ONE MEETING
"Who goes to learn football in America?"
"I will," James said, his Uncle Garrett frowning suspiciously at his quick response. He had to sound confident or else they weren't going to let him go. After almost three years of learning how to manipulate his Uncle Garrett and Aunt Millie, he wasn't about to let it all go down the drain.
Millie shook her head, her sprayed perm jostling over her slender shoulders. "This is ridiculous," she said and Garrett agreed with his obstinate wife on the matter with a grunt.
"I want to go."
"Go to a camp here." Garrett said, dark eyes dismissive as he gave his watch a quick glance.
James had completed almost every training camp available, not to mention he was a far more accomplished player than most in his age category, and they knew it. "I've done them all."
His spoilt older sister returned from one of her regular shopping trips then, puncturing the tension. She tossed her tightly wound strawberry hair over her shoulder while flashing her brother a quick smile and dropping her singular white paper bag to the long mahogany table. "What are you all discussing?"
"Absolutely nothing." Millie took an interest in the clothing Sophie had just purchased, and James couldn't help but think about the dent his sister was making in her trust-fund.
He leaned forward to interrupt. "I need the paperwork and plane ticket by Tuesday."
"It's not happening, James."
"What are you on about now, brother?" His sister turned her nose up at him.
"Don't you have something better to do, Sophie?" He refocused on his aunt and uncle. "I want to go."
"It won't further your skills; it's America. You won't be broadening your horizons." His uncle attempted to be diplomatic, but if James just came out and told them why he wanted to go they'd lecture him again on how he needed to be more responsible.
"He wants to broaden something."
Sophie's pretentious giggle annoyed him enough to turn in his chair towards her. "At least I can get laid, Sophie."
Her eyes narrowed to slits, her death glare giving him a small spark of amusement.
His aunt and uncle were not impressed, though, and the comment might have just destroyed his escape for summer break. So, he decided to throw in one last sweetener.
"It's not even co-ed. I purely want to go to learn."
Millie and Garrett shared a mutual and concerned expression with each other before looking back at him. "Fine," they said in unison.
James paused at their abrupt agreement to allow him to leave. "Really?"
"You never stop till you get what you want." His aunt stood. She appeared as though she was going to say something more, but instead she turned away and her clicking heels gave her exit a sense of ominous finality.
Garrett lagged behind, patting James' shoulder in congratulations as he passed by.
Sophie snatched up her bag. "What's your problem lately? Why did you just convince them to go to America for football?"
"Because I want to." He stood, wearing a triumphant grin. "And because staying here with all of you makes me want to kill myself." Turning to leave, he waved a hand over his head and happily left his sister for the solitude of his room. For the first time since his parents' death, he was going to have unregulated freedom and he couldn't wait for it.
#
No one but the driver, George, had accompanied him to the airport, sending him off with a don't get into any trouble, James. America can be a scary place.
He had found that funny enough to smile at before he joined the boarding line up for the plane.
A flirty flight attendant seated him in first-class. Every time she came by she batted her eyes at him like she wanted him to be mentally undressing her. The sad part, he was spending more time thinking about the fact that he'd managed to get away from Blackwell Manor for the summer.
She came to his side towards the end of the trip without him noticing. "Thirsty, Mr. Dray?"
He looked up to her and took the can of pop she was offering. "Thanks." If she knew his last name, she'd looked up his ticket information, and that meant she knew he was sixteen. But he knew he looked much older so he couldn't really blame her.
The flight attendant had walked away after he opened his drink and disappeared behind a blue curtain, so all he could see was her little red heels. As he focused his attention on that, the plane shook, and though he didn't react like the rest of the people around him with startled yelping, he didn't particularly like the new level of turbulence.
The plane dropped suddenly, and he slipped the pop into the near drink holder and allowed one of his hands to grab the armrest as the speaker buzzed on above his head.
"Good evening. There is a storm building on the northeast coast and our landing plans for Philadelphia are being rerouted to a safe alternative in Norfolk, Virginia..."
He didn't hear the rest of what the captain said because the turbulence had gotten worse. Thinking about his parents, he wondered if it had been like this right before their private jet had plummeted out of the storming skies.
