance as she was connecting the dots. Connor watched her, entranced beyond understanding by this human who could affect him so. “I know you must have been hoping for something a little more heroic than that.”

            “No, it makes sense.” Amelia shrugged. “I just never thought that was something demons could do.”

            “Most don’t do it to such an extent. It’s like ingesting a strong drink. Most demons simply sip off of the pain, the hurt, so that the victim is still left with the pain, but they can be satisfied at the same time.”

            “What happens if they take too much?”

            “They can take it away completely like I have with you and take the pain upon themselves. In extreme cases, they can become high and pass out. But we can heal extraordinarily fast to accommodate this lust for pain.”

            Amelia laughed softly. “Lust? That’s a weird way to describe it.”

            “But that’s exactly what it is. It’s a hunger that consumes us. We crave it all the time.” Connor hated to lump himself in with the other demons he knew that were far worse than him, but he couldn’t deny the desire he felt every day.

            “What about you? Do you lust for it?”

            Their eyes met and an unspoken answer was exchanged. But, Amelia didn’t shrink back. They both stopped and Connor felt a different pull this time. It wasn’t the hunger for her suffering. It was something else entirely.

            He gradually closed the gap between them. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice was hushed to sooth her.

            “I know.” He heard her heart race and heard her breath quicken. She felt it too. He drank it in, letting it fill his every sense.

            But something else reached his senses. Connor’s head snapped up and he sniffed the air, straining his ears to listen. Amelia looked around hastily.

            “What is it?”

            Connor shushed her and searched the trees. He hated how thick they were with leaves. They made it so much harder to spot danger off the path. He knew this smell, but only vaguely. It reeked of self-righteous vigor.

            “Elves,” he muttered.

            A rustling came from behind Amelia. He quickly grabbed her and shoved her behind him just as he caught a glimpse of something round and white hurl through the air.

            Before he could shield his eyes, the ball exploded with a light so blinding that Connor roared at the intensity of it. His eyes were open, but he could no longer see anything. He fell to the ground as his ears began to ring with a shrill note that he couldn’t block out. His stomach churned with a violent nausea as vertigo set in. His equilibrium shattered and he couldn’t tell which way was up or down. He rubbed furiously at his eyes as if it would help wipe the blindness away.

            He could see nothing, hear nothing. He was useless except for his nose.

            The elves swarmed in suddenly, all around them. Connor reached out a hand to where he though Amelia had fallen. He felt her fingers slide against his, but when he groped out for her again, she wasn’t there.

            “Amelia!” he shouted as loud as he could, even though he couldn’t hear himself say her name. Her scent was fading, leaving with the elves. He roared in anger and tried to crawl across the ground. Be only managed to lose his balance and fall onto his side. He cussed fervently, but nothing would do any good.

            A sound pierced through the noise, resonating in his mind. It was faint at first, but as he recovered from the flash bomb, he could hear it more clearly. It was her voice calling out to him, begging him for help.

            He tried once more in vain to sit up, but fell over again in a heap upon the ground. He growled and snarled at his weakness and then let out a roar as hatred and anger devoured him once again.

            Amelia awoke, head pounding and feeling dazed. Her eyes cracked open to take in her surroundings. Through the haze of weariness, she could tell she was in a cabin of some sort, made completely of wood and only a few furnishings. The room was no bigger than her bedroom back home.

            As her senses came to her, she knew that she was bound at her feet and hands, sitting upon a stool that was pushed up against the wall. Across from her was a doorway, just barely cracked open to allow moonlight to slant in from outside.

            Glimpsing further past the door, she saw that she wasn’t level with the ground at all. This room was high in the treetops somewhere. Her eyes wandered around the room, trying to make out the silhouette of anything or anyone else she might recognize.

            “Connor?” she called into the darkness, hoping that he was there. The last thing she remembered was when their ambushers carried her off. She remembered feeling the box ripped from her grasp and the last fleeting touch of Connor’s hand against hers. Some bright light had temporarily blinded her and all she could hear was a high-pitched ring in her ears that debilitated her so much she had passed out.

            She heard no reply to her call and looked harder, squinting into the shadows from her stool. She saw the vague outline of the box. It was unmistakable. At least they hadn’t taken it. Yet.

            Soon, the door swung open to admit her captor into the room. It was a tall man, covered in wooden and leather armor, tied together with cords of hemp. He must have been a warrior. She could see a sheathed dagger dangling by his waist. His head was covered in long white hair that was tied back by a leather strap, and on either side of his head, Amelia could make out long, pointed ears. His face possessed sharp features, but it was his eyes that struck her most. They were a pale blue, paler than the clear spring sky she loved so much back home. But these eyes were anything but lovable. They were harsh and fierce. His gaze was sharper than the dagger strapped to his belt.

            Amelia heard Connor mutter something about elves before they were attacked. This must have been one. She had thought elves were short, like dwarves, but these looked to be at least a head or two taller than herself.

            The towering man stepped forward and allowed more light to pour in through the doorway. She looked down to confirm that what she had seen earlier was indeed her box, then turned her unwavering attention back to the elf coming closer to her stool.