Forbidden Forest Page 11

Regia’s sun was less than an hour from dawning over the horizon. After their little altercation, Forest and Syrus walked at a brisk pace, without stopping, and in total silence. They made good time and would arrive at Forest’s house before the sun broke. When they came close to the remnant town of Anue, she led them off the road, onto back trails. It took longer, and the ground was rough, but there was too great a chance of being spotted on the road now.

  Forest wrestled with her emotions. Syrus hadn’t really done anything to her. He’d wanted to, but he stopped himself. If only Leith had ever stopped himself, her life would look very different. Syrus was used to having everything he wanted the moment he wanted it. She was a warrior not a whore! He shouldn’t have forgotten that. But she had started it. Around and around her thoughts went.

  She turned and looked at him. Throughout the last few hours when she had observed him, she could see his self-loathing. Now it was obvious he was pouting. She almost giggled—almost.

  The tall stone wall encapsulating her land was visible through the trees ahead. Magic and the overgrown foliage around it protected her property. Forest stopped and turned to face Syrus. Just as it had been when she had first laid eyes on him, her whole body seemed to clamp down defensively.

  Syrus stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows lifted quizzically. His shoulders tensed as though he thought she might attack him.

  “All right,” Forest huffed. “We’re almost there.”

  “So why are we stopping?”

  “Because we need to talk about what happened earlier.”

  His expression looked like he had just bit into a lemon.

  “How would it be …if …let’s just …forget about it.”

  Syrus’ mouth fell open in shock. Then he smiled, as if the sun was shining out of his face. Forest looked away from him angrily. Why did she have to find him so appealing? Why did he look as innocent as a child when he smiled? How could anyone of his age have moments that were totally guileless?

  “Thank you, Forest.”

  She had never been thanked with more feeling or sincerity, and Forest found it disarming. She began walking again, more out of self-preservation than urgency. “It was necessary for us to call some kind of truce.” She did her best to sound flippant. “The protections on my property prohibit anyone inside that I consider an enemy.”

  Syrus was amazed that she would tell such an outrageous lie. That type of magic was not only rare, it would have been impossible for someone of Forest’s standing to afford. And personally tailored enchantments, like she described, were almost unheard of. He was about to tell her that he was not even close to being such a fool to believe such a whopper, but just as the words were about to tumble from his mouth, he decide not to start another fight. He would wait and see what other lies she told, and he could make a game of trapping her in her own web. That could prove fun.

  “You must have a lot of enemies, Forest,” Syrus said jovially. “Just who are you trying to keep out?”

  “Mostly those of your ilk.”

  They reached the outer parameter of Forest’s land. Syrus could feel the immensity of the wall and couldn’t help but be impressed with its size. The creeping vines that grew over the door, hiding it completely, moved aside when Forest touched them. She passed through without hesitation. Syrus would have moved more slowly had he known that she hadn’t been lying a moment ago.

  The enchantment held Syrus on the gate’s threshold. He couldn’t move. The magic passed through his body like a ghost blade, before releasing him. The door shut behind him, and the vines crept back into place. Winded and astonished, Syrus had only ever felt such a personally tailored spell in the vampire castle. It made sense for a spell like that to be there, and in the Fortress castle, but on the private property of an illegitimate Halfling, it was absurd!

  “I thought you were lying!” he exclaimed loudly. “How is it possible that you could have such an enchantment? Are you a wizard’s mistress in your spare time?”

  Syrus started as a loud beeping filled the air.

  “It's all right… Just a moment…I have to turn off my security system.”

  He listened to her walk away, and a moment later the beeping stopped. Syrus stood still, afraid to move, in case there were other security measures waiting to snare him.

  Forest laughed as she walked back to him. “It’s all right now. You can relax. I don’t have any tripwires or landmines.”

  “What was that noise?” he asked, still tense.

  “My security system is a …ah …human thing.” Forest was nervous about how he would respond to all of her illegal human devices and paraphernalia.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, humans put them in their houses and then if someone breaks in to hurt them or steal things, this loud noise sounds, and the police are called. I’m obviously not trying to alert the human authorities—” she gave a nervous little giggle “—but if someone was able to get through my outer barrier, I would know it when the security system began sounding.”

  “Uh huh,” Syrus muttered, his face totally stoic.

  Forest waited for him to have some kind of reaction. The moment dragged. He set his pack gently on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. Then he laughed, catching Forest off-guard.

  “You have a lot of illegal human relics here, don’t you, Forest?” he chortled.

  “Yes. I do. In fact, ‘a lot’ might not cover it. I guess it’s better that you know before you come inside the house.”

  “You’re a smuggler!” Syrus laughed enthusiastically. “This is great! I don’t know much about Earth and not only can you teach me, you have lots of human stuff I can try.”

  Forest narrowed her eyes and tucked her tongue in her cheek. He wanted to play with her stuff, did he? Well she had more than enough to keep him occupied over the next few days. It was the perfect way to avoid him while they were stuck here together.

  “Pick up your pack and follow me inside,” she ordered.

  “First tell me how you came to acquire your protective enchantments.”

  She huffed, feeling her exhaustion, and decided to spit the story out with as little embellishment as possible. “A few years back, a wizard was rumored to be traveling through the town we circumvented on our way here. An associate of mine promised to tell me when, and if, the wizard passed through. Once I received word, I set out on the road to see if I could locate said wizard. I found him easily enough and offered him a drink and a place to rest from his travels for a while. He was tired and conceded to spend an afternoon at my cottage. As soon as I had him comfortable, I presented him with an offer he couldn’t refuse. That’s all. We made the exchange, so to speak, and he went on his way.”