When the plane landed, he deboarded with a bunch of rather angry and grumbling passengers. He wasn't one of them, not after he had seen the newsreel about what was happening. There was a hurricane forming, grounding all flights until further notice. He'd have to wait it out in a hotel and would be late for his football camp, but it also meant he'd be without the bodyguard his aunt and uncle insisted on, which was a good enough excuse for him.
He waited to use a phone as his cell phone wasn't working. The waiting line was long and slow due to the entire airport needing to call out. For twenty minutes it hardly moved a foot ahead, but when he finally did get a turn, his fingers hovered above the numbers in deliberation.
"James?" His aunt sounded annoyed and tired.
"Flights have been grounded. There's a hurricane."
Her tone changed in a matter of milliseconds. "Oh, good God, are you alright?"
"I'm fine." He rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get a room in a hotel."
"Which hotel?" she barked in-between whispering to his uncle in the background. "We'll put you up in a hotel, in one of the suites. We don't want you in some dingy room they're going to offer. Which airport are you at?"
He glanced around for a sign and found one. "Norfolk International Airport."
"Where in hell is that?"
"Virginia," he answered, ready to reassure his aunt, but a scent filled the air around him, drawing his attention. His eyes searched for something, but he couldn't guess what. A magnetic pull tugged at him as he searched for the unknown source of his peaked senses.
Then there she was.
"Millie, I gotta run. I'll go to that hotel."
"I haven't told you which hotel--"
He hung up the phone with a rough hand and spun around. Where are you? His acute senses caught onto her scent again and pinpointed her exact location across the busy terminal. Chasing her direction, he found it effortless to stalk her as she weaved in and out of the crowds.
What disturbed him most was the chase. He didn't chase girls, but none of them had ever done this to him.
Walking forward with a heavy step, he pushed around people and things. There were a lot of them, but they backed away from him.
He saw the top of her brunette head; there was no way he was letting her go without figuring out what was happening.
His control had faded away into nothing but instinct and with it came a pounding heart.
Her unimaginable aroma made his mouth water. He should have just run the opposite way, but he was on a short leash, entranced with even the idea of her.
Losing sight of her, he followed her aura blindly to a back hall where stink-ridden washrooms mixed with her futile pheromones. His impatience and quick-flare temper got the best of him. "Where the fuck is she!" In a quick spin, he came face to face with her.
He tried to focus past his new narrowed vision and study her abnormally green eyes, lush dark hair and perfect round cheeks that framed her heart-shaped face.
She had a curvy little figure that he could easily appreciate.
Her button-like nose wrinkled at him. "Umm..." Initially, there had been a distraction in her eyes but now they focused on him.
Her delayed speech made him think she felt what he did, but then her attention aimed away to something behind them, and she bolted.
"Hey!" He took off in the direction she had. Her behaviour was odd and scattered. She moved quick and turned quicker. Slipping out the sliding doors of the airport, she disappeared into the night. He ran after her, pushing past the part of him that told him he'd lost his mind.
He didn't have his bags; he didn't even know where he'd left them.
Stepping through the doors, he looked both ways before he caught a glimpse of her long hair blowing around her pale face. It was humid and windy and in the distance he could hear thunder rolling. He didn't have a lot of experiences with hurricanes, but he figured there was no time like the present to learn more.
He continued to follow her, watching as she approached a man who leant against a window. But suddenly she threw herself against the stranger.
His step halted, and upon further inspection he realized what she had pinned against herself. It wasn't a man at all; it was a cloaked demon dressed up as a human. In his opinion, the most annoying form of a demon. The discomfort that came from watching her with the creature caught him off guard.
She was talking to it, threatening its livelihood before she grabbed it and yanked it across the street to the parking lot.
He once again followed, watching her pull a knife from the back of her jeans, realizing that this girl his senses were so attracted to was nothing more than a Hunter. He went to turn away just as the snarling demon got the upper hand and took her down on the ground, pinning her beneath it with a ruthless grip around her neck.
