So here they are: my deleted scenes. The ones which mean the most to me, that is. I spent hours perfecting them before the first major edit began, but I wasn’t heartbroken when Jessica Lowdon and I eliminated them. It’s a fact in writing: never-ending tangents and acts out of left field should just be removed. However, I did have a plan for them. I still wanted to share them with my readers. Deleted scenes are always my favourite bonus feature to watch when it comes to movies. I equate it to an unexpected dessert after dinner; the kind that lingers on your taste buds long after it’s melted in your mouth. So I thought to myself:  Why not have them for my book?

Keep in mind, as you read these scenes, they have not been edited professionally. This is just my own writing. You’ll also see, for many reasons, why these scenes needed to be cut or flat-out just didn’t work (maybe you won’t agree). In some cases, the emotional response was incorrect or out of character for that person, or a character appeared for no reason other than he/she wanted their fifteen minutes of fame, yet added nothing to the main plot. You get the hint. 

In the beginning of each scene, I’ll give you a short introduction so you’ll understand what part of Beneath the Surface it was removed from. A couple of these scenes never made it into the first re-write, I just had to get them out of my head and onto the computer screen before they slipped away forever. You will also meet a new character, who may appear in later books. Very exciting.

Enjoy!

 

P.S. SPOILER ALERT BEYOND THIS POINT!

 

This first deleted scene was originally the beginning of chapter eight. However, the story itself was too distracting from the main plot of BTS, and too lengthy; therefore, I didn’t include it in my first re-write. One day, I may the change names, add to it, and then publish it as a short story. 

 

When Katherine and I were younger, my parents took us to a traveling circus which had stopped in Edmonton. I remember, quite vividly, the dry, prickly feel of Prissy the elephant, the sparkly costumes, the clowns, the white stallions and the smell of roasting hot dogs, cotton candy and sweet candied apples. But it was the tightrope walkers who literally took my breath away.

            The stage had been set, the spotlights, waving like a set of windshield wipers across the jam-packed stands, and all anxious eyes were on a young woman clad in a glistening red, tasselled bodysuit, who was to make her way across a cable strung one hundred feet above us. Though brave, I thought she was completely out of her mind for thinking she could make it from the platform she’d been standing on, to the next platform, holding only a parasol. Nevertheless, she smiled, stepping out with absolute confidence; the crowd responded with pleasured hoots and hollers and applause. She’d made it just half way, when she turned around and began to dance to the music singing joyously from the speakers, then smiling back, teasing and curtsying to the man awaiting her on the other platform.

            The jolly music continued and I sat on the edge of my seat, screaming at her from my mind to please just walk to the other platform to safety; but no, she continued her performance, taunting us onlookers and her partner, who was just over twenty feet away. Just as the song was coming to an end, feeling as though I could watch no longer, I covered my eyes. I was dreading the Grande Finale, where I was positive she’d do something outrageous, and then my worst fear for the tiny performer came true: the cable snapped.

            Ear piercing screams and gasps echoed throughout the arena, and men and women rushed the stage to help in any way they could. My dad, who, at the time, kept his Industrial First Aid current, cursed vehemently and pushed his way past the lookie-loos to lend his educated hands. Katherine wrapped me in her arms, trying her best to shield me from the turmoil erupting below while our mother stood in shock, but I wiggled around Kat’s grasp. I had to find out if it was set up, or a serious accident.

            At that moment, Ringmaster Pierre ran to center stage, took out his megaphone and attempted to control the mass hysteria of bodies rushing down, bellowing at everyone to calm down in broken English. He kept repeating his message to the wild crowd, but it was so loud in the arena, I could barely make out his words the second time around. Dad had made his way down and been allowed to help undress the girl and assess her injuries, and Mom had the death grip on mine and Katherine’s hands by then, muttering words we were not allowed to say as she attempted to lead us away safely without being trampled. Only I couldn’t take my eyes away from the man who knelt beside the young woman he’d been performing with; he pressed his mouth to hers every ten seconds or so, while my dad pushed on her chest. The man then kissed her hands and her forehead, hugging her between kisses on her lips. And if that wasn’t difficult enough to watch, just before we made it to the stairway, he let out one chilling scream; the kind that sneaks up your back like an frozen fingertip and messes up the hairs. I would have been pissed off, too; stupid girl dancing on a string, making a spectacle of herself when she could have simply walked across. My dad, who’d already worked tirelessly all weekend, continued to press on the girl’s chest and bark orders at those who were standing around. If she was breathing, I didn’t understand why Dad had to keep pushing on her, but when I asked my mom, she said that the ringmaster was lying to calm the crowd. That Dad and the man beside him were trying to give the young girl a second chance. Dad came home two hours later, and didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the night. I kept hoping he’d come into mine and Katherine’s bedroom and talk to us after we’d gone to bed, but he simply opened the door at one point and then closed it again. The lights downstairs stayed on that night, and I didn’t sleep a wink.

            The next morning, Dad was reading an article in the paper that had been printed about the circus. I asked him about it, but he just sat there.

            “Dad… What does it say, Dad?” I repeated, tugging on his sleeve.

             When he finally looked up, puffy purple bags drooped below his bloodshot eyes. “Melissa, honey…” He sniffed and wiped his nose, then loosened his tie.

            Dad only used my full first name when he wanted my complete attention, and with not remembering another day where I’d seen my dad upset, I listened and waited patiently for him to continue.

            “This circus had some safety issues before. The young man, who was on the cable with that poor girl, wanted her to walk out with him when he realized the ringmaster fired half the safety crew to cut down on costs. Apparently, two months ago, a platform came down on the audience and a few people were seriously injured. The company’s getting a huge fine now, and I see in the paper here that the R.C.M.P are shutting them down.”

            “That girl’s okay, right?” I asked. Deep down, I didn’t want to hear the truth. I wanted him to lie and tell me she was fine so that my memories of the circus wouldn’t be tainted with visions of the beautiful woman plummeting to her death for the rest of my life, but I knew very well when he looked down at the paper once again, shaking his head. He was staring at her photo, front and center in the article, and then began to rub his eyes with his palms. She was a brown-haired beauty, full of life and energy, standing ecstatic and perfectly posed beside the young man who’d been kissing her; she was someone who should have been dancing in the Nutcracker ballet, not throwing her life away with some trashy circus. 

            “Why Dad, why didn’t she just listen to that guy and walk out?”

            Dad rubbed his eyes, then a tear sashayed down his left cheek as he replied, “Maybe she didn’t have choice…maybe she was in trouble and needed the money…maybe she thought she was invincible.”  He quickly snatched my hand at that moment, adding, “Second chances don’t exist, Melissa. Remember that!”

            Dad was right.

            And every time I’m reminded about non-existent second chances, or I run into the smell of hotdogs, barbequed meats and circus things, I feel like I want to be sick.