  “So you have been a wizard’s mistress,” Syrus said with self-satisfaction.

  Before Syrus could bat an eye, she pulled her sword on him. The tip hovered half an inch under his chin, and his flesh began to constrict away from the silver blade.

  “I am a warrior, not a whore!” she shouted. Her vision blurred, and her body shook with rage. “I paid him in human goods, not with my body!”

  Syrus didn’t dare move even a fraction. He'd confronted real danger before, and he recognized her threat was legitimate. He'd spoken without thinking and had meant only to tease her, but she was way over reacting. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not even to mutter an apology. So he did the only thing he could think of to show her respect. He took one slow step backward and lowered himself onto his knees.

  Forest’s mouth fell open, the rage draining away into shock. The shock doused the fire in her head with cold water, and her vision cleared. She looked at her sword, held ready to kill as though it were not her hand holding it but a stranger’s. The future king of Regia had humbled himself before her in order to win her pardon for the offense. It was not even a great offense given that he was royalty. He had the right to say anything he wanted to her. But he had recognized that she was on the very edge of killing him. She had to give him credi
t; he was clever. Nothing he could have said at that moment would have eased her rage, so he shocked her out of her homicidal intentions instead.

  Forest pulled her sword away and sheathed it, feeling embarrassed and idiotic. She picked up his pack and slung it over her shoulder. Kindel had said that she brought out the worst in people. Now she was thinking she had possibly met someone who brought out the worst in her.

  “The house is this way.” Her voice was rather weak.

  Syrus stood up and followed her without reply. It was a difficult moment to recover from for both of them. He gave himself a stern mental warning to watch what he said to her from now on, and to remember that he didn’t know much about her at all.

  Forest’s house was a small stone cottage; reminiscent of the one Snow White found full of dwarves. It was set in the back of her property with her garden stretching out around it in all directions. Regardless of the circumstance, Forest was happy to be home. Nothing she owned gave her a stronger feeling of pride than her house. During her absence, entropy had grabbed ahold of her garden. She'd deal with the overgrowth and bracken after cleaning the leaves from the fountain. If Syrus would stay inside playing with her many human toys for the next few days, she could work in her garden in peace.

  Syrus’ senses piqued as he followed her. He was trying to map his surroundings. He would have to come back to the garden later and walk the perimeter to get a better sense of the space. As it was, he was exhausted, and in a terrific, but tenuous, mood. Forest was proving to be more interesting than he had originally anticipated. He certainly wouldn’t ever imply again that she used her sexuality as currency, ever. Since that obviously had struck a nerve, he began to speculate why.

  As they approached the front door, all Forest wanted was to get inside, go into her room, and shut the door behind her. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She wanted him to leave her alone. It wasn’t fair that she was the one to have to house, entertain, and protect the most important vampire alive. She didn’t want him in her house. It was her place of peaceful solitude. A place with no bad memories. She was sure Syrus would think it was a hovel.

  “Watch your head,” Forest said.

  Syrus had to duck as he came through the door. His head spun with all the unfamiliar scents. Her house was full of human materials: paper, fabrics, plastic, metals, and even food. At first, the sounds of her appliances humming seemed loud and annoying, especially the refrigerator.

  “You have human machines!” he said enthusiastically. “How do you get them to work here?”

  “That was part of the deal with the wizard. All of my appliances and electronics work and I don’t even have to pay the utility company. The batteries in my flashlights and MP3 player never die, either.”

  Syrus didn’t know what flashlights or utility companies were, but he was dying to find out.

  “Uh…if you don’t mind me asking…” he began demurely.

  “What I paid the wizard?” she said rather aggressively.

  “Yes.”

  Forest sighed. “It was extremely cheap, really. Well, it was cheap for someone who has access to Earth. I gave him a 27-inch high definition TV and a Nintendo Wii. Well, that was the original price of our agreement but I could tell he was feeling a little cheated after the amount of effort he had to put into securing my entire property, so I threw in the special Necronomican edition Army of Darkness Blu-ray. He left, the happiest wizard you’ve ever seen.”

  Forest could tell Syrus didn’t understand half of what she was talking about and that he was about to launch into a game of twenty questions, or one hundred and twenty questions. She just didn’t think she had the energy for it.

  “Would you like me to put your bottles in the kitchen?” she asked, still holding his pack. “If you want them cold, I can make room in the fridge.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Syrus could feel her desire to get away from him. “Follow me.”

  Forest showed him where the kitchen was, and she couldn’t escape without giving him a small explanation of the refrigerator. He found everything around him fascinating, even the feel of the linoleum under his feet. She led him to the spare room where she hoped he would stay throughout the time they had to kill. Syrus looked completely out of place for a number of reasons. He was so tall and broad that Forest hadn’t realized how small the room really was, until now. The room was also rather girly, like it might have belonged to a human teenager. Forest was glad he couldn’t see it. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer posters would have surely offended him.

  “Do you need anything else?” Forest tried to remember how to be hospitable, not that she’d ever really known.

  “No,” he said with a hint of dejection.

  Syrus sat down on the edge of the bed, his back stiff and his face blank. Forest could tell something was wrong with his mood. She felt a pang of guilt. What was she supposed to do? Her job was to keep him alive. She was doing that.

  Forest turned and left, closing the door behind her. She went to the kitchen and turned on the oven, intending to make a frozen pizza for herself. She mopped the floor while she waited and took account of what was in her pantry. She needed more Oreos.

