15
Last Kiss
Samara Callaghan stood over the well with her elbows on the edge, probably for the last time for a long time. If ever.
A single tear dropped to oblivion, never to be seen again down the dark hole; sign of the horrible things her heart now knew. She felt as though her whole heart had been ripped to shreds and thrown down into the darkness, never to see the light of another day.
She wasn’t sure how she was able to keep from sobbing, but she did. In only the short time it took for Kalahari to tell her who Danteous was, everything she knew—everything she was sure of—had been disintegrated into oblivion, just like that one tear.
She would never be the same.
Never before had she known a pain that cut this deep, not even the death of her parents; she didn’t remember them, she didn’t consciously recall her love for them . . . not as strong as her love for him, anyway.
His hand touched her arm as it has done so many other nights before, just before he would sweep her against his chest to greet her for the night.
She pulled away this time, refusing to even look at him. She couldn’t look at him; it hurt too much.
“Samara?” he asked. He sounded confused, maybe even a little hurt.
Keeping her teary gaze on the side of the well, she spoke, barely hearing herself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She heard him take in a deep breath and then let it out in a dismayed sigh, and she knew that he was aware of what she was talking about without having to ask.
“I’ve been dreading this moment,” he admitting quietly.
She didn’t say anything.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“I made a promise,” she whispered.
“One that meant so much you had to keep it from the one you supposedly love?”
Hearing the spite lacing his words, Samara was finally able to look up. She ignored the way his piercing eyes made her stomach clench, and glared at him.
“I barely knew you then.”
“What about later?” The look on his face was vexed.
“I didn’t think it was important!” she said desperately. “I didn’t know you were involved—Kalahari said you wouldn’t help so I assumed you weren’t interested!” She didn’t mean to raise her voice, but she wasn’t able to stop herself.
She was hurt by his tone, the look on his face; so accusing, so angry. She was already upset about all that she had learned. At least now she understood why Kalahari didn’t want her saying anything about the orb to Danteous before, even though he already knew of its existence.
She lowered her voice and added, “This was the last thing I expected, even though now it seems so obvious.”
“When did you plan on telling me?” he asked.
Samara laughed an acidic sound, sarcastic. “Don’t turn this around,” she practically growled through clenched teeth. “When did you plan on telling me you’re not all human?”
His glare was pulled to the ground. Guilt perhaps? Or shame?
“When, Danteous?” Samara repeated. “When were you going to let me in on the little secret that your father is not only a dragon, but the one responsible for the death of my parents?”
“You can’t blame him entirely,” Danteous said raising his darkened eyes to glare at her. “He didn’t force them to use all of their energy and kill themselves.”
His tone was frighteningly calm, the way he always got with others when he was angry, the tone he used to talk to the people they would meet.
He had never used that voice with Samara before. It added another stab to her heart. But she wouldn’t be intimidated.
“Yes, he did force them,” she growled back. “He wouldn’t have stopped his killing and destruction otherwise.”
“They didn’t have to involve themselves.”
Samara couldn’t keep her voice was rising. “So they were supposed to just stand around and watch as a tyrant killed thousands of innocent people when they had the power to stop him?”
Danteous’s glare became even colder, and he lost the calm anger. “He saved his race! He has always been there for his kind!”
Samara scoffed in disgust. How could he defend Cyril?
“Well,” she said, not alleviating the repulsion, “what a hero. Saving one race does not justify killing another, which is what he would have done if my parents hadn’t have stepped in, and they did so because they could when no one else was able.”
He looked at her for a long moment and she refused to look away.
Finally, he turned, his back against the well, and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, looking off into the distance.
“I’ve killed many for speaking against my father,” he said, calm again.
The knife already in her heart twisted, bringing another bout of pain. The tears knocked against her eyes, demanding to be let out.
“Are you threatening me?” she asked.
Again, he looked at her, his eyes cold as ever, but his expression was blank. They glared at one another for an eternal moment and then his eyes warmed just barely. Slowly, he shook his head.
