Unbound (18 page)

His
hand moved from my leg to my face, where he stroked my cheek lightly. Tracing
my lips with his fingertip, his hand moved slowly over my chin and down my
throat, drawing a deliciously sensitive line that stopped just below my
collarbone.

He
looked at me intensely. “You know the rest.”

It
took some effort to remain focused and I shook my head to clear it. There was
more I needed to know. “But when did you decide?”

One
eyebrow arched questioningly.
 
“Decide what?”

“Decide
not to...”

“Die?”
he suggested, a bleak smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I think there
was always a part of me that doubted I would be able to harm you. With every
additional contact we had, it became less and less likely. It was highly
unorthodox to have become as involved in your life as I did.” He looked
thoughtful. “Perhaps that’s why I continued to be so involved – to remove
any choice I had about going through with the process. When you were an
adolescent it was only at the most superficial level that I perceived you as
Mafte’ach
, but it was the pretence I
needed to stay here with you.”

Was
it strange that my heart was singing with happiness as we spoke about his
intention to kill me? To kill himself? I couldn’t seem to care in that moment.

He
paused and then looked me straight in the eye. “By the time I carried you home
from the dance, I knew I could never hurt you. But I couldn’t leave either. I
spent a lot of time pondering the irony of the situation I found myself in.” He
shook his head. “Before you were born, I’d wanted only to die, but the only way
to keep you alive was to stay that way myself, and I didn’t want to live
without you.” He shrugged. “So, I stayed.
 
And I watched and I waited.
 
And then you took matters into your own hands.”
 
He gave me a contrite half-smile. “And
my choice was made.”

Reaching
for one of his hands, I pulled it towards me, examining it closely. It was
large, his palm slightly calloused, the fingers strong and tapered. They were
musician’s hands, the hands of someone who built and played instruments.

He
tilted his head and looked at me quizzically as if wondering what I was
thinking.

“How
I feel when I’m around you...it’s not just because you’ve protected me in the
past, is it?”

He
shook his head, remorseful. “It’s because you are my key. It’s supposed to help
make the process easier.” He frowned. “More humane.”

“Show
me,” I demanded.

He
shook his head, uncertain.

Stubbornly,
I held his gaze. “Show me,” I said again.

Sighing,
he reached up and touched my cheek. His touch brought a new level of soothing
stillness. I felt near sleep; drowsy, my limbs were heavy, my breath slow and
deliberate. When I opened my mouth to tell him so, I found I couldn’t speak. My
eyes widened in surprise, but not alarm.

He
looked ashamed. “So you wouldn’t be able to argue, or plead. Or scream.” He
avoided my eyes.

Reaching
a slow, heavy hand towards him, I touched his lips and smiled.

“Speak,
Rachel,” his voice was thick.

“How
often?” I asked, clearing my throat. I was curious, not upset.

“Only
a few times,” he admitted and then his eyes widened slightly. “And never, never
when we were – ”

Leaning
in, I kissed him softly.

He
pulled back abruptly. “You’re not angry?”

“No,”
I said. “The way I feel when I’m around you is complicated. Don’t get me wrong,
the peaceful feelings are wonderful, but when you’re with me I feel more than
just calm. I feel safe and hopeful and excited.”

He
hugged me close, relief etched into his features.
 

Now
that we were cleaning out all of the skeletons from our closets, there was
something else I needed to know. “When you left, after that first day in the
park, where did you go?”

He
nodded as if he’d been expecting this. “I went to the Council to renounce my
claim on you as
Mafte’ach
, my
intention to use you as my key.
 
I
went to tell them that I loved you and that I couldn’t bear the thought of
harming you. Or losing you.”

Pressing
my lips together, I tried to hold back the grin that was aching to spread from
ear to ear. That fierce look in his eyes that day had been for me. For me!
But I knew this was serious. From what
Eaden had told me about the restrictions placed on his relationships, I
couldn’t imagine that his disclosure was well-received.
 
“What did they say?”

He
stared past the brick wall of the loft into another place and time. “Formally,
the Council cannot force me to terminate. It’s not unprecedented; there have
been two immortals before me who declined to use their key. Informally,
however, it caused quite a stir.” He arched an eyebrow. “There were some who
were very displeased by my decision.”
  

Given
Eaden’s tendency to minimize any danger to himself, I wondered if displeased
actually meant enraged. “Because you might get sick?” The consequences of his
decision were sinking in. Slowly. My heart picked up the pace again and I tried
to sit up. “I didn’t even think about...Oh God, Eaden. What will happen…”

He
stroked my hair gently, as if soothing a skittish horse. “Easy,
mo cridhe
, easy. I’m fine.” He smiled
softly. “There are a few centuries left for me yet.”

“But...”
I wanted to cry suddenly, understanding more than ever what he had given up for
me. Understanding that selfishly, it was the only decision I wanted him to
make.

He
shook his head slightly, eyes tight. “Please, don’t. This is the way it has to
be.”

Swallowing
over the lump in my throat, I nodded. “Then why were they so against it? I mean,
beyond the danger that you’ll become sick.”
 
Sick?
What I meant was insane.

He
frowned. “Like any powerful organization, there are political factions within
the Council. Those who objected are part of a group that believe that mortals
have become too much of a liability, that they’re too dangerous, too reckless,
too destructive. They believe that it’s time for immortals to step out of the
shadows and take control, before the earth and all its resources are destroyed.
Needless to say, compassion for mortals is not part of their mission
statement,” he added. “When my choice was put to the vote, I was supported by
the majority of the Council. In theory.” Anger flashed across his face. “But I
was foolish to have believed that there would be no trouble.”