 

*********

            This next deleted scene happens toward the end of the book, just after Liss returns home from the bequeathing. Colin doesn’t show up at her house in the real story, Katherine just mentions that he stopped by. If he had actually shown up, it would have gone like this. I liked it when he showed up in the story; but yet again, it was too distracting from the main plot at that particular moment.

              

Two thumps on the hood of my bug startled me, and I dropped my keys. When I looked up, I gasped. Colin Mansfield was standing in front of me.

        Holy crap.

        Stay calm. You won’t do yourself any good acting like you know anything.

        For a crisp but warmer than normal January morning, he was completely overdressed, covered up by a thick, long-sleeve jacket and a touque. He was wearing dark blue jeans, as always, but what startled me the most, was his face. If I had walked passed him on the street I would have wondered who could have done such a thing; however, coming from someone who knew what went on last night, it shocked me even more. Caine had sent him to the front lines, too.

        Both of his eyelids were freshly bruised black, and his nose had a small cast over top of it. Slightly hidden by his collar, I could make out a few deep purple bruises on his neck, like someone had tried to strangle him—or thrown him. His icy blue eyes had lost their vibrancy. When I scanned him up and down, even underneath all his clothes, he looked about twenty pounds thinner. When he walked over to my side of the car, he seemed unsteady on his feet, like he needed to use the washroom, but I knew that that wasn’t the case. By the way he was dressed I could only assume that the injuries to his face were the least of his discomfort, and I could smell rust. Bloodied scabs, kind of rust. Not even his musky cologne could mask it. I couldn’t help  myself when I stared at him and involuntarily shuddered.

        “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Colin said when I couldn’t speak.

        I stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend the fact that he was actually standing in front of me after what seemed like forever; then I pinched myself, remembering I needed to act like I didn’t know what happened to him, and remarked, “Who did this to you?”

        “That’s not important.” Then he took a step closer to me, when he realized I wasn’t uncomfortable with his proximity. “I  just wanted to come here and tell you that I’m really sorry for leaving and not calling you.”

        I shook my head, and transported myself out of the past. It killed me, knowing he suffered, but this had to be done. He was a Vykhar’s son, soon to be a Vykhar himself, and couldn’t be trusted. I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and drove all sympathy I felt toward him into a small dark corner of my heart, beckoning the hard-ass to come out and show herself.  I really needed her strength right now, because I was about to soften and melt right onto the pavement. If that happened, I just might say something that would get me in serious trouble. Trouble not even Rion could save me from. I was also running out of time, so I need to make this fast. “You really pissed me off.”

        Colin held up his hands. “I know. I—”

    “No, you don’t know,” I interjected. 

    Timorous on his feet, he was shifting around like crazy, flinching and wincing as his bloodshot eyes became glassy.  “Melissa.”

     “Don’t bother,” I finally managed to answer. “I’m not your friend anymore, so do yourself a favour and get lost.” The harshness I served up to him really bothered me; but as long as I kept repeating ‘Vykhar’ in my head, I could hold my standpoint. At least I thought I could.

    “Please don’t do this,” he said, searching my eyes exactly how Rion did. My firewall was crumbling, so I bit my lip and held eye contact with him.

    Colin’s eyes burrowed into mine, and a weak fuzziness bristled inside of me. It was Colin’s persuasion, but it was very weak.

    “I can explain,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking…”

    “Stay away from me, Colin.”  I put my hand over my aching chest and grasped a fist of my sweater, narrowed my eyes and glared at him as I got into my car. I was a horrible, horrible person for doing this. I wanted to hear what he had to say. I wanted to comfort him. He looked exactly like I felt inside after I escaped from Kyle’s house. And I’d just treated him exactly like Katherine treated me when I first came back home. I’d have to contact him later; there was just no time right now. I looked at my watch.

    Crap.

    He held out his hand to stop me from driving away, but I needed to shake him. I was already late. Seriously late. Maybe too late.

     "Please, just give me a second,” he said keeping his hand on my door.

     “One second, Colin. I’m late for an appointment. REALLY LATE!”

     "My dad kicked me out of the house, and that’s why I haven’t been around—okay?”

    “Oh?” That was something I wasn’t expecting.

    “I have a new number, and I’m going to be living downtown with a buddy from now on, so I’ll text you with it. I’ll be around if you need to talk or anything.”

    “Sure.” I revved my engine and then Colin stepped out of the way. When I looked in my rear-view mirror at the end of the street he was already gone. I sighed.

    I hoped Rion wasn’t.

 

***************************

 

               Everyone, meet Rion’s ex-wharla. Not part of BTS for more than one sentence, but coming to another malion novel soon. Nothing like an ex-wharla to stir the pot! You can see how this scene just wasn’t going to work, so I’ve tucked her away for later. Maybe.  

She was the most beautiful malion I’d ever seen. She had much longer brunette hair than any of the other females I’d seen, her eyes sparkled a golden hazel combination I’d only ever noticed with contacts, and her violet cloak parted just wide enough for me to see her tiny little frame covered by a charcoal grey body suit underneath. She was still staring at me a few seconds later, like she’d been hypnotised, so I immediately looked down at my shirt, wondering if I’d spilled something on it and not noticed.

            “Melissa, this is Gynell,” Zuralina announced. “She has come here from the Asian Third for the bequeathing. Gynell has been a close friend of our family for years.”

            Gynell just sat there, frowning at her perfectly manicure nails resting on her lap.

Was there something wrong with me?

            “Hi,” I said to her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

            Gynell nodded, half-broke a smile, and then turned to Zuralina and muttered something in malion.

            “Oh, no,” Zuralina pleaded. “Please stay—Charlotte is going to do our nails, and then Lafe and Jordon are taking us above to play Xarfathens!”

            “What’s Xarfathen’s?” I asked.

            “It is like a combination boys chase girls, hide and seek sort of game. The cubshens play it, but the real version is way funner—it involves following scents and trying to mislead your mate or male counter-part. It is also sort of practice in case of emergency, but the males make it super fun for us, especially when we play in the forest where there are lots of good places to hide. Basically, you have to get from Point A to Point B without your male catching you. If he catches you, he takes you back to their designated hideout, and you have to stay there until the rest of the females are caught by their males, or one of us makes it to the other side. Usually the males win, but with Gynell playing, she’s super fast and can usually outrun R—”  Zuralina stopped suddenly, playing with her fingers, eyeing Gynell. Then she added, “Maybe, Gynell, you can get a few males to join us, then we can all play…you know?”

            “Sounds like fun,” I answered when everyone remained silent.

            When I began to play with my nails, pushing my cuticles back, Gynell whispered to Zuralina, glancing over at me, then she shook her head a couple of times.

Okay. Obviously this was about my being here. Maybe I’d walked in on a private conversation.

“You know what…” I said, “Maybe I’ll go…this is your thing, anyway. I don’t want to intrude.”

            “I will not have it.” Zuralina exclaimed. “You are all staying and that is final!”