  Later, when she plopped onto her couch, remote in hand, intending to watch a movie, her eyes drifted to the door of the spare room. It had been an hour since she had left Syrus, and there had not been one noise from inside. She knew he probably wasn’t sleeping. She only needed about half as much sleep as a human and Syrus only needed roughly a third. She imagined him still sitting on the edge of the bed, immobile as stone. The longer she looked at the door, the stronger her sense grew of what was behind it. In the silence, a storm of emotions raged in her spare room, as if she had bottled a hurricane in there.

  Forest shook herself and tried to focus her attention on the movie. Her eyes stuck to the screen but her mind was on Syrus. Why did she feel guilty? She hadn’t locked him in there.

  No, but she had made it plain that she wanted to be alone. Well, she did want to be alone. What was wrong with that? Wake up stupid! She told herself. He’s blind in unfamiliar surroundings. You may as well have locked him in that room.

  Forest sighed and turned the TV off. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began drafting an email to Kindel, telling him that they had arrived safely at her cottage. Then she stood up and walked to the door of the spare room. She hesitated, listening. Maybe she shouldn’t bother him. Maybe he was asleep. He could be; she didn’t know his schedule.

  Syrus hadn’t moved an inch since she’d left him. He had meditated for a while, but her presence just outside the door was distracting him. He waited, expecting her to either knock or go away, but she didn’t. She just stood there.

  Forest wrestled with whether or not she should knock. If he was asleep, he wouldn’t want to be disturbed. But what if he was awake and bored? She thought about how he had been so happy a few hours ago because he said he wasn’t bored. Her heart gave a little lurch as she remembered how he looked when he smiled.

  She started in reaction to her own thoughts, and the anger inside her that was always ready to kill came to the surface. The only thing he needed was sustenance, and she had shown him where the kitchen was. It was not her job to entertain him. If he was bored, at least he was used to it.

  She stalked away from his room and went out the front door, slamming it behind her.

  Forest spent the next hour outside, stewing internally. She weeded and harvested her veggie garden, but at that location, she could easily look through the window and see Syrus sitting on the bed, so she moved away and began working on getting the fountain running again. She got through a few basic tasks but there was so much to do because she’d been gone for so long. Finally, she felt so guilty that she couldn’t stop herself from going back inside.

  She took her harvested veggies to the kitchen then went straight to the spare room and knocked.

  “Come in,” Syrus said just loudly enough to be heard through the door.

&n
bsp; She opened the door. He had turned his face toward her, and she grimaced as her eyes stung again. “Uh…Are you…okay?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said flatly, standing up.

  “Are you bored?” Her voice was apologetic.

  He smiled at her, and again she was amazed at how innocent he seemed. Innocent and gorgeous.

  “I wouldn’t say I was bored. I’m extremely frustrated, though. I have so many questions about Earth and all this stuff you have, but I understand that I’m the intruder and you are used to solitude. I know you don’t want me here. I don’t particularly want to be here…” he paused. “I don’t mean your house when I say ‘here.’ I mean the situation. I actually find your house wonderful and fascinating. The fascination is driving me mad though. Just the smells in here alone—I want to know what they are, but I’ve been sitting still and meditating so I wouldn’t give in to temptation and start poking around. I’m trying to respect your space and your things.” He paused again, looking like he was groping for the right words. “I don’t know the rules.”

  Forest laughed. “The rules?”

  “Yes, the rules of your house.”

  Forest continued to chuckle. “Okay, Syrus, here are the rules: Don’t go in my room. Don’t touch my weapons, and don’t eat the cookies in the pantry. Aside from that, you can do as you like, except leave the property.”

  “I should have no problem adhering to your rules,” he said formally.

  Forest laughed again. “Good. Maybe we can refrain from offending each other anymore for the duration of the mission.”

  Syrus smiled but this time his smile was seductively impish. “That is wishful thinking.”

  Forest’s mouth fell open. “Yes, well…umm…I was going to watch a movie. Would you like to join me?”

  Syrus’ impish smile switched back to the excited childlike one. “What is a movie?”

  “It’s like watching a story rather than listening to one.”

  Syrus’ smile slipped. “What a terrible joke, and unworthy of you, Forest.”

  It only took her a second to realize what he meant. “No. I didn’t mean it as a joke. I swear. If I chose a movie that was just mostly about relationships, I’m sure you could follow it. The characters just talk back and forth.” She said all this quickly, hoping he would realize she hadn’t meant to be mean. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to. But I didn’t mean it as a joke, really.”

  “All right,” he said quietly. “I’ll give it a try if you promise not be put out at me if I need to ask a few questions along the way.”

  “Oh. Sure. No problem.”

  He followed her to the living room and sat down on the couch. Forest looked through her DVD collection trying to find a movie that was slow. She settled on a Jane Austen adaptation. Surely, he could follow that; it was almost all conversations, and voice-over narration. She could feel his excitement rising again as the movie started.

  After a few minutes, Syrus began enjoying the movie and could imagine how great it would be to watch movies once his sight was restored. He listened to the various characters as their relationships developed and they began to have problems. He was able to follow the storyline but as he became engrossed, he forgot yet again to stifle his nose, and Forest was sitting on the same couch.

  She smelled so good to him and it had been a long time since he’d had a drink. The idea of going for one of his cold bottles, while her scent was in his lungs, was repugnant. I want it! I want it! I want it! Was all he could think of and better judgment gave way to desire.

  Syrus leaned back into the couch and angled his body towards her. Forest was avidly watching the movie and didn’t notice.

  “Forest?”

  “Yeah?” she answered absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off the screen.

  “I’m thirsty,” he said in a half whisper.