There wasn't a choice, he just barrelled into the fight, ripping the demon off her by the shoulders and slamming it down to the cement floor. The rest was a blur and the fight quickly ended with him snapping the demon's neck. Its lifeless body wouldn't disintegrate till the sun hit it, so he rolled him a few feet under a car to hide the corpse and brushed his trembling hands off on his pressed jeans. In a daze from the unexpected adrenaline, his focus wandered into the firing line of her fierce olive and apple-colored eyes.
Coming to an upright position on the wet cement, she continued to give him the most disgusted glare. He could understand why she looked so annoyed, Demon Hunters were angry little things that had short lives. It was a shame for her because he thought she was beautiful and intriguing.
He decided to do something his aunt and uncle would not have approved of, and offered her his hand.
She stared at it, her nose beginning to wrinkle again and then she got up- without his aid. "I don't know who you think you are, but I was trying not to kill it."
"You appeared to be losing," he pointed out rather obviously, in case she didn't understand death by strangulation.
"Excuse me?" Her eyes could have shot lasers, and it wouldn't have been surprising to him.
"Your end was near."
She glowered, opening and closing her mouth, eventually sputtering out some words. "I wasn't dying."
"Right." He stepped back, confirming that following her had been a mistake. "Have a good night." He turned to walk away, and it made his chest hurt, among other things. He legitimately felt sick, and he could try and chalk it down to the plane ride, maybe some bad food, but he knew it was her.
"How did you kill it?" she called.
He stopped, thinking about how he should have just kept walking. She's a bloody Demon Hunter. But he turned back to her. "I snapped its neck."
The strong wind whipped her hair all about, drawing attention to her unattainable nature. "You know something about demon?"
The question put him off and he almost didn't answer. "I know nothing about demon other than that they all need to die."
"Are you a Hunter too?"
Almost laughing, he held it back, not particularly wanting to insult her. "No, not even remotely close."
"And you're obviously not a demon so..." She batted the lashes of her supernaturally beautiful eyes through the sputtering rain. "You're human?"
He didn't want to tell her he was an Elite. He couldn't imagine, in the grand hierarchy, she as a Hunter would take that well. Most found Elites like him intimidating, and the last thing he wanted was to frighten her away, not now that he was having a half decent conversation with her.
She gave her head a shake. "Not that I care."
"No, of course not," he mumbled, glancing up at the sky as a flash of lightning surged above them. Shifting his weight, he noticed her eyes gliding up and down, sizing him up.
"Is there a problem?"
"You were in that hall, in the airport." The accent she had was soft and held a slight drawl that tranquilized his growing turmoil.
"I was," he said as level-voiced as he could.
"Why are you following me?" With that, she stepped in closer, putting inches between them, just as the wind blew her delicate scent in his face.
The proximity of her and her aroma made him freeze; she smelt... Lycan.
"What are you!" He grabbed her arm.
Her eyes widened, and she swung around in an impressive feat, breaking his hold on her.
"Don't touch me!" Staring at her, he couldn't let her go. He needed to know more about her, but the rain came and with it huge rocks of hail that stung where it hit him.
"Come with me back inside." It was a forward demand, and he knew it might not work.
She hugged her coat around her shoulders, clearly unsure about him. "Am I supposed to know you?" Her eyes moved to the sky as a gust of strong wind whirled around them, causing her to lose her footing. He caught her without even thinking and pulled her in protectively, her cheek resting against his chest, accepting his comfort.
His hands moved from her waist and up her spine to her shoulders, giving him enough of an outline of her lean-muscled body. He wanted her, but in a way he'd never felt before.
She pulled out of his arms, and he almost didn't let her.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Her expression was less hostile and even held some curiosity. "It's like eleven at night."
"Sort of like breakfast time for me." The storm threatened them with its thrashing wind and pelting rain, and so he turned, testing her. "Coming then?" He walked forward, but he didn't feel her near or hear her footsteps. He forced himself not look behind because what he was doing was crazy enough in itself.
Crossing the small road used for departures and pick-ups, he entered the double-doors of the airport as the lights inside flickered.
To his surprise, she appeared beside him, shaking the wet hair from her shoulders. "Not like I could get home in this storm anyway."