            She sounded more like a parent in that moment, but it didn’t seem to work for Gynell, because she stood up, nodded to me with a more genuine smile, and then left the room without a sound, leaving the door wide open.

            “Just let her go,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about her, Melissa.”

            “What was the matter?” I asked. “Did I say something?”

            “She used to be Rion’s wharla,” Zuralina answered as my fingers caught my heart against my chest before it escaped. “She was not expecting to see you, and prefers to leave so that you are not uncomfortable. She was on her way back to her chambers, anyway.”

            “I had no idea that she was going to be here until Lafe mentioned it,” Charlotte added. “I am sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I did not think—”

            “That’s okay,” I said, slightly breathless. “How long has it been since he…?” Broke up with her? Or ‘kicked her to the curb’, Katherine used to say. I didn’t know the right term for it.

            “Over a year, but I think she is still sore about it…” Zuralina trailed off.

            I didn’t like the sound of that. I wondered how long they were together. What exactly had they done…together? I gulped. 

            “It’s totally obvious, Zuralina,” Charlotte confirmed. “Didn’t you see how she was pouting after dinner last night when Lafe was talking about Rion being away?”

            “Does she have another dharkun?”

            Please say that she does.

            “Two males have been courting her,” Zuralina answered, “but she is not showing any interest in them—or any other males who have tried, for that matter. Let us just say that it is not common for a dharkun to let go of his wharla. I do not remember the last time I heard of it happening, besides, well…you know.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “Let us not talk about her anymore. She is a lovely female, Melissa. And I know she will come around once she gets to know you. Just give her some time.”

            “I hope so,” I feigned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

            Man, was she beautiful. And athletic. And very slender. And way too polite. And a fast runner. And malion.

            And single.

            Everything I wasn’t.

            I wondered what she thought about me and my old jeans and ugly, overgrown, split  nails.  I bit my lip and folded my arms across my waist.

Was pretty stuff like that important to Rion? I knew why I liked Rion so much, but what was it that attracted him to me? Why me?  Especially when everything between us was so complicated.

           

Note: What could be worse than having a picture-perfect, elegant ex-wharla hanging around? A lot. A whole lot. Book three should be fun!

 

***********

This scene I wrote quickly, just to get it out, over and done with. I don’t do well with these sorts of things, and I tend not include too much detail. Then, after much thought about the rest of the series, I removed it. This past week, I gave it the time it deserved, re-writing it, as if it was to be included in the actual novel. It is the alternate ending to BTS. Still, I’m glad this didn’t happen; furthermore, Liss’s emotional response is completely wrong. Ramses, who is obviously still alive, also has so much more to offer us, and I really love him dearly. Unfortunately, I know him well enough now to gather he would have preferred it this way.

           

My feet slid and crunched along the week-old, solid snow as I walked next to Charlotte.  The rushing river poured into the lagoon downstream, and the sulphurous scent tickled my nostrils. We were almost there, and each painful step tightened the imaginary rope around my stomach. As we stepped from the dark thicket into the clearing, the morning sunrays were desperate to reach out to us through dreary, grey clouds; like fingers, their sprightly streams found the occasional cracks at long last and shone down with a sudden fierceness, shaming the current frigid temperature. I shivered, though I was sheltered from the cold by more than two winter layers, and a wool touque.

            The large gathering of Rion’s family stood in a great semi-circle next to the cliff, looking out onto the distant mountain range. Rion was first to spot Charlotte and I, and acknowledged our presence with a simple nod.

            “Let us get started before the sun sets,” he announced when we joined the circle.

            I stood close to Charlotte, who had made her place next to Jordon, furthest from the cliff; I wanted to be closer to Rion, but I didn’t feel I belonged at his side today, especially since he would be doing the honours. Even at this proximity, I felt as if I was distracting him. It was then that he held his hand out and met my gaze.

            “Pershavi, m’ebesha…” His glassy eyes blinked.

            I bit my lip as I excused myself through to the center, past those who had grown up with Ramses; I knew the malion comments were coming, but I would ignore them. After all, Rion was the one who needed and asked for me. I wasn’t about to refuse him. Not today. Yet as I walked past his relatives, they smiled; some rubbed my arm, some patted my back, and all with undivided approval. I sighed, and my speeding heart slowed. Finally, instead of the outsider, I felt myself to be part of them. Rasadian maintained his distance. I knew he would. His dissent with my decision to remain Rion’s wharla would never cease to exist, but I was fine with that now.

            We all joined hands, broadening the circle, then Rasadian placed two matching bright green and navy urns in the center. He returned to his place next to a family member I’d never met, and clasped his hands gently in front of him. Unlike Rion, his hands were steady, his eyes soft, his shoulders sunken. It bothered me.

They weren’t just a couple of meaningless vases.

How was he so…controlled?

What could be worse than your parent’s funeral?

Rion’s hands were shaky, his palms warm and clammy; the hair stood up on his forearms and sweat accrued at his sideburns. Or was the dampness the result of tears washed aside?

            “Thank you everyone…for joining us today,” Rion began, interrupting my thoughts. “My brother and I decided to wait a few extra weeks for this occasion, knowing we could all be together at this time, most importantly.” He observed the crowd, and then the mountain range behind us, before settling his focus on Rasadian. “This was what our havuyens decided together…  And even though it does not conform with what has been done with our ancestors, we…we must respect their last requests. After today, they will be joined in eternal life, and we can only hope that one day we will see them again.”

            I held Rion’s hand securely in mine, though I began to, involuntarily, lean on him for support.  Funerals were difficult for me, especially since Abby’s service; the overwhelming sadness radiated through me like a virus surging in my veins, but I tried to remain strong for Rion. If it hadn’t been for his hand, and him needing me to be the resilient one today, my knees may have already collasped. How embarrassing that would be, in front of those who knew Ramses so much longer than me.

             “We must always remember, there will be a fulfilling afterlife for those who lives have been purposely ceased in this world,” Rion continued, making eye contact with each and every one of his extended family members, and then me. “Ramses and Rosensha will be together now, at long last.”

            Everyone smiled and nodded their heads, and Rion squeezed my hand a little tighter. It was time. He hesitated for a few moments, then looked into my eyes. I knew he wanted it to be perfect.

            “You can do this,” I mouthed to him.

            Rion blinked at me. I knew he was dreading this moment, more than anyone else. It was the oldest offspring’s duty to make the last stage of the ceremony complete. Most of the time, it would have been to place the last of the gifts in the case before taking it to the tomb where all the past leighdurs of the Pacific Third rested, beside their sensakurus. But today, it was goodbye. Malions would never be able to visit Ramses and Rosensa in the great tomb, and honouring his parent’s decision plagued him with anxiety and insomnia, he’d even fought with Rasadian over it. Twice. To Rion it was just plain wrong, though to me, it seemed more about the finality of separation. He wasn’t willing—or ready—to let go. To be honest, when the time came to saying farewell to our parents, would any of us be? And how could Rasadian just stand so cool and collected over there? Was he even in pain over this? Maybe he’d grieved already. Maybe, in an effort to maintain his own dignity, he simply refused to show emotion in front of his family.