  “Oh. Me too.” Forest paused the movie and headed to the kitchen. “I’m going to have water. Do you want some or would you like one of your bottles?” she asked loudly from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, I want some.” His voice was thick with innuendo she didn’t catch.

  Forest filled two tall glasses with Regian water and came back to the living room, a glass in each hand. She set his on the coffee table in front of him. “Your water is here,” she said reaching for his hand to guide it to the glass.

  Syrus swiftly took hold of her forearm. Caught off guard, Forest stumbled toward him, almost falling on him. He brought her wrist close to his face and inhaled deeply. “This is what I want,” he whispered. “May I?” his breath fell across her wrist as he moved his mouth closer.

  Forest's hand tightened around her glass and she reacted without thinking. The freezing cold water splashed over his head and shoulders Syrus jumped and spluttered in shock. Forest skipped back as Syrus sprang to his feet, snarling at her. The next second he bent over, coughing thickly. He had gasped when she doused him and had aspirated some of the water into his lungs. By the time he was able to stop coughing, Forest was laughing uproariously. Forest’s laugh was loud and throaty and Syrus found it infectious. He too began to laugh.

  “Well, that’ll teach you,” Forest chortled.

  He snorted, feeling just how wet he really was. “You could have just said no.”

  “I could have, but I made my point so much more effectively with the water, don’t you think?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically. “You made your point clear. My clothes will be wet till tomorrow night.” Regian water didn’t evaporate as quickly as Earth’s. “Where did you put my pack? I need my spare clothes.”

  Forest looked at him, speculating. She’d seen the clothes he’d brought in his pack when she’d put his bottles in the fridge, and she thought this was a good time to bring up her concerns about his appearance.

  “You know, Syrus, you have the obvious look of royalty and at the very least, nobility.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s not a compliment.”

  Syrus’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

  “I think we should consider how to disguise you better, especially once we leave here. Would you consider trying human clothes?” she asked.

  “Do you have any that will fit me?”

  “Sure. Follow me to the basement.”

  Forest’s basement was so full of various human things that it resembled a consignment shop. She went to her clothing stores and began rummaging for what she thought Syrus should wear. She thought it was rather funny that he was standing behind her waiting to be her dress up doll.

  “Here.” She thrust a pair of jeans and a grey button-up shirt at him.

  He pawed at the garments for a moment, seeing what they were with his hands. Then he pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor. Forest took in the sight of his bare chest, her brain going a little foggy. She blinked when she realized that he was about to pull off his trousers too. “Whoa!” she hollered.

  “What?” his voice was alarmed.

  “Don’t you have any decency?” she demanded.

  “Huh?”

  “Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean I am! Change your clothes in your room.”

  He just laughed at her when she picked his shirt up off the floor and smacked the wet fabric against his chest. He turned around and carried his new clothes up the stairs while Forest followed him. Her eyebrows pulled in confusion as she looked at his back. It looked like a map in scars. Having been through years and years of training, and many more in real combat, Forest could tell what the cause of many of his scars were. He had obviously been through extensive tactical training and sparring. She wanted to ask him about it but felt it was still too personal. Curiosity would soon begin to make the cat ill.

  Syrus found his room without assistance. Forest waited while he changed, wondering how the human clothes would look on him. She needed to talk to him about the possibility of cutting his hair. She figured she should bring it up now and give him time to pout and mull
it over. He might flat out refuse. The problem was that the length and style of his hair was a mark of his rank.

  Syrus came out a few minutes later. Forest sighed sadly like a beggar looking in the window of a shop at something they could never have. He was so beautiful. The jeans she had given him were a little too long, dragging behind his heels, but not so long as to really cause him trouble. He had replaced his belt but had removed the swords. His button up shirt hung open on his chest. He ran his hand down the buttons.

  “Would you help me, Forest?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  She moved forward and reached to button his shirt for him. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she pushed the first button through the buttonhole and realized just how intimate an action this was. Her eyes lingered on his chest as she buttoned the next one. His chest was scarred as well but not so much as his back. She buttoned the next one, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed. She was holding her breath without realizing it. Why did this shirt have so many buttons? She did the next one and the next, averting her eyes from his face.

  Syrus leaned his head down towards her and slowly reached up one hand, taking a gentle hold of her forearm. Forest froze, looking up into his face that was closer to hers than she had thought, and felt her eyes go wide.

  “Forest,” his voice was almost a whisper. “May I ask a favor of you?”

  “… Uhh…” her throat had gone dry. “What?”

  His fingers tightened gently on her arm and his thumb moved back and forth over her skin, teasing out a shiver in her.

  “Would you remove the silver you’re wearing?”

  “Why?”

  “I have a feeling that you are going to save my life in the next few days. It would pain me greatly not to be able to kiss the hand that saved me.”

  Forest’s mouth fell open stupidly. Snap out of it! A little voice yelled inside her head. She pulled her arm out of his grip, buttoned the remaining buttons at super speed, and stepped back from him. “Well, if I do save your life, you can ask again, and if I feel like letting you kiss me at that time, I might remove a few things.”

  Syrus smiled impishly at her. He had caught the fact the she had said, kiss me and not kiss my hand, and he was not about to forget it any time soon. But aside from that, his little ruse of ineptitude let him know that she was not immune to him, even though she was scampering away from him now and would probably turn back into the viper any moment. He didn’t mind staying on his toes because whether she being friendly or hurling blunt objects at him, Forest was the very opposite of boring.

  “So,” Syrus spread his arms out. “Do I look like a human?”

  Forest considered his question. He could pass for a human celebrity, maybe. She could take him to Hollywood, put him on the red carpet at some random event, make sure his picture was taken and the next day the internet would be buzzing with desperate questions of ‘who is this?! We all must know!’

