Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (7 page)

Chapter
9

Overwhelmed

Tastes like: Chocolate
sauce over peppermint crisp tart.

Smells like: Too much
aftershave.

Sounds like: The cacophony
of voices on the stock exchange floor.

Feels like: A cashmere
polo-neck too tight around your neck.

Looks like: A rock-star
amid paparazzi.

The room has begun to tilt. I need to sit down, breathe
and give my body and mind a moment to catch up with what’s happening – with everything
that
has happened
the past few days
since my birthday. I take a step back and feel my chair against the back of my
knees but before I can sink down onto it, I hear another chair scrape against
the floor on the opposite side of the horse-shoe and look up.

My eyes meet
his
and for a moment, time seems to stand still and I forget to breathe. There is
something so familiar about the golden-haired young man, who stares at me as he
glides panther-like across the floor. He stops on the other side of the table
that separates us and leans forward slightly, his eyes locked on mine.

‘Can I see it?’ he whispers. His voice is like a touch,
silky and smooth, cultured with a hint of Irish accent. He doesn’t specify what
it
is, but I know. Of its own accord,
my hand moves to lift my crochet shirt and cami, just high enough to expose the
grey butterfly. In the distance, I hear a gasp and soft murmurs, but all I see
is the beautiful man before me.

‘Beautiful’ is perhaps an understatement. He is a
billboard for the
Levi
jeans that
cling to his narrow hips and the
Calvin
Klein
t-shirt that hugs his sculpted chest. He has the same small frame
that everyone here possesses, but somehow, on him, it is charming instead of
weak. I lean toward him, so close that I can see every long, black eyelash that
frames his aqua green eyes and every hazel speckle dotting his irises. He
smells strongly of expensive men’s cologne and everything about him makes me
think of old money and university fraternities.

He holds my gaze a moment longer, drops it to my stomach
and stretches his left hand over the desk between us. His fingers hover for an
agonizing second above the butterfly marking, and then his skin touches mine. His
fingertips are like sunshine on my skin, soaking into every pore, sending tiny
ripples through my body, from the point of contact, to my right hand wrist and
back again. My mind is telling me to step back, to put some space between
myself and this stranger but my body strains toward him, attracted by some
unseen force.
 

Then he drops his hand and I want to cry out at the
emptiness that settles in the pit of my stomach. His eyes darken as he lifts a
reverent gaze to mine.

‘
Mo cheannsa
,’
he whispers.

With effort, I drag my eyes from his and give Nan a
questioning look. She stares between the young man and me, and I am suddenly
aware that everyone is watching this strangely intimate exchange. I yank down
the hem of my shirt, cheeks blazing.

‘Shaylee,’ Nan says, breaking into a pleased smile. ‘This
is Tristan. Your betrothed.’

‘Excuse me?’ Nan’s words are like ice on my skin, dulling
any lingering warmth from Prince Charming’s fingertips. I’ve heard wrong again.
She couldn’t have said ‘betrothed’. The very word itself is archaic and
couldn’t possibly have any place in this day and age, let alone in my teenage
life.

‘Tristan is your fiancé, Shaylee,’ Nan repeats. ‘You
have been blood promised.’

My gaze shoots from Nan’s serious expression to the man
in front of me who has suddenly lost the irresistible appeal of moments ago.
The room moves again and I feel a hard knot of nausea at the base of my throat.
 

‘This is a joke, right?’ I say, trying to focus on Nan’s
hazy features.

She looks a little uncertain for a split second and her
eyes flit from me to
Tristan
, but she
gives her head a tiny shake.

‘Give him a chance Bluebell, within a few days you’ll be
hopelessly in love with him just like your mom and dad.’ I jerk at the
revelation but Nan doesn’t seem to notice. ‘You are the chosen one. You will be
married to Tristan and fulfill the prophecy. Your virgin’s blood will bring
power and immortality once again to our kind.’

 
Just like mom and
dad? In love in a few days? Immortality?
Virgin’s
blood
?

‘Prophecy?’ I say, ‘I don’t know what on earth you’re
talking about Nan, but I will
not
be
marrying anyone. I mean – it’s just ridiculous. I don’t even know this man.’ My
heart is racing now and the room is not just tilting on its axis anymore, it’s
doing full sun-rotations.

‘Calm down Shaylee,’ Nan says, giving me a funny look, ‘you’re
over-reacting -’

‘Over-reacting?’ I’m gesturing wildly now and my voice
is high-pitched and fast, but I can’t seem to stop myself. ‘I’m seventeen! How
can I – get – married - I’m - not…I’m – not…’ My mind has switched from flashing
red lights to drifting and I’m suddenly gasping for breath. I can barely make
out Nan’s face anymore, let alone form a coherent thought.
 
 

‘Shaylee!’ Nan says. Her voice sounds alarmed but
distant as the room starts to spin violently. There is a low buzzing in my ears
and then nothing…

When I wake, it is to the feel of strong arms around me,
a chest that pillows my cheek and a heart that beats a steady rhythm against my
ear.
He
smells different from the
Prince Charming whose fingers feel like sunlight on my skin. This savior smells
like my favorite place beneath the old oak tree. I turn my face into his chest
and take a deep breath; of rain, dirt, mint, musk and life.
 