Rion walked into the center of the circle, opened the urns and held them up toward the sky. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes, then uttered a few prayers in malion. I didn’t look for a translation. Whatever he was saying was beautiful, and, indeed, would make his parents proud. With the address and approval from his family complete, at last, Rion slowly made his way to the edge of the cliff. Little by little, he poured the ashes out together into the water below, uttering a phrase over and over again as the ashes caught the gentle wind that blew. I turned to face an elderly female beside me, who smiled and began translating for me.

“Nearer my father and mother to the heavens,” she whispered. “Heavenly Creator take thee and join them for a time without end.”

            I smiled back at her, and she nodded.

            The crowd stayed for a short time after, each conveying their own goodbyes and well wishes for Ramses and Rosensha at the edge of the cliff before their departure. Rion and I were the only ones remaining when the sun began to set; Rasadian took off to wherever, failing to tell any of us when he’d be back, as always. This time, I wondered if it would be months, rather than days. Had he gone back to the sacred place he’d told me about, the place where he’d met his Twila?

            “It was beautiful, Rion,” I said when we were finally alone, sitting at the edge of the cliff, covered up and snuggled together under our cloaks.

            “I struggled with it, and I know Rasadian is still upset at me for almost dishonouring their decision,” he said, turning a pinecone in his hand, “but Rasadian and I disagree on a lot of matters. Lately, especially.”

            Wasn’t that the truth.

            “He is my blooded brother…maybe I should not quarrel with him as much as I do.”

            I shook my head. “You can’t help who you are, Rion. And he can’t help who he is. Just like we can’t help being in love.”

            His eyes flashed to mine, and he grinned. “I guess you are right, m’ebesha.”

            “How are you feeling?” I asked, after we’d been staring at the waterfall for what seemed like forever. He’d met with the Asian and Eurafrican leighdurs this past week. For one reason: us. Up until this moment, I knew he’d been too busy to talk to me about it, but I was also afraid to ask.

            He smiled at me. “I feel really good now, to be honest. My parents are in a much better place now, and I am happy for them. But we have some decisions to make.”

            I sighed. Here it comes.

            “They have given us a time limit, Melissa,” he said. “I cannot convince them otherwise—the verdict is final.”

            “We discussed that possibility before you left,” I droned, as a general heaviness overtook me.

            “When that time comes, our lives will be changed for the better or for the worse.”

            “I understand,” I said, taking his hand. “Tell me how long.” I had been waiting for this moment. I knew my time above was limited, but now I would know by exactly how long.

            He smirked at me, and I caught it. “One year. January thirty-first.”

            “Really!” I exclaimed.

            “Really.”

            “I thought they agreed on a few months?  How did you—”

            “I did not want to tell you before, just for that very reason. I wanted to make it a surprise.”

            I smiled and hugged him.

            “You are happy?”

            “Yes. Graduation, here I come!” A little more time was everything I’d hoped for.

            “You do not have to make the decision today,” he said. “You may even change—”

            “I’ve already made up my mind, Rion,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “I’m not going to live my life above if it doesn’t involve you, too.”  

            “Melissa, listen to what you are saying. I know what other humans have gone through when they were forbidden to go above. Some could not handle it—”

            “I can handle it,” I interrupted, holding both my hands up. Rion looked at me doubtfully, and I knew right away he could sense my lack of surety. Then I turned to him. “I’m not going to change my mind. I want you, and there is nothing else in the world I’ll ever want more—it’s what matters most to me.”

            “And you are willing to give it all up?”

            My eyes widened for a split second. “Well, Charlotte can still bring me Starbucks!”   

            He laughed and put his hand on my cheek. “Just think about it, okay m’ebesha? Do not rush. The world is a beautiful place, and I want you to see it all before that time. I fought hard to get you as much time as possible, and I want you to use it wisely. You are getting a lot more time than most of the others had.” 

            “Do I really have to completely disappear?”

            “You will be erased from the above world. A missing person that will never be found.”

            I took a deep breath. It was a difficult reality. No more shopping on Robson; my family; my mom; walks in park; hiking—gone forever.

            “I want you to think very hard about it.”

            “Couldn’t I just email or Face Time my family? Maybe I could just tell them I was traveling the world, or living in a foreign country or something. No one would find out… Then I could still—”

            He frowned. I knew what the answer was.

“There are very few spots in the world where we can be above safely,” he said, “but always completely hidden from humanity.”

            “I’ll find a reason.”

            “There is a lot of time, Melissa. And I do not want to be a part of your choice. This is something you have to decide yourself.”

            “I’m not changing my mind.”

            He met me, nose-to-nose, and hissed, “Your stubbornness is absolutely atrocious.” 

            “You don’t know the half of it!” I raised my eyebrow, completely distracted by thoughts of other things that were totally unrelated to the topic at hand.

            He pulled back. He must have sensed what was on my mind, because his eyebrows furrowed together. “We will think of a way—together.” 

            “Something that will let my family down gently…like university in Europe, or travelling…or something,” I added, playing with his long hair in my fingers. 

            “And then there is no going back, if that is what you want,” he said, running his finger up and down my spine, driving me mad.

            I took his hand away. “It’s what I want.” Then I turned toward him. “No more teasing…come here.”

            “Just one second,” he said, holding a finger against my lips.

            “What now?”

            “Just this.” He smiled, then gently lowered my head to the icy ground. “Close your eyes.”

My eyes closed, though my heart sped up, anticipating his next move.  He took my hands, then softly kissed my lips, but it was brief.

“Okay, open them,” he said. He was lying beside me, keeping one hand interlocked with mine.

“What’s the big deal?”

“Look Melissa, up at the stars.”

“Wow, there are so many!”

“But look at the bright one over there,” he said, pointing to his far right.

“What’s that one?”

“It is Fatum, the destiny star. Tonight, it is appearing for the second time this month—something that only happens once every thousand years.”

I smiled at him. “Very cool.”

“All right,” he said, rolling over to look down at me. “Make a wish.”

“Did you make yours already?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning down, running his lips along my collarbone. “But it is a secret.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes again. “Done.”

“That was quick!” he replied, kissing my neck and the square of my jaw.

“It wasn’t hard.”

“Do not tell me…maybe then it will come true.”

“I hope so,” I said excitedly, raising my eyebrows a few times.

He leaned down as I tilted my mouth up to meet his. He kissed me with the intensity I’d been waiting a week for, and I immediately sensed he’d missed me much more than I missed him by the way his heart thundered against my chest as he crushed us together.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell you?” I asked.

“Positive,” he said, “Let it happen—that is the way of fate.”

I didn’t answer him. I love my family and friends, but this is the rest of my life—there is no one else I see in my future but Rion. So tonight, I decided not to wish for myself; instead, I thought for Rion. That one day, somehow, somewhere, he could live above with me, rather than me living below with him. For that to happen, he would almost have to be human (which only happen in fairy-tales, not real life). Realistically, we’d have to live somewhere no one could ever find us.