  “Close enough,” she said. “Look, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “What?” he asked defensively.

  “Well, I know you aren’t going to like my suggestion, but we really need to make sure that you are not easily recognizable once we set out.”

  “I thought that was what the clothes were for.”

  “Yes. But it’s not enough. I want you to consider letting me cut your hair.”

  “No!”

  Forest sighed. “Look, I understand. I do. But if we are apprehended on our journey, the wolves will either kill you and take me hostage or kill me and take you hostage.”

  “Everyone thinks I’m dead. They won’t know I’m the prince.”

  “Even if they don’t realize that you’re the prince, your hair marks you as vampire nobility and a master of the Kata. Your capture would be too great a prize for them to overlook. They would try to ransom you, at which point they would learn your true identity. You would be killed in the worst way possible. They would put your dead body on display. The repercussions of your death would be felt through all of Regia. The wolves might succeed in overthrowing your father.”

  Syrus shuddered. “And what would happen to you?” he asked.

  Forest was surprised by his concern. “If they didn’t kill me as well, I’d be forced into slavery. The wolves I know have a love/hate regard for me. Philippe would probably claim me. So, basically if you die and I live, my life will suck. No offense.”

  Syrus was frowning at her. “Why would Philippe claim you?” The idea shot an angry pain into his gut.

  “He’s got a major Jones for me,” she said flippantly.

  “So he would force you to be his mistress?”

  “Something like that. But that’s best case scenario. If we are caught, they must think you are nobody special. We need to think of a good cover story, just in case.”

  Syrus looked like he was thinking hard. “But when we get back and everyone sees my hair short… that would be humiliating…People would laugh at me. How could I lead the army? They wouldn’t respect me.”

  “Look,” she said aggressively, “I don’t care about any of that. My job is to keep you alive, not fashionable.”

  Syrus looked highly offended. “This isn’t about fashion. You obviously have no idea what this would mean for me. It would be a symbol of shame. You have no concept of how vampire nobility treat those they feel are beneath them. If you knew, you never would have asked such a thing of me.”

  Forest’s insides writhed with rage. “You insensitive, arrogant, spoiled, selfish oaf of a sucker! You’re so right! I have no idea what shame is! Well, you can keep your hair and be the most beautiful and respected corpse there ever was. Go right ahead, you thoughtless baboon, and endanger both of our lives so you won’t have to lose face! You stupid, stupid, entitled, narcissist!”

  Forest turned her back on him, marched to her room, and slammed the door. The next second she opened it again to shout one more insult at him.

  “You…you…” words seemed to fail her as she struggled to use the worst one she could think of, “you…Male!”

  She slammed her door again and locked it. Syrus just stood there, his mouth hanging open. It was the first time in his recollection that someone had insulted him to his face. And she had done a thorough job of it.

  “What the heck is a baboon?” he muttered as he stalked back to his room.

  Forest lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. It had felt damn good to say all those things to Syrus. She was sure no one had ever dared speak to him like that before. That knowledge gave her a warm fuzzy feeling inside. She considered it her special privilege. She thought about the way his face had looked when she had called him all those names, and the next second, she was laughing so loudly, she could have been heard from outside.

  Syrus listened to her laughter. The sounds of her mirth made him feel even worse, if that was possible. He wasn’t angry, which confused him. Syrus felt like she had run over him and now she was laughing at him. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, trying to sort through his feelings. The house fell silent.

  Forest watched the sunset through her bedroom window. The deep hues shimmered in the retreating iridescent sunlight. The sky seemed to move in a slow dance of color that didn’t exist on Earth. The only thing Earth had that was close to a Regain sunset was the aurora borealis.

  How was she going to get them through the Wood alive? She had to make him understand the weight of the danger ahead. Could he really be so vain that he would rather die than cut his hair? Could he really be so heartless to not care if she lived or died? She shook herself. Of course he wouldn’t care if she died. Why would he? Well, if one of them was going to die on this trip, it would be him. If he did, she would be wanted by the vampires, and they would hunt her down. But she could escape to Earth. She could live out her life there happily enough.

  A sudden emotional intensity seized Forest as she watched the sky, and a rogue tear eased out of one of her emerald eyes. This was her home. As much as s
he loved Earth, she never wanted to give up all that she had fought for and accomplished. If things went awry on this trip, banishing herself to Earth forever felt like letting Leith and all those like him win. She would rather die fighting than cower and run. She would not acquiesce to failure. Failure might get the better of her, but not with her permission.

  Syrus idly twirled the ends of his hair around his fingers. He twirled the words she had flung at him around in his mind the same way he did his hair. She had spoken without restraint, and she had told him succinctly what she thought of him. Instead of responding with temper and haughty indignation, Syrus considered this a rare opportunity for him. Forest’s respect had to be earned. She wasn’t dazzled by the fact that he was the prince the way most women were. In her eyes, the fact that he was the prince was just another strike against him. If he could earn her respect then she could become something odd and wonderful to him: a real friend.

  Syrus thought about the possibility of Forest’s friendship for a while. Given her temperament, he didn’t think she could have many friends. He had no idea how to go about winning a friend, but he had to come up with a plan. At first, he had wanted to guard himself from her, but the more he replayed her voice over in his head, he began to want her to know who he really was.

  Syrus smiled to himself as he ran through a mental list of all the things he knew about her, so far. She was far more guarded then he ever had been. The woman, no doubt, had many secrets. In the events of their newborn acquaintance, Forest had unwittingly let Syrus know more about her than she had intended. He discovered that he had a growing respect for her and decided that the best way to possibly begin a friendship was to be more open and just be himself. The smooth charm he regularly used on women would fall flat on her and the usual effect of his charm wasn’t what he was going for. Not this time anyway.