 
 

If I open my eyes
, he will put me down. I’ll have to stand on my own two feet and face
the mortifying fact that I just fainted in front of bunch of strangers.
If I open my eyes
, I’ll meet my
savior.
 

The gentle cadence of his gait changes, my knight
adjusts his grip around my knees and back, and lowers himself down onto
something. As he settles me into his lap, my wrist brushes against his and a
stream of electricity races from his skin into mine.

We both inhale sharply and my eyes flash open and lock
on his. We stare at each other in shock, unaware of anything but the sparks
that seem to be charging the air between us. My right wrist is hot and
throbbing and I know he feels this too, because he quickly slips his hand out from
mine and gives it a little shake, like he’s been electrocuted.

The heat dulls with the loss of contact, but continues
to hum along my veins in a quiet melody. Neither of us speaks and a strange, gooey
warmth fills me as I look into his striking eyes. It’s not the hue of the
green-grey irises that rivet me, but rather the storm that seems to brew in
them. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, this boy’s soul is haunted.

My knight speaks, his mint-musk scented breath stirring
the tendrils at my temple. I don’t hear what he says because my attention is
diverted to his moving lips, crimson and full.

‘Shaylee?’

‘Huh?’ I mumble, and immediately blush as he raises an
eyebrow. I can’t believe that was the first word out of my mouth. I flick my
gaze to the tree beyond us – anywhere but
him
.
 

‘Are – you - okay?’ he repeats, perhaps for the third or
fourth time by the way he draws out each word.

‘Yes,’ I say, cheeks still blazing. How weak and silly I
must appear to him, first fainting and now unable to string even a basic
sentence together. I give my head a little shake, feeling angry with myself. I
don’t even know this boy – so why am I worrying about what he thinks of me? But
for some reason – I do.
 

‘Shaylee!’ Nan’s voice breaks into the space between us,
my rescuer jerks and hastily shifts me from his lap to the wooden bench, like
we’ve just been caught making out. The thought makes me glance at his lips
again and my color deepens.
Control
yourself
, I think.
 

‘Are you alright, Bluebell?’

Nan walks toward the wooden bench, which is still wet
from the recent rain, now soaking into the seat of my pants. My knight stands,
slips his sweat-shirt over his head and places it on the bench for Nan to sit
on. I stare at the broad set of his shoulders, at the muscles bunched across
his chest, at the wet circle blooming on his derrière.

‘Shaylee?’

I wrench my eyes away, focus on Nan and flush again.

‘I’m f-fine, Nan,’ I stammer.
 
 

‘Thank goodness.’ She smiles at me and I’m relieved that
she didn’t seem to notice the direction of my gaze. ‘I see you’ve met your
seastnan
.’

‘Huh?’ I say, realize what I’ve done and add hastily: ‘I
mean, what’s a
seastnan
?’

The word is foreign on my tongue but it has a nice ring
to it – like something exotic, from another place and time. Nan sighs and
reaches up to brush my ponytail back over my shoulder.

‘I don’t want to scare you, Bluebell,’ she says, ‘but
you need to know the truth.’ She waves toward the young man, who is leaning against
the trunk of a nearby oak tree, watching us. ‘Kael comes from a long line of
seastnan –
royal
Maor
bodyguards responsible for the protection of our family.’

‘Protection?’

‘Your blood is a great temptation, Shaylee,’ Nan says,
cupping a cool hand against my cheek. ‘Its promise of power and immortality is
sought after by many and because your blood is powerful, your aura is strong – much
stronger than any I’ve ever known.’ Nan pauses and traces an imaginary line
along the side of my neck and shoulder. ‘It’s like a bright energy field,
surrounding you.’ She drops her hand onto my shoulder and returns her attention
to my face. ‘Your mother told me what happened with your friend Luke. That is
just a small taste of what’s to come.’

I shiver and try to crush the memory. Nan notices and
her expression is deadly serious.

‘We can’t take any risks. You and Tristan must be
married as soon as possible.’

Chapter 10

Powerless

Tastes like: The vegetables
your mother piled high on your plate that were a prerequisite to desert.

Smells like: Chocolate cake
baking in a hot oven when your nose is blocked.
 

Sounds like: The pitiful
scream from a throat raw with laryngitis.

Feels like: Sitting in the
back seat of a run-away car.

Looks like: An infant,
bowled over by a Saint-Bernard.

‘You’re joking, right?’ I stare at Nan.

She stares back.

‘But I’m seventeen, Nan!’ I say.

‘The same age your mother was when she married your
father,’ Nan replies.

‘But…’ My voice trails away. There are a hundred reasons
why I shouldn’t be married now, but I can’t seem to think of one. I must be in
shock.

‘Shaylee,’ Nan says, squeezing my shoulder, ‘you’re in
great danger, you need to marry Tristan. It’s the only way to keep you safe.’

