7. The Songbird

Tears are streaking down my face. My throat is raw from sobbing, anger, and heartbreak fills me to the brim. The rain is heavy, and lightning is frequent. I am in the heaviest part of the storm, which rages as I do.

I don’t know why I am so upset.

What happened to me?

What happened to us?

Visions of a man beside me, face wrapped in shadow. He feels ominous.

Dark.

Deadly.

Our tires lose traction and spin out of control. The car hits the guard rail and slides against it until we soar in the air. The rail then disappears, and without its support, the vehicle succumbs to gravity, and I fall.

Pressure across my chest, holding me to my seat.

Then it is gone.

Weightless.

Glass and metal twist around me until the water stops me from falling more.

Instead, I am sinking. I am begging for help. I am screaming for it. I am running out of air, out of time.

Pulling myself from the wreckage, my limbs are on fire, and my lungs are going to burst.

Darkness.

Nothingness.

My eyes flutter, and I see him.

Oz.

He takes me in his arms after returning me from death, only to give it to me again. But this time, this time he is there to guide me, to fill me with the blood of the immortals. To claim my soul as his.

I drink, taking in his essence, and I know him.

He clings to me, keeping me safe, and I hear a voice.

I hear his voice.

Mine…

It dances across my mind.

Faces flash around me. The woman, the man with the beard, the children… The other man tries to surface, but it feels like searing white-hot rage. I fight against that one. The woman fills me with the most happiness. I hold her image close. I can feel her arms around me. Then, the children again. I can feel their little hugs and hear their laughter before they let me go.

My eyes open, and it feels like my heart is in a vise.

There are people out there who care for me, miss me, and I don’t even know who they are.

I had hopes, dreams, and goals. My hands sweep over my stomach briefly, grieving for children I won”t have.

I may not remember my past, but something tells me that with all these kids I keep seeing, I wanted to be a mother one day. That chance is gone now unless you count making vampires.

Turning over on my side, I feel the tears come and let them spill. I have been so wrapped up in the magic of everything I’ve gained that I haven’t considered everything I lost in the process. A sob escapes me, and I lay there wallowing in my misery. I vow to get it together. If I am going to figure out who I am, I need to accept what’s happened. I need to face it head-on and not let it kick me around anymore. With my eyes dry this time, I repeatedly play the faces from my dreams in my head like a movie until sleep sucks me back down with it.

A knock sounds at the door. I open my eyes and sit up, I wipe my face, trying to hide any evidence of crying in my sleep. I climb from the bed and open the door. Oz stands on the other side. His eyes at first are filled with concern, but they shift quickly. Light dances in them, and a smile spreads on his lips.

“Wren, I’m glad you’re awake,” he stands with his hands behind his back. He’s already dressed, wearing jeans and a plain T-shirt. What time is it? “I was wondering if you’d like to go on an adventure with me tonight?”

“What kind of adventure?” I tease, narrowing my eyes with mock suspicion.

Oz leans in and whispers, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Too late.” I smile and laugh. It feels good, like it is pushing the sadness outside of my body. “But really, what do you have in mind?”

He thinks momentarily before raising one arm on the door frame and leaning into me. His whisper is much more authentic and genuinely secretive. “Without giving too much away,” I can feel the heat coming off him. I want him to pull me against him and press his lips against mine. There is no rational explanation for why I am so attracted to him. I just feel drawn to his entire presence. “I know a place nearby that I think you would love to see, but it’s a bit of a hike.”

A night hike? We are at the top of the food chain around here. A hidden place that he is sharing with just me? Excitement bubbles, and I let it show in my voice. “Sounds great.” I smile at him. “I can be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Meet you downstairs.” And with that, he pushes away from the door frame and disappears down the staircase.

I throw on something comfortable to wear. Settling on jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt, I go into the bathroom and gasp.

I can’t believe he saw me like this.

My hair is a rat’s nest. I must have been tossing and turning as I slept. Groaning and embarrassed, I hurriedly work the knots loose. I leave it down, happy it is at least tangle free now.

When I bound down the stairs, I find I’m not even thinking about the faces anymore. I have been pulled back into the magic of now. New experiences around every corner and all the time in the world to discover everything I want to know about everything. My first project? The mysterious vampire knight who rescued me. I want to pick apart his mind and see if he possibly feels this same attraction that I do. Maybe, just maybe, I can steal a kiss and see what those damn lips taste like.

He stands at the door, waiting, talking animatedly with Rolando. Everyone is doing their own thing, but I notice one person is missing.

“Where’s Charlee?” I am used to being mildly assaulted when I come out for the night, and it doesn’t feel right without her.