  The knock on her door made Forest want to shout. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone the rest of the night? She sighed, steeling herself for what might happen next with Syrus, and opened the door.

  “What is it, Syrus?” she asked wearily.

  Syrus took a deep breath and then jumped in with both feet. “If you want to hate me for being born the Prince, that’s fine, go right ahead. But I didn’t choose it anymore that you chose to be born what you are. I’ll apologize for my behavior, and I shall strive to treat you with the respect you deserve from now on. But I won’t kiss your feet and I won’t ask you to kiss mine, either. Deal?”

  Forest just blinked at him for a moment. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  Syrus astonished her again by flashing another guileless smile. “I’ll think about what you said about my hair. Just give me a little time.”

  “Fine,” she said shortly.

  “It’s evening now.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Well, what do you usually do in the evenings?”

  Forest considered for a moment. He’d taken her abuse good naturedly—that surprised her. She could easily do something that would make the evening fun and memorable for him. “I usually make a fire outside and enjoy the onset of nightfall in my garden.”

  “That sounds nice. Could we do that?” he asked.

  “I guess. And I think we should make S’mores.”

  “S’mores?”

  “It’s a human thing. You’ll like it. It’s very silly. But you have to promise to eat some.”

  “Oh. So it’s human food?” he asked.

  Forest chuckled. “I don’t know if it’s actually food, but they eat it nonetheless.”

  “I promise to try at least one bite.” The childlike excitement was radiating from him again.

  “All right. I’ll get the stuff from the kitchen. If you want to go ahead and go outside, I’ll be right there.”

  Forest had a difficult time finding where she had stored her marshmallows. When she surfaced from the house, her arms full of graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate, she was surprised to see Syrus standing next to the fire pit, a fire already kindled.

  “How did you do that?” she asked.

  Syrus didn’t answer her, he just smiled blandly.

  “You aren’t going to tell me how you started the fire?” she pushed.

  He just continued to smile.

  “Hmm…Tricky, aren’t you?”

  “From time to time. So how does this work?”

  Syrus played with the first marshmallow she gave him until it was mashed into a sticky pulp. She couldn’t really blame him for finding the consistency funny. When she tried to hand him a wire poker with a marshmallow on the end, instructing him to light it on fire, he just laughed and crossed his arms. It took her a while to convince him she wasn’t joking. He burned the first one down to nothing, lost the second one off the end of the poker, and nearly singed his eyebrows on the third as he tried to blow it out. Finally, she was able to help him complete a S’more.

  “Okay. Now you’ve got to taste it. You promised.”

  Forest watched amusedly as Syrus took a decent sized bite. His face went from initial shock to bemusement as he chewed. Then he smiled at her, sending her into a fit of laughter.

  “What?” he asked, his mouth thick.

  “You’ve got marshmallow stuck to your fangs,” she laughed. “Oh, if only a bunch of human girls could see you now! You’d ruin their vampire fantasies.”

  He chuckled, licking at the goo on his teeth. “Yeah, why is that?”

  “Well, I guess I could be wrong, but I don’t consider sticky fangs very sexy.”

  “I was under the impression that you don’t find fangs sexy at all, sticky or otherwise.” He raised one eyebrow quizzically at her.

  “I don’t,” she said quickly, brought up short. “Like I said, I was thinking about a human’s fantasy.”

  “So humans know about vampires?” he asked seriously.

  “Oh sure. I don’t think many of them believe that vampires are real, just myth. Their myths vary about lots of things too.”

  “Like what? What do they think about us?”

  Forest sighed. “There are so many ideas; I don’t know the half of them. There are scary vampires, sexy vampires, classic vampires, cliché vampires, hybrid vampires, vampires in space, take your pick. You can’t come out in the sunlight or you’ll burn to death. You probably know that that is true. Earth’s sun will kill you. There are some ideas that vampires are really dead, reanimated corpse stuff.”

  “Eww. That’s gross,” Syrus interjected.

  “Yeah. Let’s see, sleeps in a coffin, allergic to garlic, they know about silver. It goes on and on, and they keep changing their ideas. It really is just the fault of vampires crossing the portal and becoming so addicted to human blood that they basically go insane.”

  “Sounds like it’s all great uncle Dracula’s fault.”

  Forest laughed. “A lot of it is.”

  “You’re the one who caught him the last time he tried to sneak through the portal, aren’t you?”

  “Yup. Is he still mad about it?”

  “Oh yeah he is! I try to avoid him as much as I can. He’s so annoying. And if he doesn’t get his fix of human blood every so often, he goes totally crazy. State events are excruciating with him, he always says the most embarrassing and inappropriate things. And he’ll drone on and on about the good old days in Transylvania, and when he does, the old accent comes back.”

  Forest shrieked with laughter as Syrus wiggled his eyebrows theatrically at her and said, “You are a beautiful flower, my dear, come closer,” in an apt impersonation of Dracula.

  Forest was amazed that she could laugh so hard. She hadn’t laughed like that in so long it totally escaped her memory.

  “I can’t tell you how many movies have been made about him.”

  “Really? Could you get some for me?” Syrus asked. “I bet they’re hilarious.”

  “I might have a few in the basement. I’ll have to check.”

  The fire crackled happily between them as Forest toasted another marshmallo
w.

  “So, do you like working for Fortress?” he asked.

  “Fortress just is. I can’t allow myself to have opinions about it, but I love being a traffic controller. It’s good to have the ability to have some status, and being on Earth keeps me out of Regian politics.”