"So, you are hungry?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Kind of."
"Me too." He headed off in a direction he remembered seeing a food court.
She stayed rather close, her shoulder nudging his arm from time to time. He suspected she understood about as much as he did, that being near each other felt okay.
He found a table away from most and she sat, removing her coat and looking up at him now with a more mellow tone of olive in her eyes. He gulped. Everything about her appeared to be Hunter, but she smelt so Lycan.
"What do you want?"
She browsed the food stands. "I'm not picky."
He paused, tapping his hand on the back of the chair he would sit in when he returned. "I'll be right back." Walking away, he pulled his wallet out and found a twenty dollar bill. Not wanting to put much distance between them he waited in the first line he approached.
He tried not to look at her, but he did, watching as she brushed her damp hair from her blotchy cheeks and pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her quivering fingers.
You should get up and leave. This is weird... A girl's voice ghosted into his thoughts, and it made him trip backward into a man standing behind.
"Watch it!" he barked, and James muttered an apology.
She was still sitting at the table, but now she was staring at him. He's pretty cute.
He tensed, turning away from her as he realized her voice was in his head, which meant one thing and one thing only...
"True Bond."
"Excuse me?" the girl behind the counter sniped.
His forehead creased at her rude tone. "What?"
"Are you going to order something or not?"
"Oh, right." Focusing on the menus above the till, he mindlessly ordered two of the same meals. He didn't wait for her to tell him the total and handed over the money before taking his place in another line to wait for food.
The lights in the airport flickered again.
He's... Her voice returned and then he found himself waiting to hear her speak more. Being bonded to a Hunter was impossible; she had to be a confused Lycan. His unsettled thoughts didn't end there. True Bonds were said to not exist, which meant... they were an anomaly.
His order of two turkey sandwiches came and he picked them up, walking to the table as she went to stand. His heart sped, and he dropped the food to the table in front of her, startling her enough that she sat back in her chair.
Sliding the sandwich over he'd bought her, he sat. "Are you allergic to anything?"
"No." She seemed miffed by his questioning, but he didn't want to kill her, so he considered it a legitimate question.
"Turkey then." He put it down in front of her and opened his right away. "Oh, and I'm James Dray." In the heat of their weird meeting, he'd forgotten any formal introductions and so he set out to rectify it. If anything, he hoped his prudish manners might charm her.
Tearing back the paper carefully, she picked at the bread and put a piece in her mouth. Even that simple action mesmerized him as he waited for her name.
"I'm Kara... Heart."
"Kara Heart?" He repeated it to make sure he had heard right.
She nodded and took a small bite of food.
"And do you live here?"
"Y-yeah..."
He found that information a bit depressing, but her accent had already told him she did.
She wiped the corner of her mouth with a finger and ate more, appearing hungry. "I'm assuming you don't live here."
He smiled. "I came from England for football, but the storm has rerouted those plans."
"Oh, yeah, that must suck."
She made him smile, her abrupt words made her dare he say cute.
"Do you hunt them often?" He needed to know, so he asked.
A few tense moments passed as her lips moved, but nothing came out. "Sort of goes with the Hunter territory, so yeah, I kinda have to."
"You really are a Hunter then?"
"Obviously."
He stared at her and how she appeared so very Hunter but smelt so very Lycan. Then it dawned on him that she was both. Her parents had broken Coven Law; she should not exist at all. If the Coven ever found out about her, she could be as good as dead.
He balked at his discovery and wondered if anyone else had ever picked up on it. Some might have, but not cared. Many liked to challenge the Coven and he didn't blame them for it, but it was amazing she existed.
Why is he staring at me like that?
Her voice in his head surprised him again, and he turned his eyes away, eating more.
"Do you hunt them a lot?" she asked.
"No," he answered. "I never hunt them. I just don't like them."
"Not many do." Her voice faded away into silence.
"Hard to like something that's tried to take over our world more than several times."
"You know a lot..." She breathed. "For..."
"For?" He waited for her to continue; perhaps she knew what he was. That would relieve him.
"For a human." She glanced away, and he sighed, she obviously hadn't inherited the senses of a Lycan.