Was there even such a place?

I took one last glance at Fatum and closed my eyes.

The future will tell.

 

 

**********

For those of you out there who want to know, this particular scene is part of what took me so long to get these deleted scenes out to you all.

This is the hardest scene I’ve ever had to write. At just under one hour to get it onto the computer so long ago, I wished, at the time, I’d been a sharper, swifter typist. I wanted it out of my head. Last month, I read it again for the first time since 2010, knowing it needed tweaking before I gave it to the world, and knowing it would have the same effect on me: another haunting I wished not to have. I’m never prepared for the disturbing sleepless nights it laces on me.

This was the very first scene to enter my mind when BTS became the story it is today, and not just nameless voices bantering back and forth in my head. I had months of recurring nightmares about this scene; so many times, it began to feel like deja-vu in later months. Even so, when the time came to write it down, I bawled my eyes out. Things like this happen every day in real life, and, for me, the shock of it—or any fatal accident I am made aware of—never ceases to exist. It took me three weeks to decide whether or not to include this here; not just because of the content, but because Rion doesn’t like me prying into the many traumatizing events of his past. In fact, he nearly refuses in some cases. I believe—no, I know—he has many more things he’s keeping secret, because he knows how sensitive I am and he’s probably just sheltering me from further sleepless nights. Originally, this was to be the last and final chapter of the very last book, yet the more I thought about it, the more sense it made to include it here. I can’t possibly go through another dissection of this scene in the publishing process. The small bit of editing I’ve done here is more than enough.

 Rion, from Liss’ perspective, is a true alpha male with severe over-protective complex, but, I think you’ll see a much different side of Rion here.

 

I don’t think I’ll ever write from this perspective again.

 

        Friday, October 5, 2012, Thanksgiving weekend, somewhere tucked between Squamish and Furry Creek, British Columbia.

A click-snap from inside my mouth startled me, and I spat a chipped piece of molar onto my hand. Tossing it in the garbage, I grunted and continued to clench my teeth. I could have cared less if all of my cusps snapped off. I was not long for this life; Lorkon knows I had made enough mistakes to fill two lifetimes, but it was not worth counting now. To dwell at this point postponed the inevitable.

I stared at the blank piece of paper before me; the back of my eyes pulsating with such fierceness, the grey haze in my peripheral vision flashed yellow and blue stars. I had been trying to determine the right way to say farewell, yet I did not want my father to think he had driven me to this. No, I wanted him to read my message and be proud. Regardless of what my brother believed, this was the best way to bring an end to it all.

The only way.

I picked up the lime-coloured ballpoint once again and rewrote the first sentence as neatly as I could, but found it still a muddled mess. I slammed my fist down on the table and grasped my right hand with my left, shaking it brutishly. I hated my writing, it was illegible enough without all the blasted trembling. I was not nervous. Not at all. Many malions had died for their families in the past and never so much as twitched. What on this land was wrong with me?

I closed my eyes, pulling on the collar of my shirt, and drew one deep breath as I picked up the pen one last time, raking my left hand over my scalp, the slippery oil christened my fingertips. I could sit here for years attempting to perfect this, so I resolved to be brief, though I was unable to stop panting.

        Father,

Tonight I will present myself to the vykhars, ending the war which I have reawakened. Rasadian wants for the malions to leave this third, and now, I believe he is right; but it must be without me. The city grows, and I fear for the safety of our family and cubshen to be born if you stay. Tell Gynell the truth, and that I gave myself willingly: for everyone’s safety, to cleanse the hatred Vakrel and his Asian third sustain toward us, to replenish your alliance, and to unite the thirds once again. Father, it must be as it was. We are a stronger force against our enemies when we are as one, and my presence in this life only hinders this resolve.

Do not fear for me. I shall not suffer in the hands of the vykhars with Lorkon by my side.

R.

            Sealing the note in a black envelope, I place it beneath the chamber door where my father snores erratically, and I am comforted with the fact that he is now closer to the watershed wing. I easily slip past a crowd of females and cubshen in the dining in the hall, their distracted heads chattering on matter-of-factly as I race through another passage to avoid the chance some family member may cease my escape or call out, only I come to face my brother before I reach the hindmost exit. He does not say anything, he just glares at me.

            He knows.

            Rasadian shakes his head. His eyes are glowing. Being my blooded twin brother, I sense the contempt he feels toward me and my gut tightens; a new sourness infects me.  

            “I am going,” I pronounce in a whisper, hoping no one overhears.   

            A low grumble escapes Rasadian’s chest. “For our father’s sake, do not do this. This third needs you. You are letting everyone down. You know I cannot lead this third. I am not well enough…” He then dares to bear his teeth at me, adding, “I cannot—”

            “You will do just fine,” I hiss back. “I have already instructed Lafe on your behalf. Now let me pass.”

            He curls his lip even further and growls. “This is wrong, and you are too selfish to realize it, Krighven. How can you do this to us? Your place is here, leading this third. You are letting our entire colony down!”

            I roll my shoulders and clench my fists to prevent myself from thrusting him out of the way. A warning roar begs to escape my throat, but I must not draw the attention of others, so I snap, “You and the rest of our family will be safer when I am not here. We have both known this since I came flooding back.”

            Rasadian inches closer to my face and barks back, “Would you have done this if Maymus was still alive? And do you not think Forthus will send the entire guard to look for you? You have not though this through. Rion--think about what you are doing!”

            Disagreements such as these frequently circle back to our lack of a mother and my lack of sympathy in situations which involve his well being. No, I would never have done this had our mother been alive, or had I been a single son; however, she no longer existed in this lifetime.  Her death changed our course, and the path which was meant to be. My decisions in this life have now also caused me to take such a route this night. I was not about to explain this to my brother yet again, and I had had enough, so I pushed past him and took off. Rasadian called out, imploring me to slow, but I pressed on, driving my body to create as much distance between us as I could amass. I could not stand his supplications any longer, and I worried he would follow me and therefore endanger himself—thank the Creator he knew not exactly where I was headed.

A shudder trekked up my back, and all the hair stood up on my arms as I ran beyond the borders of our tunnels, away from the place I had called home for nearly all the years of my life. The place I will never see again. When I arrived at the southern exit, the icy October night bit my cheeks, and I stopped for just a second to take in the night and slow my breath. The milky clusters of stars were brighter in the moonless sky, reminding me of when Forthus once told me they were the eyes of our ancestors watching over us. I locate the brightest star to the north and briefly prayed he grant me alacrity. I also think of Maymus…  Surely she eyed me tonight, thinking what a foolish act I was about to commit, yet I did not think of it that way. To me, this was atonement. I closed my eyes for just a second or two and held strong to the belief that my family did not deserve to live in fear any longer. We had been at peace before I came above to play with Sorvath that dreadful afternoon, and living in secret for almost a century. Now, with each day that passed, our presence in such close proximity to the city and the vykhars had become a deadly waiting game of ‘Who Would Be Next’. Tonight, it would all come to an end. I was tired of feeling accountable, and it was time I took responsibility for my actions. Surrendering myself was the right choice. Yes.