‘But how is marriage going to help?’ I ask, and watch in
astonishment as Nan’s ivory cream cheeks bloom bright red. She glances at Kael,
still leaning against the tree trunk and drops her eyes to our hands.

‘It’s not the marriage itself…’ she says quietly.

‘Then what…’ I stop mid-sentence and my cheeks turn the
same shade as Nan’s.

‘You have got to be kidding,’ I say, dropping my voice,
praying that Kael can’t hear, but knowing that he can. ‘But I don’t even
know
him, Nan.’

She sighs and looks up at me again.

‘I know this is all confusing for you, Bluebell,’ she
says, ‘but just give it a few days and things will start to make sense.’

Nan looks up at Kael; he meets her eyes and pushes
himself away from the tree. He comes to the bench and stands just in front of
us.

‘Kael is your royal bodyguard, although the word doesn’t
quite seem adequate. There is so much more to being a
seastnan
than just physical protection. The
seastnan
bloodline is as important as the royal bloodlines and can
be traced back just as far. Kael has many talents that will help him to protect
you, but it’s a two way street. You two need to trust one other implicitly. You
haven’t had the benefit of growing up together, as most
seastnan
and their charges do, but the bond is there, you just need
to nurture it.’

I think about the surge of electricity when my wrist
touched Kael’s. He’s not touching me now, but I can still feel the thrum in my
veins and in the tingling of the tiny scar on my wrist. Perhaps this is the
bond Nan is talking about.

‘Shaylee,’ Nan says, twisting her body toward me, ‘you
are not to go anywhere without Kael. It is imperative that you obey his every
instruction.’

The word ‘obey’ has a strange effect on me. I know Nan
is trying to protect me but I find myself rebelling at the mere mention of the
word. I’ve spent my whole life ‘obeying’ my parents. When am I ever going to be
free to ‘obey’ my own instincts, my own dreams, and my own ambitions?

I look away and give a short laugh.

‘Do I get a collar with that leash?’

Nan frowns and pulls my chin around to face her.

‘It’s no laughing matter, Shaylee,’ she scolds. ‘You
can’t imagine the extent of the danger you’re in. There are
things
out there that would think
nothing of killing you, or worse, to access the power in your blood. Kael is
the only one powerful enough to protect you from them. You need to obey him
like your life depends on it – because it literally does.’

There is such force behind Nan’s words that I bite back
the words that have slipped to the edge of my tongue at the mention of
that word
again. I swallow and give a
small nod, even though every fibre of my being disagrees.
 

Nan gives me a relieved smile and stands.

‘I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day, let’s
get you home.’

I still have a million questions to ask; about the
Maor
, about talents, about bonds,
prophecies and promises, but I’m just too tired to argue. I drag myself off the
bench and sway a little as I straighten. Kael immediately steps forward but I
hold my hand up. I’m
not
going to
repeat my embarrassing faint and I don’t need someone else hovering over me,
treating me like a pathetic glass specimen. I’m stronger than he thinks. I take
a deep breath and walk toward the car.

I am so completely beyond exhaustion, I can’t sleep. I
glare at the bedside clock for the hundredth time since midnight, give up and drag
the downy duvet over to the love-seat. I wrap the duvet around my shoulders, curl
into the seat and lay my head against the cool window.

The night is pitch black outside, with barely a hint of
moon in an overcast sky. Every now and then, the clouds part and the crescent
moon casts an eerie yellow glow on the fountain below. It makes me think of the
horrors that Nan hinted at today.

I wonder what kinds of creatures are out there, capable
of making a fearless woman look afraid. I wonder what things they want to do to
me that are ‘worse’ than death. I wonder how a boy my age can protect me from
them.

The thought of Kael, makes me sit up straighter and I
glance toward the hedge that separates our property from the next, where Nan
has told me my
seastnan
lives.
 
There is a light on in one of the rooms. Is it
Kael who can’t sleep? Why can’t he sleep? Does he feel my restlessness? How far
does this bond between us extend?

My head aches from all the questions spinning around
inside it. I feel a migraine coming on and the lack of sleep is just making it
worse. I bring my hand up to rub my throbbing temple, but in the process, I
catch sight of the tiny scar on my wrist and pause. It still feels funny – like
it’s alive with energy and the intensity appears to be directly related to the
distance between Kael and me…or
Tristan
and me…

Tristan.

There is something that pulls me to him too. It’s a softer
kind of siren song, like a persuasion rather than an electrocution. Is this the
‘blood promise’ bond that Nan spoke about? How exactly does the ‘blood promise’
work anyway and is Nan serious about this whole marriage thing?

God my head hurts.

I throw off the duvet and rummage in the bedside drawer
for the migraine pills I stashed there earlier. If I don’t get some sleep, I
won’t be able to function in the morning and I need to have a clear head when I
confront Nan with all these questions. I swallow two pills with a swig of water
from the bottle I always keep handy on my bedside table. Then I sprawl sideways
across the bed and wait for the medication to hit my bloodstream.