"Yeah." He went along with it, only because he wasn't about to open up his life story to an American girl who was a practiced and believed Hunter.
It seemed as though she was going to say something else, but in a silent rush of darkness the airport went black. There was a gasp of voices in the momentary blackout, and he reached out to take her hand on the table top. "Are you familiar with... hurricanes?"
"They happen." Her fingers laced in between his without hesitation.
The generators in the airport started up, and the lights returned, but dimmer.
They stared at their hands in the middle of the table, and their eyes met. He could feel her heart rate increase and he sensed a new excitement course through her. It amazed him how well she responded to his touch, and he let her go because of it.
Sinking back into her chair, she looked down to her half-eaten sandwich. Her nervousness toward him made him think this was a new experience for her, and that made him nervous in turn.
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen," she said softly.
"Mm." He stared at her with wanting. She was young and innocent. Though he might have only been a couple years older, it was enough of a gap to drive the point home that he couldn't have her.
He wouldn't be able to ever have her, and it upset him.
"Is that a problem?"
He wanted to tell her no, but it was another hurdle piled against her. "I'm sorry for following you, but you caught my attention. You look older than fourteen."
She didn't say anything, and she didn't need to because he could see his comment had hurt her.
"Who taught you to hunt?"
"My grandmother," she whispered. "But a lot of it just came to me."
"Instinct." He'd be lying to say that information didn't piss him off. Demon Hunters were created and forced into existence by the Coven, made to protect Lycan and be sacrificial beings. In other words they were humans with certain qualities that had been enhanced by dark power. He'd never been impressed with the information, but he'd accepted it as part of the many mistakes of their world.
"Yeah, I guess." Her voice was disintegrating. He wanted her to talk and tell him things about herself, even if he'd just shot her down. He did something unimaginable next. "I think you're very beautiful."
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you say that to all the girls?"
"Not nearly." He answered honestly and went back to eating.
She had that deer in headlights look about her, but he ignored it.
"Tell me things about you."
"I don't even--" She stopped, seeming to think something over before she spoke again. "I have a younger brother." And at that moment, she began to trust him, telling him about her life and family. She came from a poorer world than him. Her father had left his children when they were young, and their mother was just as absent. She was nothing like him, and the world in which she lived was nothing like his.
#
He walked with her through the halls of the airport for hours, not letting her leave, even if she'd tried to escape several times. Each time, though, she was easily coaxed back into staying as the storm lashed outside.
She wanted to be with him as much as he with her.
They sat on a bench, shoulder to shoulder as she ate a chocolate bar he'd just bought from the vending machine. The hours had passed quickly, and the sun was now starting to rise through the clouds as the hurricane broke.
He knew he would be on a flight out of there very soon.
She played with the wrapper in her hand.
"I could take you home," he offered.
"It's okay. I don't live far." She gave him a small smile.
He almost leaned in to kiss her then; he'd wanted to kiss her for hours.
She looked back away as an announcement echoed through the airport.
"The storm we were dealing with has lifted and we are predicting flights to resume in the next hour..."
It continued, but he stopped listening.
"You must be excited about your camp." Her encouraging comment was lost in the soft dejection of her tone.
"Not as much. I did it to get away from home."
"You don't like your home?"
He smiled. "I like it fine, just not so much the people in it."
"Oh."
He continued for some odd reason and shared something with her he did not talk about with others. "It's not the same with my parents gone."
"Are – are they coming back soon?"
And then he told her the most disturbing part of his life. "They were killed in a plane accident three years ago."
"That's awful."
He felt her sympathy. "I wouldn't say you have a perfect life either."
"No, but I'm just a Hunter." Her words killed him; she expected to die. She expected to never enjoy life outside of what she was coded into at birth. The Coven had created a suicidal genetic army.
He dropped his mouth to her cheek and kissed her gently. "Don't say that. You can have more if you want it."
"It's hard to imagine my life any other way."
Spurred by her hopelessness, he had to find out more about True Bonds and what it meant to be together, because in the short amount of time he'd been around her, he'd become invested.
"Could I have your phone number, Kara Heart?"
She smiled. "Only if I can have yours."