            My stomach turned circles as I contended with my legs to move forward, their newfound weight challenging me. Swallowing hard, I wipe my sticky, sap-brushed bangs away from my forehead, and shake back my mess of a mane. Whatever torturous death waited for me out there, I hoped it to be swift, but I would take days of agony if it meant goodwill for my kin.

            Rasadian’s lament startles me, and the frozen branches fracture beneath my feet. I had been stationary too long. In a panic, I bolt, taking a few new turns then doubling back, knocking over a few trees I am too late to avoid from the absence of moonlight.  Rasadian howls in the distance once again. Even with my lack of decent hearing, it seemed he was closing in on my position. I looked back briefly as I ran at full speed toward the city, hoping I could desert him in the forest before car lights blinded me. He never made a sound when he ran. For a male, he was very light on his feet; a good trait in an emergency, considering how sickly he was—though not good for me at this time.

As the forest thinned and the sprinkle of city lights unravelled in my view, I began my search for the vykhar’s warehouse, knowing their line of dynastic estates bordered the Howe Sound shoreline and North Vancouver, and I was just seconds away. I heard another of Rasadian’s faint cries and I snarled back. He must have been following my scent. In one last ditch effort, I flew from a large cliff, landing on a patch of thick brush. I burst through it with little effort then exhort my feet, moving faster than then I ever have. In just a few seconds, more than one hundred branches graze my cheeks…scratching…needling…reaching…tearing.  All I hear now are the brushing scrapes of pine and evergreen, their prickly ends irritate my face and I scour it away. A clearing up ahead tells me the warehouse is near; gassy household fumes and the scent of charcoaled cheese and meat seep through the woods.

            That is when it happened.

            I blew though the bush and into a vehicle with a force I assumed was inconceivable in this world. The car propelled across the road and into a 360 degree turn, turning onto its side before descending over the ravine across the road. I glided a metre or two then skidded to a stop at the edge of the gulley and grabbed my chest, standing in horror as the little coupe toppled over again and again. I immediately jumped into the ravine and slipped past it, somersaulting once then catching the door handle which broke off as soon as I drew force on it. Before it landed on the large bed of rock beneath me and exploded into flames, I caught the edge of the front tire’s rim and hauled it back into an upright position, securing it against a large, broken stump. At that moment, I took a deep breath and almost sighed in relief, until I smelled the rusty, sweet stench of blood. I looked at my hands, thinking I’d cut myself on the shattered glass, but the blood on my cloak was bright red, not amethyst.

            Fenyecka.

            I shuddered and my stomach lurched as I slowly looked down at my shirt. It was soaked in warm, red fluid. My hands were shaking as I looked to the little car beside me…the passenger window was covered in a pool of the same fluid. I jumped up and ripped off the door, hoping to save the man inside it before it was too late, just a quick bandage with my cloak and then I could call Abby for help; only when I took off the door, a little female dropped into my arms. At that point I couldn’t breathe in or out, and the trees around me began to spin.

            A female…

            Oh…heavenly Creator…a female…a magnificent, striking young female…

            I rush her to the top of the ravine and lay her dainty little body in the gravel. Her hair is soaked the same colour as the fluid seeping through my fingertips, and I reluctantly heave. I gently turn her delicate head into my lap and check for a pulse. There is not one.

            I… I…have killed this female. This beautiful, resplendent, young female.

            I rip off my cloak and tuck it around her. If I keep her warm, maybe there is a chance I can resuscitate her. I begin pressing on her chest, yet every bit of compression crunches and gurgles inside her. I sit back for a moment to assess what else I have damaged on this exquisite being and momentarily drift into darkness, but I furiously shake my head and come back to her.

“Focus, you manakacko,” I tell myself, though I cannot catch my breath.

There is no time left. Even if I were to reach Abby, by the time she arrived, this little female’s soul will have absconded.

            My eyes block up with water as I look down again on the female, and come to the realization of what I have done. I can no longer see properly, and nausea overcomes me as I peer into the vacant, chocolate eyes of the female in my arms. I hold her soft, cold cheeks and caress them with my thumbs as tears from my eyes rain on her perfect skin. As I wipe them away from the bridge of her nose, her loveliness captures me, and I scorn myself for being so foolish and not paying attention. I grab a handful of my mane and pull tight. How could I have done such a thing? Why? What has this beautiful creature done so wrong in this world to deserve such an untimely death in my hands? I never meant for anyone to be hurt tonight but my own self. I tilt my head back and curse myself. When I am out of voice I look down again at the little female and hold her in my arms; her skin grows colder, so I hold her closer to my chest. Salty water droplets cascade from my eyes into her hair and mouth. “I’m so sorry, precious female…forgive my errors, and please forgive—”

            I gasp and set her head down.

           Maybe I could heal her. Would it work? Could it be too late?

          I quickly rip away my cloak and inspect her lifeless body. My shaking hands run over her legs, her arms and her the rest of her pale, exposed skin; I must know how dense her bone and muscle mass is, though it’s hard to tell because I know little of her. My heart batters my chest so hard, inhaling becomes arduous; when I momentarily look away I find the trees spinning a haze of green web around me. I clench my teeth, slap my face and attempt a deep breath, but I only manage a few shallow pants. A pool of blood has massed beneath her head and I fathom that I am running out of time. I have no idea what strength is required to heal a human, but I must try. I close my eyes, concentrate, then heat flows within my finger tips; I summon as much force as I can expend and envelope her in a shell of my healing. Her body jerks, and her legs flail. I hold her down with one hand as I campaign the healing in waves towards her extremities. I imagine her smiling and satisfied, begging for my healing to linger, squeezing my hand, calling my name out loud, giggling with joy, maybe biting her lip, just like other females do when their mates heal them; it takes every ounce of strength I have to keep the healing constant and steady without weak interruption. When I think I’ve done it, I stop and check for a pulse, but there is nothing. I have failed. Again.

         Must I do everything wrong this night?

It is too late…or perhaps I didn’t use enough force. I rake my hand through my hair and grind my teeth. I want to roar, but I cannot. I cannot draw added attention.

            A sharp huff startles me, and my eyes flash up to my brother.

            “Rion… Dear ravanahtha Lorkon… What have you done?”          

            I quickly turn and try to hide my female from him, warning him to keep away with a deep growl; but as I try to focus on her, she is two beings, then one, then two again. Even when my eyes return to my brother, I cannot decide which being is the real one.

            “Was she not belted in place?” When I do not answer, because what is done is done, he continues, “Rion, what—”

            “This…” I interject to the being whom I believe is him. “This is none…none of your business, Rasadian. Get away from us!” I swat him away, but I have swatted the wrong being. I turn my focus back to my female.