“Charlee is staying in Callery tonight.” With a nod, Rolando retreats to the study he is always cooped up in. Oz continues, “She’s going to get some supplies and bring back some food for the house. I’ve also asked her to look for news about you to see if we can get any information to help jog your memory.” I feel a knot of nerves grow in my stomach. “She’ll be back tomorrow night.”

I might know more tomorrow night. The thought is exhilarating. Oz opens the door and stands to the side as if to say, ‘Ladies first.’ I walk past him into the night, the scent of lemongrass wafting over me as I do. God, I love the smell.

We trek through the woods, with no trail or path to guide us, just Oz and his keen sense of direction. It couldn’t be me. I’d probably get lost just trying to find my way back to the house from here, and everything looks the same to me. “How long have you been in America,” I ask, trying to make conversation. Oz is quiet a lot, and I can’t very well pick his brain if he’s not talking. I don’t mind being the one to steer the conversation, though. With an empty mind, I have nothing but questions.

“We came here in 1586 and left about two years later, traveling south. We did go back to Europe for a few centuries and then spent some time in East Asia before returning permanently in 1985.” My jaw drops. It’s one thing to hear in the abstract about being around in medieval or colonial times but quite another to hear about more recent decades. I don’t know much about history at the moment, but I know enough that Oz and Leland were in America exceptionally early.

I need to see how much of this is in the archives and what I can dig up. I suddenly have a powerful urge to have Rolando show me everything he’s been working on.

My question opens Oz up a bit. He starts recounting tales of random battles he and his family have fought against rival covens or humans who were up to no good. From his stories, I am able to determine that this coven, this family, isn’t unique. Most vampires seem to be genuinely decent, but others are very dark.

“We keep who we are when we change,” he tells me. “If you were a good person in life, you would be good as an immortal. Maybe with a few less cares of simple moralities, but when it counts, you’ll be the same for the most part.”

“Would you say all of the vampires in our coven are good?”

His shoulders tense and it takes him a while to answer my question.

“They are now,” he says. “Long ago we had a wolf in sheep’s clothing among us. He did some awful things, and ran off before he could be punished. We never did get to serve out his just desserts.”

I shudder when I realize he means killing them.

There’s some sort of self made legal system among vampires though, and that comforts me. That bad people are penalized and good people prevail.

Am I a good person?

“Yes,” Oz says suddenly. Had I said that out loud? Stopping in front of me, I almost run into him, having been watching the ground, and trying not to trip on anything. I can see well in the dark, but it doesn’t matter if I’m not looking at the roots trying to trip me. I would think that being a vampire would make me graceful or something. Oz chuckles softly, probably laughing because I nearly plowed into him. “We’re here,” he says, gesturing to a dark opening in the rock face beside us.

A cave?

Did he bring me to a freaking cave?

I step forward and past him, eying the opening. It’s dark enough that even my super sight can only penetrate so far. I can hear water, various insect and rodent life thriving inside. My tense muscles relax. So what if it looks like where a serial killer would go to dump their victim’s bodies? This is Oz’s place, and if there is anyone on this planet I trust, it’s him.

A whisper in my ear sends a shiver down my spine. “I promise the view is worth it,” Oz is no longer laughing at me. It feels like electricity is passing between us. I could lean back into his chest and lose myself in him. The thought sends a spark of arousal to my core. “Let me show you,” he breathes, taking my hand and lacing his fingers through mine. I let him lead me into the darkness.

I’d let him lead me anywhere.

“I found this place ten years ago,” he tells me, his voice echoing. He leads me into the main chamber of the cave system. It isn’t enormously large, but the rock formations are beautiful in their own right. “It has six easily accessible chambers, one if you swim through the water and under that ledge,” he points to the far side of the cave. “And another that is pretty much a dead drop about fifty feet down,” he gestures to a crevice this time.

I look around, peering down into the abyss, unable to see past a few feet. It is so dark. I step over to the water’s edge. It flows gently. Water from above trickles down the walls, forming what looks like a small pond, except the pond doesn’t overflow. It keeps going under a ledge of rock, and I can make out the sound of the water lapping against the stone in its slow current.

Oz lets go of my hand for a moment, turning on a small lantern already waiting here. The light doesn’t reach too far, but it allows me to see a bit further. Going from seeing crazy far in the dark to barely at all is strange. I guess it’s because we’re never in complete darkness until we get into the depths of the Earth. He slips his hand back into mine and says, “I want to show you my favorite chamber.”

He sounds excited, and so am I. I want him to show me more magic, and that’s exactly what this place feels like. His warm hand guides me to a small opening. Letting go of me again, he places his hand on the small of my back, the gap too narrow to walk side by side. Can he tell how his nearness affects me? Is he doing this on purpose?