"That was a given."
Her giggle was the sweetest noise he'd ever heard a girl make. He didn't want to leave her, and he had to stop himself from saying screw football camp because of it. He pulled out his cell phone from his pant pocket and flipped it open.
Leaning in, she watched him create a new contact.
He tapped his way through spelling her name and inched closer to her, so he could feel her elbow pressed into his ribs.
"It's spelled with a K."
"My apologies," he whispered in her ear, and it made her whole body tense.
"It-it's not a big deal."
He handed her the phone so she could put her number in, and she did so with nervous fingers.
He kissed her cheek again, wanting her to relax around him. Then her nose moved into his, and he couldn't hold back his need. Kissing her was like no one else he'd ever kissed. Her lips electrified his and even though she was board-like and nervous, he hardly noticed. Cupping her cheek and bringing her into him, he hoped she could feel how much he liked her.
She broke their mouths with a soft moan. "I don't understand..."
"Understanding is sometimes overrated."
"I sort of like you."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I sort of like you too, Kara."
She brushed her mouth back against his. "But I don't think you understand what you could be getting into."
"Well, whatever I don't understand, I hope I get to one day."
She nodded, agreeing – she wanted one day.
He lifted her chin with his finger. "I'm going to call you."
"I hope." Her whisper grazed his lips with coveted wanting.
Within the hour he had a flight out of Norfolk, Virginia, and she walked him to the boarding terminal. Before handing over his ticket information, he kissed her once more, telling her one day again, because suddenly he was so sure about a one day with her.
#
He'd expected the drizzling rain of home to feel more welcoming than it did. But judging by his erratic heart rate and unsettled stomach, he knew leaving Kara Heart back in America was the cause. He'd spent all four weeks of football camp mulling over the way she made him feel. Being around all those incompetent humans hadn't helped either. He'd returned home annoyed and not anything close to refreshed.
Adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder, he trudged toward George and the black Bentley waiting for him in the pickup area.
The driver greeted him with a smile and reached out to take his bag. "How was America?"
He grunted, swinging his bag from his shoulder with carelessness. "Interesting."
The man caught it and placed it into the baggage compartment. "Well, you look in one piece. So I suppose you survived?"
"Mm." James finished the rest of the thought in his head. Just barely.
"Better get you home. Millie's planned a dinner for you."
"Oh, yay." He opened the car door and ducked into the back seat without another word. The drive wasn't long to Blackwell but it gave him enough time to brood about his trip. He came to the conclusion he couldn't tell anyone about Kara, not even his best friend Carter Green. It was the best choice and he didn't need a screw up to prove it.
His phone in his pocket pinged with a reminder and he dug it out to look over the single message flashing across its shiny screen.
Kara: Hope you made it home alright.
About to shove the phone back in his pocket and ignore her, he paused. He knew he should just move on. She was the one responsible for making him feel so disturbed, had his brain off football and obsessed with her instead. At camp he'd done worse than he could have imagined, making his human competition look much better than they were.
His incompetence bothered him, but he typed a quick reply. I did, thanks. Throwing the phone on the leather seat beside him, he glanced out the rainy window to the lush countryside beyond just as another message alert sounded.
He snatched the phone up quicker than he meant to.
Kara: Did your camp not go good?
His nostrils flared. He had kept all of his thoughts on a short leash, making sure none would be heard by her, which meant she had a natural premonition toward him that was surprising and almost relieving.
Not at all. I was distracted, he replied.
The car slowed at the iron gates of Blackwell Manor and he shifted in his seat in anticipation. Coming home should have felt better, but all he longed for was the company of a girl he hardly knew.
"Welcome home, James." George smiled at him through the rear-view mirror.
He muttered something of a thank you and waited for the car to come to a halt out front of his family estate. The front door opened before he stepped onto the gravel.
His twenty-year-old cousin, Andrew, jogged the steps and pulled him into a forced hug. "You did shit at camp!" He laughed.
James grumbled, pushing him off. "What do you know?"