            Rasadian ignores my threat and leans down, seizing my shoulders, and I see him. His nostrils are flared and his eyes are glowing. “You need help, Krighven. You are overheating. I can help you.”

        “I do not—”

         He shakes his head. “Please, Krighven. Let me assist you. I will not tell the others…I swear it on my heart.” He backs away slightly as he places one hand over his chest.

            My brother disappears for a moment. I shake my head, but my eyes refuse to focus.

            Rasadian pulls me upright. “Steady yourself, Rion. I cannot carry you back.”

            I see him surveying me and the scene I have caused; more blood has pooled beneath my female’s head. The sight makes me wretch, but my stomach is empty; I wave him aside and put my head down to avoid another possible blackout. My cheek contacts hers and I tingle inside. I brush my face gently against the delicate skin of her icy forehead and close my eyes as another tears escapes. My whole body trembles, I cannot stop it.

            “Is there a pulse?”

            Was it not obvious enough that he had to remind me of what I have done?

             I bang my fist on the gravel and Rasadian jumps back. I glare at him.

            He searches my eyes, and then looks at my hands. He sees I have tried to heal her.

        We both know how upset our father would be if he knew what occurred here. Rasadian nods, assuring me; he squeezes my shoulder with his hand, and then examines her body as the ground continues to cyclone around me. He regards me as he shifts closer to my female. I don’t want him near her, but he raises a hand for permission. At this point I cannot hide what is transpiring, so I allow him to continue. He keeps an eye on me as he lifts her shirt slightly, exposing just her navel, and we observe large purple welts forming on her torso. I bite my tongue when he curses me; I deserve his harassments. He strokes her legs, driving me mad, then removes himself when he comprehends how much I loathe his proximity to her. “Her legs are shattered, but there are much greater issues here.” He lowers his head and listens to her chest. “Try again, Rion. You must try again. There may still be time.”

            Heat radiates from my hands, and I ready my body for another swell.

            “No,” Rasadian scolds, snatching my hand away from my female before I have the chance to touch her. “Easy, Rion. She’s human. You must be gentler. A breath or two, Krighven, you are unsteady still. You need to calm yourself first.”

            I gape at my brother. “How would you know about—?”

            “Trust me. You must not use so much force with a human. Especially a female.”

            With little time left, Rasadian holds my female down and I inhale deeply, close my eyes and softly run my hands over her torso, taking care not to let my hands contact her sensitive skin. Rasadian coaches me through, and together, we heal her. I graze over her legs, then make my way to her head.

            “Now,” he instructs me, “breathe into her mouth. Slowly. Smoothly…gently.”

           Rasadian holds her head while I kiss life into her lips, the sweetness of her mouth arouses me and a drive to give her everything I have washes over me. Everything about her is so perfect. I want her to be perfect again. I want to be the one who makes this happen. I want… I want…her.

            My brother nods at me when I come up for breath; he lightly presses on her heart.

            At last, we hear her heartbeat, and it drums…faultlessly…lightly. Its flutter resonates around me, echoing in my ears. I have done this. I have finally done this. She will live. I thank the Creator and motion to wrap her in my arms to ensure she stays warm but my brother intervenes. I bark at him for pulling me back.

            “No!” he scolds. “Your scent will be all over her. Keep your distance now. I’m calling Abby.”

            I push him away and throw my arms around her. She is mine to protect now. Not his.

            “Rion,” he protests, his eyes glaring at me. “Abby will send an ambulance. I will take care of the scene and stay until the paramedics arrive. You are in no condition to wait. You need to rest now and eat. You are exhausted, and if the humans see you, you will not be able to run away fast enough. Go!”

            I low warning escapes my throat. “How dare you tell me to what to do. I am not leaving this female. Not now. She is coming below with me. She is m—I—I must see her through!”

            Rasadian face hardens. “Have you lost your mind, Krighven? This is a human. You cannot bring her below. Listen to yourself! You will ruin her—”

            “I am not leaving her, Rasadian. She comes with me. She will become hypothermic, or die of exposure if she stays out here any longer!”

            Rasadian stands up and flares his nostrils. “Think about what you are saying right now. If you take her below, she will die. She will need human medical attention. She’s still losing blood. She needs a hospital!”

            “Then Abby will provide that!” I spit back at him, but her head still rests in front of me, over a new puddle of blood.

            “What happens when she wakes then, Rion? She will see us!”

            I lay my female’s head down on the cushion of my cloak and attempt to stand and face Rasadian, but I almost fall over. I can hardly balance, though I try hard to appear clearheaded.

            “Look at you, Krighven. You are in no shape to take care of her at this time. Leave her for Abby!”

            I stretch out, then pick up my female and hold her close as I wrap my cloak around her. She breathes, yet it is slow and shallow, and her head collapses onto my chest. She smells of honeysuckle, lavender and…cherry blossom. I take one last look at Rasadian and walk away with my female in my arms.

            “RION!” Rasadian bellows at me. “She is not yours. You are making a mistake. STOP… KRIGHVEN!”

            I glance down at her and rub my head against hers. Rasadian scolds me for marking her, but I want my scent all over her. I want everyone to know she has been healed by me and she is mine to protect. When I reach the thicket of the forest I walk a little faster, and when I can, I jog, but not too fast. I want to hear her breathe; I want to fill my lungs with her fragrance.

                                                                                                        §

            I sneak through the hindmost access closest to my chambers where the guards are breaking for their last evening meal, and carry my female through the passage in complete darkness. I walk slow with one hand outstretched, and find my chamber door without letting her feet scrape against the stone wall. I lay my female down, heal her head wound gently with my hand and wash her face with warm lemarsa water and a brand new sponge. I clean her arms, her feet, her hands and stroke her head. In the middle of brushing her bangs aside with my finger, a sigh escapes her mouth and she leans into my hand. All at once, my strength is lost and I crumble at her side.  

            “M’ebesha…” I whisper to her through new tears, “I’m so sorry, m’ebesha. Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me for what I have done?” I keep my hand still as her cheek is still cool and needs my warmth.  I sniff and wipe my eyes, but the tears persist. “I will never let anything happen to you, m’ebesha… I’ll keep you safe…  And if you will let me, I will earn your forgiveness. I can only hope and pray you will give me a chance…”

            A soft knock at my door startles me. My brother pokes his head through, and deposits a bag on the ground. “Her name is Melissa Jayne Lawrence. She’s 16 years old and she’s from Alberta. There is also a Vancouver address.”

            My eyebrows pull together. “How do you know this?”

            “Her identification and medical cards are in her wallet, in this bag.”

            I snarl at him. “You went through her bag? How dare you—”

            “She doesn’t belong here, Rion,” he snarls back. “Stop acting like she is your wharla. You cannot claim what you have not asked permission for. You know how it works.”