  “Is there anything on Earth like Fortress?”

  “Sure. Some of them are secret and they all seem to be named with acronyms like, CIA, KGB, FBI, and MI6.”

  “Have you spent any time as a spy?”

  Forest laughed. “Not a real one. Some of what I’ve done in the past is similar to being a spy, I suppose. When I was first hired at Fortress, I had to take all kinds of aptitude tests; the results were not very flattering. I was given a very low ranking as a possible spy.” She was not sure why she had just told him that and wished she hadn’t.

  “Hmm…I bet it said something like ‘too volatile.’ Am I right?”

  “Something like that,” she replied bitterly. “I don’t care. I never wanted to be a spy. Everyone at Fortress slots you as a spy if you are a Shape shifter. It’s just racial profiling.”

  “Ah, well.” Syrus shrugged. “We are all victims of stereotypes from time to time, aren’t we?”

  She narrowed her eyes. Yes, he would know something of that.

  They were quiet for a while, and Syrus began twisting his wire poker between his fingers. Forest couldn’t bring herself to pick the conversation back up, and Syrus didn’t seem to care. She allowed herself to stare at him. His expression was blank like he had simply left his body and gone elsewhere. His lack of expression, coupled with his pupilless eyes, was unnerving. He seemed so far away. It was starting to grow dark and the firelight cast shadows about his angular face. The bone structure of his brow and cheeks was so sharp, so masculine, but his mouth was soft and full.

  Syrus had a sense that Forest was staring at him. Over the last few years, he had become accustomed to being stared at by those around him. Now he was having a sensation that he couldn’t account for: his eyes hurt. It felt like his shut pupils were straining to open, to see. He had the feeling that a fleeting opportunity was passing before him.

  Syrus smiled suddenly, making Forest startle guiltily. “You know, I was just thinking how very much I wish I could stare at you as openly and unabashed as you stare at me.”

  Forest huffed. “If you could see, you wouldn’t look at me any longer than was necessary. I’m really quite hideous.”

  “Well, that was a large compliment. Thank you.”

  “Huh?” Forest asked bewildered.

  “Since you think ugly people are not worth looking at, you must think I’m devastatingly attractive. You’ve been staring at me for a long time.” He laughed when she made no reply. “Fascinating that you make no attempt to deny or contradict me.”

  Forest was burning with embarrassment. She had to change the subject and fast. “How did you get all those scars?” she asked quickly.

  “Training.”

  “That must be terrible—” she said in a falsely sympathetic tone “—being well trained and never getting to really exercise your skills. I think I’d die of self-pity.”

  Syrus refused to take the bait, he merely smiled at her. “I almost did once. No one thought I would pull through. But then, as you said earlier, I’m a narcissist. I love myself too much to just let myself die.”

  There was another momentary silence, more uncomfortable than the previous.

  “I’m not everything you accused me of,” he said quietly.

  Forest had been waiting for him to bring this up. She was surprised that it had taken him this long to complain about her insults. “Oh?” she prompted.

  “No. I am, unfortunately, some of those things, it’s true.”

  “And you’ll enlighten me, no doubt, about which ones,” she said acidly.

  “No. I hope in the course of this journey, you’ll find out for yourself and unwittingly form a better opinion of me.”

  “I see. You must have a nasty opinion of me in return.”

  “Not at all,” Syrus said seriously. “I have a very high opinion of you.”

  “Why?” she demanded aggressively.

  Forest felt aggravated when he smiled at her again.

  “Now, now, you can’t go asking questions like that and expect me to answer them. I’d embarrass the both of us.”

  Forest was embarrassed anyway. She wished she hadn’t asked him why. She realized how stupid she’d made herself sound; like she didn’t deserve respect from anyone. She hoped that thought hadn’t occurred to him.

  “Despite all my faults, would you consider being my friend, Forest?”

  Forest couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d slapped her in the face. “I … uh…”

  Syrus waited for her reply, one eyebrow raised.

  “I don’t know how,” she finally managed.

  Syrus laughed, not in mocking, but a release of his own tension. “Neither do I.”

  “You really want to be my friend?” she asked seriously.

  “I swear on my hair.”

  “Well, that’s an oath I can take seriously,” she said emphatically.

  “Would you tell me about your childhood, Forest?”

  Forest hated to admit to herself that she was touched. No one ever asked her about her childhood, not even Kindel. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  “What are your parents like?”

  “Dead,” she said shortly.

  “Dead?”

  “My mother died during my adolescence. And my father is alive as far as I know, but he’s dead to me. I don’t even know who he is, only that he is an Elf of some rank.” Her voice was completely devoid of emotion.

  “Do you think your father knows about you?”

  “Oh, he knows about me all right. The only thing he ever did for me was force my mother to send me to the Academy. He was determined that even his shameful bastard would have the best education.” Forest threw a marshmallow violently into the fire. “I guess he meant well, but I wish he never would have taken any notice of me at all.”

  Syrus was listening, but when she mentioned the Academy, he remembered something Redge had said about her. “So that’s how you know my cousin, Leith.”

  Forest’s insides went cold. “What?” she asked deadly quiet.

  “You know my cousin, Leith. You must have met at the Academy. He spoke of you to my guard, Redge. I thought it odd that you two should have occasion to know each other. Now it makes sense.”

  “What did Leith say about me?” Forest asked through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, I don’t remember now. It was something nice though, a compliment. Something about your eyes, I think.”

  Forest realized that Syrus didn’t know anything, but she felt like she was going to erupt regardless. All she could do was run away.