His sister appeared from behind the large wooden doors, walking the steps with her long-legged gait, smiling wide and waving a piece of paper in her hands. "To Mr. Garrett Dray, In reply to your progress inquiry on your nephew, James, we write to inform you that he displayed impressive skills well above the competitive levels of the rest of our camp. We would suggest in the future, he attends a camp more suited to benefitting his soccer education." Sophie stopped in front of him with a cocked eyebrow and smirk. "You got kicked out of American football camp, you prat."
James ripped the paper from her and looked it over. "Where did this come from?"
His cousin boasted a proud grin. "Garrett's fax, I had to steal it. It's brilliant. Only you would be kicked out for being too good at something!" Andrew held a hand over his mousey hair. "Let's go inside before we're soaked."
James felt his phone buzz as they walked the stone steps to the front doors and he pulled it out just enough to view the text.
Kara: You don't seem like the distracted type.
He balked at her comment and pocketed the phone. She was right, he didn't get distracted, hence why he was so bothered.
"I told you, you weren't going to learn a thing." Garrett waved his finger at him as James stepped onto the marble floors of the entry way.
Millie was there, tapping her foot with her arms crossed. "It was a complete waste of ten thousand pounds. I hope you feel good about yourself."
James narrowed his eyes at his aunt. "Take it out of my inheritance." He put a finger to his forehead. "Oh wait, you're living off that, aren't you?"
"James, enough." Garrett's light tone had been replaced with a cold crease of his brow.
"Right, not funny." He pulled his light sports jacket off and waited in front of his aunt and uncle as Andrew and his sister walked inside.
Millie wiped her annoyance from her face and hugged him. "We're so glad you're back."
James was about to chuckle when his cousin knocked into him from behind. "How about some beer, Jim?"
"No, no!" Millie shook her head. "I planned a dinner."
"What for?" James played dumb, glancing around at his stiff family who stared back in response.
"For your homecoming!" Millie snapped.
"Mm." James forcefully smiled. "I'm a bit tired. Rain check maybe." He walked toward the stairs.
"It's a four course meal, James!"
"Jesus, I'm joking." He turned with one foot on the carpeted horseshoe staircase. "Ten minutes."
"Five!" Millie affirmed and walked out of the hall before he could argue.
He jogged the stairs before anyone could say another word to him and found salvation in his dark and somewhat cold bedroom. With a sigh, he chucked his coat to a nearby chaise and flipped on the lights.
The spacious room, filled with childhood mementos and pictures, brought him comfort and he sat on his bed to reap that contentment. Though nothing brought peace to his mind like when he pulled his phone out to answer her text message.
I thought so too, apparently I can become overly distracted. My aunt's planned an extensive meal, but all I want to do is sleep. He typed another sentence but deleted it and sent the message as is, finding himself staring at the screen in anticipation.
As the minutes passed, he laid down on his bed, kicking off his black runners to the woven rug below and falling asleep.
The sharp knocking at his door woke him in a rush and he sat, rubbing his face.
"Supper, sir." The voice of the house staff was soft on the other side of the door but his acute hearing picked it up just fine.
"Fuck me," he mumbled to himself, getting off the bed in a stumble. "Coming!" He tilted his head and saw the flashing alert light on his phone. Making his way out of the room, he found a pair of dress shoes and slipped them on, aware that his wrinkled trousers would not impress Millie even with the shined shoes on to help.
He flicked the message on the screen of his phone and paused to read it.
Kara: Enjoy your jet lag, Mr. Dray. I've heard it's rough.
Adjusting the hem of his long-sleeved shirt, the message captivated him. Being formally called by his last name at his age should have insulted him, but her entire text had done the exact opposite. Swallowing, he put his phone down on his dresser as he attempted to ignore the discomfort building below his belt. "Shit," he swore, exiting the room, knowing as soon as everyone retired for the night he'd still be up, consumed by Kara Heart.
#
Slipping into the quiet study, he shut the door carefully. It had been days of little sleep, constant text messages and unattainable thoughts. He needed to know the true ramifications of his possible relationship with her and he had to know now. That reprieve would come from one thing: knowledge.
He walked to one of the many book cases full of old and new scripts. He was after the older, dated ones and more specifically the documented Coven Law.
