The Eye of the Wolf (16 page)

“I worked more on the translation of the diary
today.” Mikayla’s voice floated across the night air. “It seems that Malachi
was very nervous about the people who inhabited the island prior to his
family’s arrival.”

Will looked off into the water. “Really?”

Mikayla nodded and her voice picked up pace like it
always did when she was excited and had discovered something new. “According to
the entry I was translating today, Malachi was concerned about the way the
Crusaders had taken the island and then built the Secluded City.” She pushed a
windblown tendril from her mouth. “Apparently, there was some sort of rebellion
during his father’s time so that would be during the reign of Richard. The
rebellion was quite costly for the royal family and its followers.” Mikayla
stopped and watched the water lap at her feet. The diary had concerned her; if
her translations were correct, the history of Amor wasn’t as sunny as
historians had written for the past 900 years.

Will pushed her hair from her face and tipped her
chin so that he could see into her eyes. They were thoughtful and confused.
“What else did it say?”

          Mikayla moved her
head away and began to walk again. “That was as far as I got. Malachi did
mention earlier in the diary the death of his grandfather, Henry. Malachi
expressed concerns about the way Henry died.” She looked up at Will. “Do you
know anything about Henry’s death? I haven’t been able to find any reports
other than ‘natural causes’.”

          Will grinned.
“Well, I don’t know what historians have said, but I do know that folk lore
around here reports that he was butchered.” He turned Mikayla so that she faced
the tall walls of the Secluded City in the distance. The gray stone of the
walls rose out of the darkness like the white cliffs of Dover. He pointed to
the guard tower where a light glimmered faintly like a beacon. “You see that
parapet and the guard tower with the light?” When she nodded, he leaned in
close so that his breath was warm against her neck and fluttered the hair
surrounding her ear. A tingle ran down her spine at the intimate contact. His
voice was soft, a whisper above the sounds of the rolling waves. “They say that
Henry walks the parapet each night looking for vengeance for his death. He
lights the fire in the guard tower as a signal to his murderer to come and
meet. When that murderer does come, Henry will seek his final revenge and his
soul will be at rest.”

          Mikayla shuddered
involuntarily as Will wrapped his arm around her shoulders from behind and
rested his chin on his crossed arms.

          His words were
warm against her neck. “Are you cold, Luv?”

          Mikayla shook her
head and moved away from the intimate embrace. She flashed him a brilliant
smile that left him breathless. “No, I just don’t care for ghost stories.”

          Will took her hand
again and ran a thumb across her knuckles before walking further down the beach
in the direction of her house. “Isn’t the study of history really just a study
in ghost stories?”

          Mikayla
straightened her posture and disengaged her hand. “Of course not!” Her tone was
sulky, and she crossed her arms across her breast in a defensive posture. “The
study of history is a study of people and places, of the past. Ghost stories
are told over camp fires to children to scare the wits out of them.” She looked
at Will in the darkness through a layer of lashes. “There is a huge
difference.”

          Will rolled his
eyes. “Oh, of course!” When she smacked his shoulder with her sandals, he just
laughed aloud.

          Mikayla scowled at
him through the darkness. Then, she shrieked as Will’s strong arms wrapped
around her waist and threw her over his shoulder. Mikayla’s sandals fell into
the sand as she beat her fists against the taunt muscles of his back. His
laughter and her shrieks echoed along the empty beach as he pounded into the
surf carrying her. Will ordered Mikayla to take a deep breath just as a huge
waved crashed over them.

Mikayla surfaced from the froth of the water
sputtering curses in four different languages. Will laughed again and spun her
in a circle, upside down, across his shoulder. She pounded her fists against
his back with little effect and ducked her head again as another wave washed
over them. When they surfaced again, Will swung her down until she stood
unsteadily on her own feet, light waves lapping at her feet. His laughter rang
throughout the darkness.