The next chamber is filled with various sharp-looking rocks hanging from the top of the cave and smaller patches of rocks growing up from the bottom. They look almost like teeth. I laugh to myself, thinking it is ironic that vampires were in a room with pointy rock teeth.

“It’s the next chamber ahead.” I turn in a circle and walk backward, craning my neck to look up at the spears of rock hanging down. Some are impossibly sharp, others more blunt or bulbous. It is truly mesmerizing. I turn back toward Oz, who is watching me with a patient smile as I join him. He likes watching me take it all in. This is his place, and he is sharing it with me. I wonder if watching me see his cave through fresh eyes is almost as good as seeing it all for the first time himself.

The next opening isn’t nearly as narrow. A steady dripping sound of water and the soft hum of insects breaks up the quiet. He sets the lantern down in the center of the room, but I can’t see the walls. It’s bigger than the other chambers. From the sounds of the echoes, it is probably twice the size of the chamber we were just in. “Sit with me,” he asks, lowering himself to the smooth rocky surface of the cave floor. I do as he asks, purposefully planting myself next to him. The casual touches, hand-holding, glances, and smiles while showing me his favorite place… He has to feel about me the same way I feel about him.

He doesn’t pull away, even as our arms brush against one another.

Oz reaches over to the lantern and turns it off with a click that echoes. “Now,” he says, his deep voice soft but no less rumbly than usual. “We wait.”

“Wait for what?” My voice sounds loud in the darkness.

“Shhhh,” he hushes, reaching for my hand again. I don’t doubt it anymore. He feels something for me. I don’t want to scare him off, but I am learning that I’m not the most patient person in the world. Still, I quiet myself, leaning against him. I tuck my head onto his shoulder. I feel him stiffen for half a second and then relax, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

It is so dark that my eyes can’t focus on anything other than him, but not wanting to move my head, I settle for just staring into the depths of nothing. Finally it seems like my eyes might be adjusting. This strikes me as odd, I kind of took the vampy sight thing as a one size fits all sort of deal. Things are getting clearer, though. I can see a stalagmite ten feet away, short and squat. A blue light begins to bloom on the wall beyond it, followed by dozens more.

I gasp and look all around. The entire cave ceiling and most of the walls are covered in little glowing worms. They are beautiful. Thousands of them twinkle against the rock like stars. “Dazzling, isn’t it,” Oz whispers, and I look at him. He’s staring at me, watching my reaction. His stare penetrates me, setting me on fire from the inside. I want to wrap that warmth around me, to give in and drown in it.

I brush my lips against his.

Oz’s hand quickly goes to the back of my head, holding me to him as he kisses me back. His lips are sweet, and I want him to kiss me everywhere. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, catching me off guard. Oz is so gentle with me in every other aspect, his sudden hunger is surprising. I massage his tongue with my own and moan into the kiss.

I feel his hands grasp my hips as he pulls me onto his lap so I am straddling him. He releases my mouth for my neck, kissing a spot just behind my ear. I can feel his teeth graze against my skin, and goosebumps cover my body. One of my hands reaches under his arm to grip his shoulder from behind, steadying myself. The other grabs his neck, my fingers threading through his thick hair. “Oz,” I whisper his name to the cave’s depths like a plea—a plea for more.

Our lips crash together again, and he pulls my waist as close to him as he can, pressing me into his body. My head is swimming, and his hands rove over my form, exploring. I can feel his arousal against me, and I grind my hips against him.

A groan escapes his lips, and his kiss deepens with a fierceness that sends fire down my skin. A large hand snakes its way up my torso, stopping at the curve of my breast. I long for his touch. I want to give all of myself to him, and I want him to take over every part of me.

His wandering hand moves upward as if he can hear the plea within me. He caresses me through my shirt, his thumb strumming against my hardened nipple. Breaking the kiss, I gasp, my head falling back.

I am on fire.

The world shifts as Oz leans me backward until I am lying on the cave floor. A hand gently works my shirt up my stomach. Feather-light traces make my skin prickle and pebble under his sure touch. Soft lips gently kiss my skin as it is exposed. When he reaches the peak of my breast and takes me into his mouth, my back arches into him.

Sensitive skin responds to every tease of his teeth and every lap of his tongue. Writhing beneath him, I want desperately to be closer. This is not yet enough. I guide his face back to mine, tracing lines down his back, lifting his shirt, and letting my hands explore his skin.

The taut muscles in his back are tense with excitement, with want. His shoulders are broad and well-formed from years of sword work before he was turned. Scars from before are barely there, whispers on his flesh. I want to explore them in the light, to kiss each one and hear the story of how it was earned. A shudder runs through him from my touch, and I’m pleased to be the cause of it.