It had been many years since he'd seen the book, but he still remembered the day he had discovered it. His father had always let him sit in the study while he worked and one day the large, hard cover and leather-bound text had been left out on the oak work desk, spread open among the many other papers and pamphlets his father had dismantled. The well-used sixteenth century book was one of the only remaining books. It was property of Blackwell Manor and always would be; that was how his father had laid it out for him. Now he hoped Garrett hadn't stashed it away, though his uncle's interests with the Coven rarely revolved around the Old Laws.
Searching the shelves, he paused every so often to listen for any signs of an interruption. He didn't want to be explaining why he wanted to look at the book. For one, his aunt and uncle may get the impression he cared even a smidgen about the Coven and two, well, the information he wanted was somewhat of a taboo.
His dark eyes scanned the spines of what felt like hundreds before he found the textbook, leaning against a far corner.
He had to reach but his long arms made it simple and he pulled the dusty thing into his grasp.
It had seemed bigger when he was a child, likely because of his father's great interest in it. Kevin Dray had always had a particular fascination with the history and politics of the Coven. It was something James had enjoyed as well, until his parents' death. The correlation of his father's initiation into the Coven and his parent's accidental death was enough for James to want nothing to do with any of it again.
James walked to the desk, flipping on the small lamp so he could read over the table of contents.
His fingertip traced down the list of Laws.
Alpha-bloods; Generational Coding... pg 35
Burgherdom; the Secondary Class... pg 157
Coven Alpha; Trial, Initiation, Rule... pg 277
Enchanters; the Extinction... pg 1104
"My god, who cares..." he muttered. But he stopped suddenly when his gaze settled on the words he'd been looking for.
True Bond; Genetic Danger... pg 1578
It took him a second to gain the courage to flip the pages to the detailed article on why he and Kara Heart were treacherous together. In the dog-eared pages were highlights, notes and book marks. He hadn't paid any particular attention to them when he'd been young, but suddenly there was something nostalgic about looking over his father's handwriting. When he found the correct page there was a folded piece of paper and before he even began to read the text he read the script on the ripped note.
The ability to persevere through a True Bond is strength, but weakness against the instinct is the absolute test. Vulnerability is the enemy.
There was no name claiming the note but it looked nothing like his father's neat writing and at the bottom was the date, marking its creation much before his birth. His father had kept it for a reason, and so would he. Clutching the note between his index finger and thumb, he read the actual text written by the Coven...
TRUE BOND: Two genetically-coded matches that drive primal instinct into a strengthened bond, making the bonded partners inseparable. When consummated together with a scar, the bonded partners will experience heightened senses, prolonged stamina and sometimes elevated vitality. The most obvious sign of a True Bond is their ability to communicate through linked thoughts up to several hundred miles from one another.
No two bonded couples are the same and studies have proven each couple gains different assets. In circumstances with generational Alphas, males have shown increased muscle mass and a greater advantage over other contending Lycan if put in an unavoidable fight scenario.
Documented history has provided us with the information that Alpha-blooded males who were with a correctly bonded partner were able to take Coven Alpha far more easily and unfairly. Also noted are the males' uncanny dominance and shortened tempers. These genetic codes can be far more dangerous than even old world Demon. When bonded correctly, the partners possess irrational mannerisms that in the wrong hands could destroy our social creation and structure.
The uncontrollable drive(s) True Bonds possess makes them deadly not only to themselves but our Lycan race. With the help of genetic tests and population control, The Coven has been able to eradicate the gene that produces the unwanted True Bond, making the world more civil and promoting equality among Lycan, both Elite and Burgherdom.
James slammed the book, forgetting to be quiet and succumbing to his normal temper. The dangers outlined in the script made him uneasy, but what troubled him most was the prospect of never having her. He wasn't sure he could pull away from something that made him feel so complete. Sitting at the old oak desk, he rubbed his forehead and looked to the crumpled piece of paper between his fingers. He folded the old note in half and pocketed it. Perhaps it meant nothing, but he felt the need to keep it. Everything about Kara pleased him. He would have to find a way to overcome instinct in order to preserve their innate bond.
~ to be continued...
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