  “Forest? Forest?!” Syrus called at her retreating back. He carefully walked around the fire and followed her back to the house. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” he asked as he closed the front door behind him.

  “No. I’m tired and I want to go to sleep now. You should do the same.”

  “Okay,” Syrus said confusedly. “Thank you for the evening. I enjoyed it.”

  “Good night, Syrus.” Her voice was harsh, and she practically sprinted away from him to her room.

  “Good night,” he said quietly, sure she hadn’t heard him.

  She leaned against her door after she shut it, breathing heavily. She’d had to get away from him and his questions. She didn’t think they could be friends. Friendship was built on knowledge. Knowledge was too high a price. She couldn’t afford it. So Leith was his cousin. Just when she was starting to think Syrus was half way decent.

  Forest got ready for bed quickly. She was so tired her muscles were rubbery in some places, knotted like macramé in others. She listened at her door for a few moments to see if she could hear Syrus moving around. Silence. Because she thought it best to still consi
der him her enemy, Forest opened her door a crack to better hear, before turning out the lights and crawling into bed.

  An hour later, Forest’s eyes were cinched shut but her brain refused to stop whirring like a computer that had been left on too long. She never had any trouble falling asleep, and it wasn’t like Syrus was making too much noise—he wasn’t making any. She wasn’t even thinking coherent thoughts about him, but his face haunted her. Time lumbered on in a slow agonizing dirge as Forest fought to shoo him from her mind and drift off to sleep.

  Syrus sat on the edge of his bed again, half meditating. He was tired, but his irritation would not allow him to relax. He could feel Forest all the way across the house. His door was cracked open just like hers, and because there was no other noise in the house, he was able to hear her breathing faintly. She was not asleep. His muscles constricted every time she sighed or rolled over. He had never been so physically aware of another person as he was at that moment, and it was maddening. He knew he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman, and he was incredulous of his own desire. He didn’t even have a mental picture of how she looked. He had been trying to make one up but was so far unsuccessful. The tones and nuances of her voice were clear in his head and he had been conjuring it for a while, listening to her speak inside his mind.

  He was desperate to know why the mention of Leith had set her off. What kind of history could illicit such a strong and immediate response? Leith had obviously mortally offended her. Syrus needed to distance himself from any association to Leith she might draw. He figured that wouldn’t be too hard. He wasn’t at all close with his cousin. He didn’t have many occasions to meet with him. His opinion of Leith was vague.

  The night continued to mature, and Syrus was acutely aware when Forest finally fell asleep. He listened to her breathing as she slipped deeper and deeper. He waited. When he knew she had achieved a level of sleep that she would not wake from easily, he made a decision based purely on instinct and frustration. He’d had a very weak moment earlier in the night when he considered reaching for his flask of human blood and taking a small drink. But he knew that would have been utter folly. He wouldn’t have been able to do it without making some cry of pain. It would have woken her. So he did the only other thing he could.

  The incantation was uttered almost inaudibly, over and over, until he achieved some results, slight though they were. The pain was not much this time, more of an ache. He felt the usual amount of disorientation as he stood up, seeing blurry flashes of the room he was in for the first time. Nothing was clear. He was only able to see silhouettes and shadows unless the thing he wanted to see was right in front of his eyes. This was his most guarded secret.

  Syrus moved silently through the dark house to Forest’s door. He stood just outside her room for a few minutes, just listening to her breathing. He pushed her door a fraction of an inch, seeing if the door would creak. It didn’t. He pushed it a bit more and cringed as the hinge moaned quietly. Forest shifted but slept on. He only needed to open it a little bit more to pass through. He hesitated, feeling despicable, like some kind of thief. He would have changed his mind about what he was doing, but he really didn’t want to do anything. He just wanted to look at her. Even though what he would see was not her true face, he didn’t care. He had to have a mental picture of her. Whatever he saw would suffice.

  The door made no more attempt to tattle on him. Syrus moved to stand by the side of her bed, finally getting his first look at her. In spite of the blurriness of his vision, his heart clenched painfully, his lungs seized, and he found himself on his knees, literally. Winded and furious. It wasn’t fair! Never had Syrus felt such injustice. It didn't matter to him this wasn't her true face. What mattered was that everyone else could see her and he couldn't. He'd lived his whole life and never seen such fierce beauty. Her features were sharp and delicate at the same time with the most perfectly shaped set of lips he had ever seen. His own began to burn with the desire to kiss her mouth. Her hair was long and curly of what looked like a rich warm brown, but he couldn’t trust his eyes enough to know the color. Her hair spread over her pillow like a vast net and hung off the edge of the bed. And he was clutched by a desire so strong he couldn’t even stop to consider how great a risk he was taking.

  With a greater amount of reverent delicacy than he had ever shown anything before, Syrus lifted a handful of her hair and brought it to his lips. His eyes rolled back in his head involuntarily. His insides churned like an ocean storm, violent, tumultuous, and senseless. He almost woke her on purpose, just to see her eyes. He had to see her eyes. He had to!

  Syrus moved like a flash of shadow from her room and back across the house. He had teetered on the edge of reckless stupidity and had no other choice but to run, or jump off the edge. If she would have woken to see him there, kissing her hair, he had no doubt she would have killed him unceremoniously. He deserved it.

  His weak sight was growing weaker by the second and it would soon be gone again completely. He stretched his body out on the bed, feeling tired now, at last. The imprinted memory of her beauty lulled him into a sweet and peaceful sleep. No matter how much longer he lived, or if his sight was ever fully restored, she was with him now, imprisoned inside his mind, where he would never let her go.

  Chapter Seven