            I need not be reminded of Seconsians, which I had, now, completely thrown out in the soggy rain when it came to this female Melissa.  I stand up and face him. “Stay out of my business.”

            Rasadian bears his teeth. “This is no longer your business. It is all of our business. You have put us all in danger by bringing that human here!”

            “RASADIAN!” I call after him when he storms out. He does not come back so I march to the door, only to find Abby’s dark, melancholy eyes staring up at me. 

            “Rion…” Abby reaches for my hands, flinching when she touches them because they are so warm from healing. “It has once again happened.”

            I stare at Abby for a moment. Long ago, when I was a cubshen, she used to tell me not to be careless, because carelessness would lead me to temptation and jeopardy. After the first time,  I swore I’d never be careless again, but she looked at me strangely, and now I knew why: it was happening again. I swallowed hard. Surely, she knew I wanted nothing but the best for Melissa.

            “May I see her?”

            I close my eyes. The disappointment in her eyes crushes me, and I sense the fear she sustains deep down inside. But when I look at Melissa, I know I could not have possibly let her alone on the road with only my weak brother on this cold night, laying there, waiting for other humans to take her away to somewhere, where they would not care for her the way she needed to be cared for. The way I would care for her. 

            Together Abby and I change my precious Melissa. I refused to leave when she asked, turning my back, instead. I couldn’t leave. Not for one second. The exam took half an hour, then a spare intravenous is brought in, but Abby continued this unrelenting sigh and frown. Something was not right.

            “She needs blood, Rion. I must go and bring back some blood. Her vitals are so weak, she may not make it through the night, and I—”

            I quickly pulled up my sleeve. “Then she will have mine.”

            Abby stared at me, her eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. “I don’t know if your blood is compatible. Your… Your blood could kill her, it’s—”

            I shook my head. “She will die if you leave and do not return in time, Abby. So she will have mine. That is our only hope. I am not arguing about this. Do it now. Please!”

            Abby face froze at my command, and then…she smiled. 

                                                                                                        §

           

Abby left the room to dispose of the supplies when the transfusions were complete, and I held my Melissa’s hand one last time, before I had to hide my hideous face from her view. When Abby returned, she asked me if I needed anything before she checked back on duty at the hospital.

            “I need to know if she is going to be all right,” I replied, still staring at Melissa’s beautiful face.

            She sighed. “Time will tell. Her vital signs were the worst of my worries tonight. Thankfully her concussion is not too severe. I want to check on her again tomorrow morning to top up her medications. And I want you to call the moment she wakes. You may even want to lock the door—and make it quick. She may come to a lot sooner than you think.”

            “Absolutely not. No locked door. And I am not leaving. I want her to see me.”

            “Rion…” Abby shook her head. “Please think about what you are about to do. How this could affect your family.”

            I hear Melissa sigh once again; I cannot take my eyes away from her. “I do not think it was a coincidence she was driving on a back road. I think she was trying to escape from something. I have to believe we were meant to meet for a reason. I cannot just let her go. I must find out why. Until then, she stays, and I stay. That is final.”

            Abby swallows, and the gulp in her throat is loud enough to echo in my chamber. “Give her space then, Rion. I know it may be hard for you, but do not crowd her. She may even be more forthcoming if I see her first.”

            “I understand. Yet if she wakes before you return, I want to assure her she is safe, and that no harm will come to her.” I kept my focus on my precious Melissa, kneeling closer, just enough to smell her honeyed breath.

            “Sleep Rion,” Abby replied, holding the door. “I am advising you to get some rest now, while she rests. Even if you do not take my orders, know that it is in your best interests if you are going to protect her, because there will be many more sleepless nights in the future, I am afraid.”

            I glanced back her and nodded. She was right.

            Abby left quietly, and I was alone again, looking extensively at the little beauty lying before me. Would I ever be able to tell her about what has been shared between us? Would she ever look upon me as I look upon her as this very moment?

         An hour passes, and I lay beside her, but not close enough to touch. My eyes are heavy, but I must not sleep, because I want to be ready when she wakes. Moments later, her eyes suddenly flicker. I shoot up and step back, pulling my hood back over my face. It is time to practice having a small distance from her, but as I transfer away from the bed, it pains me. I long to lay next to her for just a little longer, but I am now at grave risk of falling asleep.

       Melissa sighs and says something in English, but it is a mumble. What shall I say to her in English when she wakes? I hadn’t spoken a word of that dialect in years. I sit back in my chair across the room, and rest my elbows on my knees.

 “What do you dream, m’ebesha?” I ask her, still in malion. “Will you stay a while if I ask? Will you let me watch over you, or will you tear out of here, frightened by my appearance?”

I find myself inching back on the floor to be closer, if only for a minute or two longer. Her scent—even at this distance—makes me desire her to a level I have never experienced before. I want to touch her cheek one last time, but I am aware it would positively consume me and crush what little resistance I have gathered thus far.  And now, she speaks in her dreams; she may be ready to wake, which makes my closeness feel like…like I invade her space. I watch Melissa’s chest move up and down with each slow, exaggerated breath. In such a quite room, I hear her heart: strong, disbursing life without difficulty…finally.  But will it be strong enough to withstand my pleas when I am forced to let her go?

An idea, a grand one, pops into my mind.

I take a book from my desk, sit back on my rocking chair and open it to the last segment. “Melissa,” I begin, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. “I want to tell you a story.”

 

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            And now, I give you one last scene: the prologue from book two, Beyond the Borders.



 

            “The other hand. Do it. Now.”

            The hunter slammed his fist into the brick wall, fracturing it slightly, and then shouted something the prisoner did not understand to his workmate. The prisoner remained silent, staring at his restrained comrade, who stood facing him restively with dilated eyes, grinding his teeth, shuddering from the sound of steal grating upon stone beside them.

The prisoner’s appendages meant very little to him; and though the unimaginable pain pulsated to tips of his extremities, he could not help but feel relief that the hunter had chosen him and not his comrade, for he would still have a fighting chance to escape this mad oblivion.

“Be brave my brother,” the prisoner whispered to his comrade in their native tongue. When he sensed his comrade’s panic mounting, he growled at him, “Do not give in to them. This shall not be the end!”

The hunter pushed his workmate aside and approached the prisoner, seizing a fist of his sticky, sable mane. Wrenching his neck rearward, the stench of the hunter’s fetid cigar breath pooled with peppery cologne nauseated him. When the prisoner refused to answer the hunter once again, he felt the sting of the ice cold blade; though it was not to his only intact wrist, as he assumed, it had pierced the tender skin of his throat. The prisoner shut his eyes as the hunter’s heartbeat escalated, and as the first broken flesh bled down his shoulder, he prayed to Lorkon: “Please take mine hearing away.” 

The comrade’s agonizing howls breached the sound-proof walls and the hunter cracked a victorious smile.  

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Thank you, SO MUCH, for following me, reading my novel, and your unwavering support. It is you, my reader, and your enthusiasm which has made this possible.

M.