I’d hurt his feelings. As good as he could be at hiding his emotions, he couldn’t hide that. Here he was repeatedly petitioning and being rejected by the Council who held him in such high esteem and I was acting unappreciative. “Of course it’s a start.” I tilted his face back towards me. “It’s a great start. Any progress with the Council is a victory.” I decided to stop letting my vocal chords demonstrate my gratitude and let my lips pick up right where my words left off.
“Thank you,” I whispered after pulling my lips from his.
“No, no. Thank you,” he said, running his fingers up my back. “However, I think I deserve a bit more thankfulness,”—I eyed him and he eyed me right back—“all things considered.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I teased. “But let’s find something to do to fill the time while I consider.” I wasn’t sure if I initiated it or he did, but either way, neither one of us would be ending it anytime soon. His fingers knotted into my hair, crushing my mouth harder into his, and his body pulsed heat in such a way it made the fear of what could happen to us if we let one thing lead to another fade to near invisibility.
“Good evening.”
My lips turned to ice over William’s when I recognized the voice behind us and its anything but ambivalent tone.
William’s shoulders stiffened. “Father, what can we do for you this evening?”
Barely a whisper, I asked, “How did he find us?”
“He hasn’t told you?” Charles answered my all-but-silent question before William could. “My gift happens to be the ability to locate any Immortal anywhere in the world. A gift that comes in handy when you’re searching for a delinquent son.”
Mortified Charles had found the two of us so engaged, I attempted to remove myself from William’s vice-like hold. It only tightened the more I tried, so I succumbed, but I wasn’t able to look Charles in the face.
Now, Charles was no fool and I’m sure he knew more than William or I would have liked about our secret meetings and forbidden embraces, but this was the first time he’d ever caught us with our lips locked and I wasn’t sure how he’d respond.
“The Council came to a decision tonight regarding the request you made this morning,” Charles broke the fragile silence. “A final decision.”
“And what was your decision, Father?” William asked, trying to keep his voice level.
I chanced a glimpse at Charles. His face was tilted down, looking almost sad, but when he looked up at us, there was no emotion written on his face. “Your request is denied.”
The words fell like a window, shattering through me. My fingers curled deeper into William’s flesh, as if fearing Charles would rip him away from me.
A spasm ran up William’s back, branching into his chest and arms until his whole body was quaking. His jaw was locked and I was speechless, so neither of us responded. But really, what could we say? We’d just been told—for a grand total of four times—that our request for a Unity was denied. There was no negotiating around it; the Council’s decision was law. Our silence lengthened.
“An emergency has come up down south and you’re needed there immediately,” Charles directed at William, somehow spiraling my nightmare a level deeper. “You leave first thing in the morning.”
I hadn’t noticed the leather book in his hands until he rested it on the blanket William had laid out for us. Although I’m certain William hadn’t had reading on his mind when he’d spread it out. “I thought you might want to take this along for some light reading since you could be gone for quite a while this time. I’ve bookmarked a couple areas you might find compelling,” he said, turning to leave.
All signs of lightheartedness had drained from the man clutching me to him, still quivering in anger. It never ceased to amaze me how life could change in an instant; how one moment could be euphoric and the next could be devastating.
This wasn’t a time to delve into life’s philosophies, though. The trembling diminishing, his body went rigid and for the first time, his body felt cold against mine. Unable to think of anything other than easing whatever torment ailed him now, I attempted to lighten the mood. “You were saying what about cranky, old men stuck in their ways?”
His face remained unchanged, confirming my attempts to lighten anything failed miserably.
“Okay, say something—please,” I begged. “Because I’m not used to being the calm one and I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do or say next.” I slid the wet tuft of hair over his forehead to the side.
“Do I sound as miserably unconvincing when I try to cheer you up?” He looked at me and I could tell from experience he was doing his best to hide what he was really feeling.
“You’re much better actually,” I assured. “But you’ve got a bit more experience.”
“Just a bit,” he said, drawing me into an embrace that felt more desperate than passionate . . . more fleeting than welcoming, like he was saying goodbye—the forever kind. “You know how much I love you.”
It wasn’t a question, but I felt the need to respond. “Of course I do.” How could I ever doubt his love for me with the history of life threatening circumstances we’d encountered? How could I doubt his faithfulness to me when he’d spent a couple centuries searching for me? Did it make sense for him to love me? No. Did I deserve his love? Most definitely not. But did I doubt his love for me, misplaced as it may have been? Never once.