****
It had begun to rain by the time Forest left the fair. Her mind churned with the news Tek had given her. She was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she hardly noticed when she reached the outskirts to her land. The rain had thoroughly saturated her, her hair dripping and clinging to her face. As soon as she entered her garden, all thought snapped off like a light switch. Unconsciously she held her breath and didn't move. Syrus was seemingly unaware of her presence, and she wanted to keep it that way.
She couldn’t have looked away if she tried. He was at the far end of the garden near the house, barefooted and stripped to the waist, his body moving in beautiful precision, sliding through the raindrops as though he were dancing with the storm. Forest recognized that he was practicing the Blood Kata’s forms. She had seen others doing the same moves, had even learned some of them herself. But now all of her memories of watching students or masters of the Kata seemed robotic and ugly next to Syrus’ liquid grace. Admiration and awe tainted with a swirl of jealousy. Discipline as beauty.
Then she noticed her sword lying on the ground close to where he was practicing. Outrage and offense slammed into her like a battering ram. How dare he?! How dare he use her sword?! And he left it on the ground! She would have been less offended if she caught him digging in her underwear drawer. A scream of rancor rose in her throat, but before she could let it loose, shock choked her silent.
Syrus stood ten feet away from where her katana lay on the ground. He lifted one arm, pointing it at the sword, all his muscles taut. What looked like ghost ribbons undulated from his fingertips. The ribbons wrapped around the sword and lifted it into the air. The sword hovered at arm height, facing Syrus as though an invisible enemy held it at the ready, beckoning him to fight. Astonishment rendered Forest immobile as she watched her sword swing through the air in a wide arch meant to decapitate Syrus.
He bobbed and danced out of the way. Her sword continued to slash and stab. Then it began to gain momentum, and Syrus drew both of his short swords and began sparing. The clink of metal rang through the air. Forest couldn’t take it any longer. She ran towards him as fast as she could and dove through the air, catching the hilt of her sword in mid flip. She landed flat on her feet and thrust the blade beneath Syrus’ chin. He lowered both his swords and smiled impishly.
Forest could feel the power that had been wrapped around her sword pulling lightly at her hand. The shock she felt translated into anger. “You’re file said you were a master of the Kata. Not one word mentioned you were a mage.”
Syrus shrugged, still smiling. “Not many know. Those that do are bound to silence that I’m alive at all.”
“No one in Fortress knows?”
“No.”
“Not even the high council?” She demanded.
“No. So are you impressed?”
Forest huffed. “Yes…Grudgingly.” Reeling from the information that he was a mage, her original outrage returned. “I told you never to touch my sword.”
Syrus smacked her blade away from his throat with one of his short swords. They stood facing each other, breathing heavily.
“All of my senses are heightened when I fight. I’m thoroughly warmed up, and you’ve been walking a long ways, if I’m not mistaken. What do you say?”
She was about to ask him what he was talking about when he lifted both his swords and bent his knees into an attack stance. She didn’t move, remembering what Kindel had said about fighting with Syrus. Adrenaline was building inside her, as she looked at him, poised and ready. She had fought and triumphed over many vampires, many skilled in the Kata, but this was a chance she had never had before: to fight a mage.
Forest took a step back and sank into her own attack stance. Syrus was right about his heightened senses. Even though he couldn’t see, she could feel that his physical awareness was greater than her own.
All the sounds surrounding Forest thundered in Syrus’ ears: her breathing, her pulse, the rain falling on her skin. He knew exactly where she was by the heat waves rolling off her body. His senses were turned up so high, it bordered on painful. The only thing that dulled his edge over her was the mental image he had of her. He saw, in his mind’s eye, the way she looked when she was asleep and now pictured that standing in front of him armed with a sword, and he was half crazed with desire.
Syrus was still smiling at her. “Don’t hold back. Forget I’m blind. Try and kill me.”
“Fine, but you have to try and kill me as well.”
“Agreed. En garde!”
They began circling each other, and instantly Forest was struck with the thought that her sight was actually a disadvantage. She was distracted by her attraction to him and the admiration that his movements were beautiful in their deadly precision. Blades flashed through the raindrops. The instant their weapons slammed into each other, she knew she had never crossed blades with anyone this deadly. She easily deflected an overhead strike, the blades clanging loudly. He was holding back, testing her level.
“Stop messing around!” she snarled at him.
“Glad you could tell,” he laughed while slashing at the side of her midriff.
She jumped out of the way.
“You’re not bad, Forest.”
She shrieked in outrage, making him laugh again. “Not bad! I’ll show you, not bad!”