Mikayla’s curls hung limply around her head, matted
by the sea water. Her teal blouse clung to her skin and her skirt wrapped
itself around her legs. Her eyes were bright with laughter and enjoyment of the
moment. She pushed her hair from her face and tried to scowl up at him as the
moon peeked out from behind a cloud scuttling across the sky. The scowl faded
quickly when the moonlight caught a glint in his blond hair, shining silver
across the sand. Mikayla gave him a quick, light-hearted shove, grabbed her
sandals from the sand, picked up her skirt, and raced across the sand towards
her house.

          Her laughter and
taunts urged Will to grab his own shoes and rush after her. His feet slid in
the sand where hers were swift and light. He gained on her despite her speed.
Just as Mikayla reached the deck of her house, Will’s hand grabbed hers and
pulled her to a stop, hard against his chest. Her chest heaved from the
exertion and her breath was shallow. She looked down at his soaked shirt
clinging to his skin, outlining the muscles rippling beneath the skin. She set
a hand against his chest and felt the rapid pulse of his heart beneath her
palm. It raced like a thoroughbred. Fast and sure.

 Will linked their fingers in one hand and
gently caressed her cheek with his other. He inhaled the scent of vanilla mixed
with salt air. It intoxicated him more than the wine from dinner. His fingers
itched to run through her hair and dive into her, to fill himself with her, and
only her.

Mikayla tipped her head back and looked into his
eyes. They were stormy and mysterious but there was desire hidden beneath the
long lashes. His emotions were hard to read as his eyes roamed over her face,
her hair, neck, and entire being. Mikayla felt like she was drowning and hoped
she would never be rescued.

Will leaned in closer, inhaling her scent. Her eyes
were dark, deep enough to get lost in. Her lips trembled apart and a faint sigh
escaped as her eyes closed. He kept his eyes on her face, memorizing each
detail, from the soft rise of her cheekbones to the faint dusting of freckles
across the bridge of her nose. He whispered her name against her lips and felt
the warmth of her radiate into him, fill him. The tension knotted itself in his
stomach; his legs were weak. He had never felt this physical reaction to
anyone, had never felt this longing for anyone, and because of that, he knew
this wasn’t meant to be. He knew he wasn’t meant to get this close to anyone,
but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help falling.

Tenderly, he pressed his lips to hers. It was barely
a whisper of a kiss but it was enough to tear him apart. The scent of her
wrapped around him in a warm, welcoming blanket, begging him to come closer,
begging to revel in the heat of her. Her lips parted sweetly in compliance
though he didn’t increase the pressure of the kiss. Sometimes the sweetest
moments, the most luxurious and erotic moments were those moments where there
was control though he felt his control slipping away as her hand fisted in his
hair.

It was a whisper of a kiss and it nearly killed him
to not pull her close and allow himself to drown within her, to lose himself
completely in her and everything about her.

Mikayla ran her fingers through his silky hair,
fisting her fingers in it and praying she wouldn’t wake up and find each
moment, each sensation just a wonderful dream. She clung to him: his hand still
holding hers when her legs went weak. She felt gloriously molten, as though she
might slip through his hands into a pool on the patio. Warmth spread through
her and the scent of sand, salt, and man filled her senses until there was
nothing else but him. Waves ceased to crash. The wind ceased to blow. Clocks
ceased to tick. Time stood still.

Will trailed his lips along her cheekbones and jaw
line. They were feather light. Her skin was like the finest silk from China and
slid along his lips in a tortuous trail.  A soft moan escaped her lips,
driving him to near madness. And then, he felt himself fall over the cliff he
had been perched on precariously. He dove over, head first, not caring for that
moment where he landed or if he landed. His breath shortened and a pain shot
through his chest as he struggled for purchase. He was falling.

Time began to tick. Waves came back into focus and
the wind shifted her hair to brush softly against his cheek. A clock somewhere
struck midnight.

Will tore away from Mikayla and stepped off the
porch into the darkness. He refused to look back even when she meekly called
his name; her voice breathless and startled. He disappeared into the darkness
that surrounded the house. His silhouette fading into nothingness. He
disappeared into the darkness that surrounded his life, his heart, and his
needs.