He
touched my chin with his fingertip, looking into my eyes. “If I’d had any idea
that I was putting you in jeopardy, I wouldn’t have left your side for a
moment.” He voice was bitter. “That they would use you as pawn for their own
political manoeuvring is indefensible.”

I
nodded absently, listening, but distracted by something Eaden had said earlier.
“Is there only one match for each immortal?”

“Theoretically,
yes. The chances of having a mortal key that matches the genetic structure for
another immortal are infinitesimal.”

“And
can only the matched immortal control how the mortal key feels or what they can
do?”

He
stared at me intently, trying to see where I was headed. “Most definitely
– it has to do with the correspondence of their DNA.”

I
looked down at my hands, thinking hard. My memory of the encounter with Sabas
was patchy; only a few images were clear to me.

“Rachel?
What is it?”

“Hang
on.” I held up my hand and closed my eyes. Slowing my breathing down purposely,
I tried to go backward in time. I had left the library, angry at Eaden for
standing me up. One eye popped open– he still had to explain that
actually.

Focus Rachel
.

Closing
my eyes again, I took myself back to the dark street, the wind churning leaves
and litter into tiny whirling dervishes. As he had approached me from the
shadows, I’d thought he was Eaden because... inhaling deeply, I willed my body
to remember what my mind seemed to be rejecting. It came to me on the exhale.
I’d thought it was Eaden because I’d felt so calm. More than calm, I’d felt
detached. Dead inside. Remembering the inaccessible dread that had hovered
close when I’d tried to run and found I couldn’t, my eyes flew open. Eaden was
staring at me with cautious eyes.

“I
thought Sabas was you.”

“We’re
close in height,” he said carefully. He’d gone still.

“No,
Eaden,” my voice was insistent, rising in alarm. “I thought it was you because
of how I felt before I saw him. I felt disconnected, disinterested. Even though
I knew I should be terrified. I thought of you and tried to run, but I
couldn’t. I could barely move. I couldn’t speak.”

The
terror that I hadn’t been able to feel washed over me. Panic making my mouth
dry. Sabas had been able to do what Eaden could do. Sabas could control me, too.

With
a low oath, Eaden stood abruptly and set me down on the floor. Pulling a cellphone
from his pocket, he began pacing.

Eaden
had a cellphone? All this time, I could have called him on his cell? It was
anachronistic in his hands, a paradox. I almost laughed out loud. After
everything that had happened today, I was surprised by a cellphone.

My
laughter died at the look on Eaden’s face. He barked out a few words I didn’t
understand and then, after a pause, spoke again, his voice more courteous this
time, but the urgency clear. The language he spoke seemed vaguely familiar, but
I couldn’t identify it by name.

Ending
the call, Eaden turned to me. “We have to leave. Now.” Fear had made his voice
cold and hard.

“Leave?”
I repeated, stupidly looking around the room as if the answers were written
somewhere I could see. “Why?”

He
grabbed my hand and starting pulling me towards the door. “I’ll explain in the
car.”

Resisting,
I stared at him in dismay. Why was he yanking me? Where were we going?

“Please,
Rachel. We must go now.” His eyes burned with impatience so fierce, I relented
with a nod. As I started hobbling towards the door, he scooped me up and strode
out of the loft, slamming the door behind us, taking the stairs two at a time.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Eaden
was driving too fast, street lights whipped past us in the darkness.
Thankfully, the roads were almost deserted at this hour. After he had run the
third red light we encountered, I took my eyes off the road entirely, afraid
that the panic building inside me would reach epic proportions. Eaden’s eyes,
on the other hand, were glued there. He started straight ahead, his jaw was
tight, his hands clenched on the steering wheel. He was muttering to himself.

“Eaden?”

He
glanced at me quickly and although he tried to guard his expression, I could
tell he was frightened. And angry. Very angry.

“We’re
in the car now,” I said. “No more secrets, remember?”

He
exhaled and his voice came out like a low growl. “I’ve been blind. I thought
Sabas had been sent to make a point, to encourage me to go through with the
match. I was so distracted by my own fears of how you would react to me, that I
completely overlooked the obvious.” His hand struck the steering wheel,
startling me. “This wasn’t about me at all. Sabas was trying to use you as if
you were his key.”

“But
how? I thought you said there’s only one mortal for every immortal.”

Eaden
shook his head grimly. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t be possible. But as long as
he believes you are his
Mafte’ach
, you’re
not safe. He will try again. He will keep trying.”

Finally
taking his eyes off the road, he turned to look at me. “Sabas has lived a very
long time – much longer than I have. He’s more than ready to die and
he’ll do whatever it takes.” His voice was terse.

My
palms began to sweat as I understood that what Eaden was saying. Sabas was very
dangerous and perhaps already less than sane.

 
“Rachel, I need you to remember as much
as you can about what he did tonight.”

“Okay.
Give me a second.” Trying to slow my racing pulse, I inhaled deeply, but my
panic kept building steadily, threatening my concentration. Picturing Sabas as
he stood before me, his face leering, his lips pressing against my ear, I
shuddered and felt my stomach roil. A full blown panic attack seemed imminent.
Feeling helpless, I turned to Eaden. “I don’t think I can,” I whispered, near
tears with fear and frustration.

He
removed his hand from the steering wheel and rested it squarely on my upper
thigh. Raising an eyebrow, he waited for my consent.

I
nodded.

Instantly,
my panic vanished and, like a thick wool blanket, a sense of calm detachment
settled over me. My racing heart began to slow and my breath came easier. As I
closed my eyes, Sabas stood before me once again – disdainful and
demented. I felt his hand snake down my shirt to rest above my heart, my own
hand pressed into his chest in the same way.