Forest moved like a blur, bounding over the fountain in one long leap. But Syrus moved too quickly, facing off with her on the other side so that Forest had to sidestep clumsily, almost falling into the fountain and half twisting her ankle. Her wrists were jarred painfully over and over as she put up the most aggressive offense she could. Syrus parried her every strike, seeming totally at ease. She could see he was taunting her, and her rage kicked up another notch.
“You’re getting emotional, Forest.” Syrus said casually as he deflected her attempt to cut off his arm. “You’re losing concentration.”
Forest felt like she was back in swordplay class at the Academy. She had never fought anyone with Syrus’ skill. She knew he was right, but that made her all the angrier, and her swings became wilder. This in turn began to anger Syrus. He threw one of his swords at her head. The sound of it rang in her ear as it missed by a few centimeters. She knew he missed on purpose. Raindrops smacked against the side of the blade as she swung her sword in a wide arch, bringing it down in what would have been a killing strike. Syrus stopped her arm in the air, grabbing her wrist firmly. She tried to pull it lose. Syrus lifted his sword slowly and set the blade on her shoulder.
“You lose,” he stated.
She shrieked again in rage, angering Syrus at her soreness. He twisted the sword from her hand and threw it.
“I’ve lost some respect for you, Forest. I thought you were much more disciplined.”
Forest saw red, and she gave no regard to the fact that he was still armed and she wasn’t. She raised her arm and brought her hand down on his face in a stinging slap. Shock was plain on his face along with her handprint.
“Vampires! Always think you’re better than everyone else when really you’re the most disgusting race in all of Regia!”
Forest stood panting with emotion, astonished at what she had just said.
“That does it!” Syrus threw his sword and charged at her.
She scrambled backward as he advanced. His face was taut and his blind eyes were wild. She retreated backwards until she could feel the rock wall looming behind her. He stretched one hand toward her, and his lips moved in an incantation she couldn’t hear. She felt a pulling at her hands and around her neck. The next second, all the silver she was wearing went flying off her body and landed with a plunk in the fountain. He reached out and picked her up around the waist. Before her mind could think to protest, she wrapped herself around him. Their mouths fused together in a violent, starving urgency. Her arms clung around his neck, and her legs banded around his hips. There was one agonizingly wonderful moment as they strained against one another trying to pull tighter, both
their mouths throbbing as blood hammered through their veins. Then it happened. What felt like a lightning bolt cracked inside both of their chests, jolting their mouths apart. The pain hissed and flashed inside them but strengthened the pull between them.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered even as she clung tighter.
He buried his face in her neck but he didn’t bite her as she feared he would.
“I don’t want this,” she protested breathlessly, her words contrary to her actions.
He pulled his face back, his mouth a breath from hers. “What? You felt that didn’t you? You must have felt that! I want to find out what this is.”
He crushed his mouth against hers again. Her whole body was screamingly alive as he kissed her. But even as instinct had her clinging, demanding more, a stabbing pain bit deep into her scars and Leith’s face flashed in her mind. All of her muscles stiffened, and she pulled her mouth away. She fought to regain control of her body. “I…I don’t want this!” There's nothing I want more.
Forest’s lips trembled as she fought to hold herself immobile. She fought until her whole body quaked with the effort. The pull between their mouths was painfully strong. Syrus stood stone still, allowing her to move or pull away as she chose. If she gave in it would unleash a force within her she couldn’t account for. Insanity. Desire. Fear.
“Please let me go, Syrus. Please.”
A look of crushed disbelief fell on his face. Now he was the one who was trembling. He fought against his muscles as he forced himself to let go. Forest’s feet hit the slick muddy ground, and she ran from him. She ran to the gate and shoved her way through, and she continued to run. She paid no attention to where she was going; her body just demanded that she move. The trees clawed at her but she paid them no mind. Forest didn’t hesitate even a second when she reached the edge of the river; she dove right in.
The luminous, silvery water was comfortably cool, and it eased the scraping frustration in her cells as it compressed on her. She took one deep breath and slid beneath the surface. Forest pulled herself to the sandy bottom and lay on her back looking up through the water. The surface undulated lazily, textured by the pelting rain.
Relief washed through her, though her mouth still throbbed, forcing her think about Syrus’ mouth. A vampire’s mouth was the most sensitive place on their body. Kissing Syrus was nothing like kissing Leith. It had been intense, but her mouth was not at all harmed. Forest’s lips and tongue always bled when Leith kissed her. The comparison was stark. She had wanted to kiss Syrus; she chose it. She had never chosen to kiss Leith. Everything he did to her was an assault.
The water was such blessed silence. All she could hear was her heart, thumping in her ears, and she could cry without having to feel the tears. She would drown the part of her that longed for Syrus right there along with the insanity inside her that made her shed tears over the loss of the possibility. They could not be together.