“No. Not you.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, playing with the hilt of his sword, slowly rocking the blade back and forth, as he seemed to be thinking of a way to put his thoughts into words.
“I can’t stop loving you just because of a few new things I’ve learned about you,” he finally admitted.
Samara sighed softly, only a little relieved.
She wished they could go back to the first night they met and forget all about this.
When Kalahari sat her down just a little while ago, she never would have guessed that she was about to tell her that Danteous was the One they had been referring to. He was called the One because of who he was; no one wanted to say his name in front Samara before—at first, because they didn’t know if they could trust her, and then, because they didn’t want to hurt her.
He was who she would be racing and then battling to stop the release of Cyril the Black—Danteous’s father.
“How did you find out about me?” she asked.
He shrugged. “From the first night I had my suspicions. Why else would you have come here? This place,” he gestured to the house, “hasn’t seen anyone seeking the Knight Training in years. That was part of the reason I came back to get to know you. Only part of it,” he said when he saw the look on her face—she had been alarmed, that their whole relationship had been just a way for him to get closer to the enemy.
His eyes warmed again and she was assured that that had not been the case. Not that it mattered now.
“After the first week, when you told me your grandparents wanted you to learn self-defense, I ignored my feelings and forced myself to believe you, I guess because…” he hesitated again, “I knew I was beginning to love you, and didn’t want to admit you would be my enemy.”
That word hurt. She flinched, but he didn’t seem to notice; he was still talking.
“After that, I concerned myself so much with what Leela and Kalahari were doing about the orb that I forgot my suspicions about you. Until a few weeks ago, when you didn’t come out to me that night and I spoke with Kalahari. Then I knew; I could no longer believe my own lie.”
She had to admit to herself that she had always been suspicious of Danteous, too. His looks were suspicious enough. The reason for his silver hair and tainted skin was because of his dragon half. The meetings with the strangers—sorcerers and dragons in human form—had been because he was trying to find out as much information as he could about the orb.
She looked away as she asked her next question, not wanting to see his eyes if he gave her the answer she dreaded.
“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” she whispered.
“Yes.” No hesitation. His voice was hard, like he was insulted she would even ask such a question.
“Why should I believe you?”
“I’ve never said it to anyone before. I was . . . alarmed at first when I realized because I never intended to love you. That’s never been me.”
She wasn’t sure if she should feel hurt by that or reassured.
“That’s not really answering my question.”
“You can believe it because if I didn’t love you, you would be dead right now. I’ve known about you for a few weeks, if I had wanted to make this easy on myself, I would have killed you and not risked your interference.”
Crossing her arms, she leaned against the well beside him.
“So, what now? Are we supposed to be enemies?” She could feel his eyes on her.
“That’s up to you.”
She shook her head, becoming angry again. “Don’t put this on me.”
His voice hardened. “I have no choice, Samara. I have obligations to my father.”
“And none to me?”
“Love cannot be the only tool for obligation; my loyalty to him was destined before I even met you.”
She swallowed back the tears that were stinging her eyes. Was he really saying these words?
“I do love you.” He touched her hair, and she flinched away from him. He was disappointed at her response, but continued, “Because I love you, I vow here and now that I won’t kill you. But I will stop you if you get in my way.”
She clenched her teeth, trying to keep from screaming at him.
“Do you realize what Cyril is capable of should you release him?” she asked.
Danteous nodded. “It’s not my problem. I have to honor my father.”
“He won’t stop until he’s killed or enslaved every last one of us humans.” Her blood was boiling. Was he saying it wasn’t his problem if Cyril killed her? Leela? Kalahari?
“Come with me.” He blurted the words out.
“What?” She looked at him, startled. She hadn’t expected him to say that.
“He won’t harm you if you’re at my side. And I want you there, Samara. Come with me,” he repeated, grasping her hand.
It was tempting. The warmth of his fingers reminded her how much she wanted to be with him; how safe she felt in his arms.