I feel him press against me, the bulge of his want evident, he rocks his hips against me—a silent promise of what will come. I want him so badly. My hand slips downward, reaching and sliding past the waistband of his boxers. Gingerly grasping his shaft, I stroke him gently, massaging the tip of his crown with my thumb. He groans at my touch.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing labored.

Everything freezes. His hands no longer explore me. His lips no longer press against mine. He isn’t looking at me. My breaths are heavy, and my mind fills with confusion. Oz pulls away, my hands slip from him as he sits up, his eyes still not meeting mine.

“Wren,” he says softly, sounding distant and sad. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

Oh.

Rejection hurts a hell of a lot.

Pushing myself off the cave floor, pulling my top straight, and patting my jeans. The taste of copper teases my mouth as I bite the tip of my tongue, using the pain to stuff down the intense sorrow that is building in me. I don’t want to cry right now. And if the weight on my chest is any indication, tears are not far off.

I am angry too. I want anger to win out over sadness. I want to yell. Something primal in me stirs. It likes the feeling of anger. I don’t like that it is waking up.

That she is waking up.

I take a deep breath, wanting to hear him out. He rises to stand before me, still unwilling to look me in the eye. “Look at me,” I demand, speaking at a normal volume. He owes me at least that much.

The glow worms go out, and we are cast into darkness. Still, we’re close enough to see each other. He finally looks me in the eye, and his are filled with pain. I refuse to pity him. “Why can’t you?”

It’s a simple enough question, though my voice is stern and accusatory. The way he touched me, he felt something. Whatever is holding him back had better be damn good.

“I want to. God help me, I do. But without your memories, it feels like taking advantage.” Oz raises a hand to stroke my face, but I slap it away.

“That’s a stupid reason,” my voice is getting louder now. “And if you felt like that, why do all this? Why bring me here and hold my hand and show me your special place like it’s a fucking date?” I am seething.

His eyes widen in the dark, and his shoulders slump with defeat, but he takes it all while staring me in the eye. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

“Wren, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to lead you on. I want to pursue something with you. I just want to help you find yourself first.” He looks around the cave. “Bringing you here was a bad choice. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His face is pained, and against my better judgment I feel terrible for him, no matter how much I don’t want to.

I’m still pissed though.

Just not enraged anymore.

The thing stirring inside me simmers down for now.

I don’t want things to return to what they were before.

Can I stay mad at someone trying to avoid taking advantage of the girl with amnesia? Chivalry runs deep in this man, which undoubtedly influenced his decision. As for this “date,” I guess? I suppose he may not have considered just how fucking romantic the whole “glowing secret cave that I’ve never brought anyone to before,” thing would be. He said we keep ourselves when we become vampires. Will I keep these feelings when I get back my memories?

I trust that I will. What I feel for him is more than just a damsel in distress response. It has to be. I still can’t quite put a name on the pull I feel toward him, but I know he feels it too. That has to survive even after I get my memories back.

Right?

I close the distance between us, and slide my arms around his waist, pulling him to me in a hug, pleased when he doesn”t resist. I rest my head against his chest and close my eyes, breathing in his scent. Lemongrass and iron. His arms enclose around me, and for a moment we stand there, unmoving and unspeaking. It is one of the best feelings in the world. “We can’t just take it back,” I say gently.

“I know,” he whispers into my hair.

“What if we take things slowly? Set a hard limit for now, but leave our options open to explore our feelings?” I’m a genius, really. One day they’ll write books about my brilliance.

His hold on me tightens, “I’d like that.” I look up at him, and as the glow worms begin to shine their light once more, I close the distance and kiss him again.

Oz will learn. He can’t get away from me that easily.

When we return to the house an hour before dawn, I want to run an idea by Oz. I am thinking about going down to the lake, to the car, and seeing if that sparks any of my memories. It has been almost a week since the accident, and I still have no real memory to hold on to. I figure since breathing isn’t necessary...

“It will be extremely uncomfortable,” Oz warns. “I can go with you if you like.”

He presses his forehead against mine. Our limit is pretty much just sex. Hugging, kissing, and intimate moments like this are all well and good. He needs a firm line to feel better about the whole thing, and if it means we can continue to explore the feelings that are developing between us, I’m happy for now. “I’d like that.”

Kissing me softly, he lets me go up the stairs alone. Truthfully, I hope he will want to do the whole ”We’re adults and can sleep in the same bed without sex,” thing and then fail miserably at it, but he refuses and stays downstairs.

Smart man, being wise to my scheming.

But also stupid man, because I hunger for his touch.