Mikayla’s eyes flew open as he let go of her hand
and stepped off of the patio. Confusion flew across her face along with myriad
of other emotions. Finally, a wall closed over her features as he disappeared
into the darkness of the night. Her heart thundered in her breast, and her
breath hitched as realization dawned that he had walked away when she had been
prepared to open the door and allow him inside, not just inside her home but
inside her life and possibly her heart. She had never allowed anyone to get
that close, not even the man she had intended to marry. She was falling. She
could feel it. She had stepped off of the cliff knowing there was nothing there
to catch her, nothing safe at the bottom. She had jumped off while in his arms
praying that he would catch her but willing to take the chance that he
wouldn’t. Falling without reaching for the net, without reaching for safety.
Falling eternally until she had reached the bottom with a thickening thud in
the pit of her stomach. Falling without really knowing the man.

Mikayla watched his silhouette disappear into the
darkness before pushing open the door to her house. She closed it behind her
and leaned against the sturdy wood for support. She rubbed a hand over her
heart to soothe the pounding away. A single tear rolled down her cheek before
she wiped it away impatiently.

It was silly, she thought. She had only known him
for a month. She had been engaged up until two months ago to another man. It
was silly to believe that this man, this man who had come from nowhere, could
possibly be the love of her life. It was silly to believe that love was
possible. People needed to know each other for a long time to get to know one
another before they could fall in love. This wasn’t possible. This was some
silly island created euphoria, romantic ideal that didn’t fit her personality
or her plan for life. But just because it was some silly dream didn’t mean his
rejection hurt any less than if it hadn’t been imagined. But it certainly
hadn’t felt silly. It had felt painfully real. Painfully wonderful. Her lips
still trembled from the kiss, proving that it had been real, even if just for
that moment in time.

Mikayla flipped the lock and climbed the stairs to
the rooms above. She reached for the phone and dialed a number she knew by
heart. She suddenly realized that she needed Carolyn, her best friend since
college. Her mentor in a world that didn’t fit with modern society.

She listened to the buzzing of the phone across an
ocean, picturing Carolyn’s apartment in New York. The creamy walls mutely lit
from recessed lighting designed to showcase the antiquities in their glass
cases, protected from the air but designed to be treasured. Carolyn Shuler,
with her deep brown hair and deeper brown eyes was a treasure in herself. She
had, as a graduate student at Boston College, taken a shy, gawky undergraduate
under her wing and showed her how thrilling the discovery of ancient artifacts
could be. She had shown Mikayla the romance of history when it was studied and
lived. Carolyn had become more during those three years of studies than just a
mentor, but a trusted advisor.

Mikayla grinned as Carolyn’s voice floated over the
miles between them. “Hey, Carrie!”

Carolyn laughed with delight, warming Mikayla to the
bone. “Well, it is almost as if magic had happened. I was just thinking of
you.” Static crackled in her ear. “How are you, Dear?”

Mikayla suddenly felt herself overwhelmed with homesickness,
missing her friends, her family. Missing the world she had known, not this one
where she didn’t know where to turn or what to do. She choked back the tears
that swamped her, knowing that crying on Carolyn’s shoulder would do no good,
even though it was what she wanted more than anything. “Amor is amazing,
Carrie! It is so warm and beautiful. I’m sure the snow of New York is just as
warm.”

Carolyn laughed over the lines. “Very funny! We just
had a huge blizzard yesterday. They are still trying to clean up the side
streets. I envy you in your tropical research station.” There was a pause and
laughter filled Carolyn’s voice. “Do you by any chance need any help?”

Mikayla paused. Was this why she had called? She
hadn’t known she was calling Carolyn until her fingers had dialed the number.
She hadn’t known how much she needed a friend who knew her inside and out. She
knew the need of a research assistant wasn’t why she had called. She had called
because of those intense feelings for Will that she couldn’t control and the
feelings of rejection that she had been left with when he had walked away. She
took a deep breath, prepared to tell Carolyn that she wasn’t in need of
anything, just homesick, when Carolyn’s voice interrupted her thoughts.