But she shook her head. “No. I can’t turn my back on all the people he’ll kill, how dare you ask me that?”
“You don’t owe them anything!” He was angry again.
Her fists clenched and she couldn’t help but yell back at him.
“They’re defenseless! They have no clue as to what’s going on right in front of them! But I do! That makes them my problem, because I can stop it! And I will stop it, Danteous.”
The last part she said as a warning, a warning that even though she loved him, she couldn’t be selfish and let her own race—innocent people—die at the hands of Danteous’s tyrannical father.
He seemed to be losing total control of his composure. His fists were clenching and unclenching. His jaw was tight.
Almost violently, he reached out, snatching her around the waist and pulling her to him, closing the gap between them. He burrowed his lips into her neck, kissing his way up to her jaw, then to her lips.
She didn’t try to fight him or pull away. She wanted to feel him against her again; it could be her last chance. She held on to him tightly, one tear spilling from her eye.
“Don’t do this, Samara,” he whispered against her lips.
The choke of her tears was suffocating; she gasped painfully. When she spoke, she couldn’t hold back the break in her voice.
“I’m not doing this.”
“Don’t become my enemy,” he continued, laying his head on her shoulder, whispering the words against the side of her throat. “I’ll protect you, anyone else you want protected. My father will respect my wishes as long as you’re with me. Please, Samara.” He kissed her neck.
The glass broke over her eyes and a second and third tear fell. She cried softly, hoping he couldn’t see.
“I can’t,” she whispered back, regretting her words. She wanted so much to be with him. “I have obligations, too.”
She heard the disappointment in Danteous’s breath as he exhaled against her neck. His arms tightened around her waist and she clutched at the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life.
He moved his lips back to hers and she kissed him back desperately.
This was torture, and she felt it was only the beginning of a slow death. Her entire body, mind, and soul felt broken. Shattered. Never to be whole again.
That short moment seemed to last forever, yet eternity wasn’t enough when she finally pulled away, knowing they could no longer go on like this. One of them had to let go.
“Goodbye, Danteous.” Samara turned away, not able to look at him or wait for a response. She headed for the front door, taking quick steps.
She needed to get away. She needed to be alone so she could cry the way she wanted to, without him knowing.
“Wait, Samara,” he called after her.
She stopped at the door, but refused to look at him.
“Come to me if you change your mind; no matter where we are.”
She opened the door and went inside, not responding.
She wouldn’t change her mind. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t sacrifice the human race for her own happiness. Danteous had obligations to his father. Fine. She had obligations, too, not only to her parents but to everyone else that depended on her.
Once she was inside and safe with the cover of darkness, she fell to her knees, her back sliding against the door.
She sobbed with her face in her hands, hoping the others wouldn’t hear her; she needed to fall apart alone.
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OOC: Well, that's it for this preview. I hope you've enjoyed and hope you wish to continue the journey to the orb. There are a few things I'd like to tell you sooo, please keep reading :-)
What you've read just now is the first 182 pages of the first of two books, "Dies Irae." It is available here: http://lulu.com/reyannavance and is soon to be available at online bookstores like amazon.com and hopefully it will be cheaper at those stores. Let me explain: I purchased a retailer distribution package in order to sell Dies Irae at places like amazon.com and, for some reason, that shot the price up to almost double. I honestly have lowered the price as much as possible. Lulu won't let me lower it anymore. But there are a few solutions:
A. Once it's on amazon, see if they're able to sell it for cheaper.
B. I'm considering breaking the book up even more. Instead of having only 2 books, I want to break it up into four books. What you've read just now (the preview) would be the first book of the four. This way I can make the price of each book about 12 or 13 dollars...but the would ONLY be available on lulu.com. If you have any thoughts on this--if you think it's a good idea--feel free to send me a message, either on here or at rvance@rvances.com.
Well, that's all for now ^_^ Hope you've enjoyed this "little" preview.
