In My Arms You Shall Hide

Chapter 29

Kittie

I wake up to the sound of running water. My entire face feels heavy, but my chest is lighter. I wince against the faintest throbbing at the base of my skull.

I guess I hit it against a rock or something.

Dorian’s side of the bed is cold, but the bathroom door’s open. Steam billows out from the room, and from the slightly foggy vanity mirror, I can see his outline in the shower. He’s faced away from me, revealing the hard ridges along his back and shoulders. I watch him brace the wall with one hand, standing directly under the water flow while sweeping back his wet hair.

I shake my head, scolding myself for gawking at him like a piece of meat. I bury my face into his pillow, trying to breathe in his scent. Unfortunately, because I’ve spent much time with him, his scent no longer sticks out, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.

Eventually, he turns the water off. The glass door rolls open, and I imagine his wet body stepping out, the water cascading down his chest and his legs. I don’t dare look up, my cheeks stinging. I’m not sure why I have such a reaction when I’ve seen him naked before.

I listen to the shifting sounds of fabric and a zipper. The water in the sink hisses, then quiets, and a few things clatter on the countertop. I know he’s finished in the bathroom when movement touches the bed.

“Kittie,” Dorian calls in a sweet, quiet voice. The faintest touch of his cologne sweeps over me. He rests a hand on the back of my head. “It’s time to get up.”

Although it’s tempting to pretend to be asleep to hear more of that husky, gentle tone, I lift my head from the pillow and stare at him through my lashes.

“Oh, you’re already awake,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “What’s got you looking so shy?”

I bite my lip. “I watched you in the shower.”

Dorian blinks once, processing, and his smile tips in one direction, becoming a lopsided grin. “Were you now?”

Embarrassed, I flop my face back into his pillow. The quick movement exacerbates my growing headache.

Luckily, he doesn’t pursue it. His hand travels down to my lower back and stays there. “There’s something I want to do with you today. First, though, you need to eat something. Your stomach’s been growling all morning; I’m shocked your hunger didn’t wake you.”

Maybe if I hadn’t been so busy ogling him, I might have noticed I am starving. But now, the prospect of spending the morning with him has me impatient.

I hustle down the stairs as Dorian trails behind me. I rush through everything that morning: scarfing down cereal and toast, brushing my teeth in my bedroom, and throwing on a long, white skirt and a blue knit sweater. I yank a comb through my hair and throw it into a low ponytail.

My fingers on my scalp intensify the pain. I grab a few painkillers from my medicine cabinet and drink them down with handfuls of water from the sink.

Dorian meets me outside my bedroom. I stand in the doorway, drinking in how beautiful he looks in the daylight. His hair is nearly dry.

Since he’s been carrying me from place to place for the last few days, it’s nice that he walks me to the sunroom.

When we reach my usual seat, I pause, intent on sitting in one of the lounge chairs, but Dorian keeps walking, ushering me toward the end of the sunroom.

“Since the weather is decent, I thought you could get some fresh air today.”

Anxiously, I follow him. “The window?” I guess, heart fluttering slightly.

“No, I have a place for you outside,” he replies sweetly.

I gnaw at my lip, falling behind.

“It’s alright, Kittie,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me and coaxing me to follow. “I told you before, no more locks. No more alarms.”

I glance toward the glass door, hands trembling at my sides. I believe him, I truly do, but something feels wrong about it.

Dorian presses his mouth against my hair. “It’s a beautiful day out. Don’t you want to enjoy it?”

I stare up at him, nervous. “Okay.”

When we reach the door, I peer over at the alarm panel. It’s devoid of lights, and the screen is blank.

I stand back as he turns the doorknob and nudges the door open.

The smell of freshly cut grass lingers in the warm air. Someone’s trimmed the shrubs and bushes lining the backyard and manicured the lawn. The tree in the center of the side yard is the only thing that remains the same, casting a long shadow across the grass. Beneath, a purple blanket has been laid out with a basket and books piled in the center.

The sky stretches a long blue, with scant whisps of white clouds.

We step out into the yard, and the sun hits us both. I squint for a second beneath the light, but I soak it up. It’s been so long since I’d taken it in. Sucking in a lung full of the spring air, I crane my head back to feel the sun on my face.

Dorian stands there for a few minutes. When I realize he isn’t moving, I open my eyes and peek up at him. He appears deep in thought, eyes glued to my face.

After a breath, he pulls his gaze from me and sets them forward. He guides me toward the tree and says, “Raney was out here earlier today getting the yard ready. It’s well overdue now that it’s April. The lilac bushes are in full bloom now.”

“They look beautiful,” I tell him, admiring the bushes furthest away from the yard and their pops of soft purple. “I’ve always loved the smell.”

“You and my mother,” he replies with a chuckle. “She was the one who had them planted all over the property. At least someone will enjoy them with her gone.”

Dorian and I sit on the blanket under the tulip tree. I tuck my legs under me and study the white buds along the tree branches. A breeze blows across the yard, carrying a floral scent with it.

I sigh in bliss, feeling it against my skin and hair. It truly is a perfect day.

Dorian bends over toward the pile of books. He lifts a thin, white book from the pile and hands it to me. “I saw this in one of the bookstore windows downtown the other day. I thought you would enjoy it.”

I take it from his hands. I survey the hardback book and its crisp white dust jacket. It’s thin, and I don’t recognize the author, Chester Platt, or its title, Ashes on the Wind. I crack it open to the first page and flex the stiff spine. The pages smell lovely.

“Thank you.”

Dorian only nods, then lowers himself to the blanket, lying back, crossing his ankles, and folding his arms behind his head.

I begin to read the first page and feel his eyes on me. I frown at him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Kittie. You go ahead and read. I’ll just be here, enjoying the day.”

I nod and return to my book. I struggle to focus on the pages because I still feel him staring at me. Eventually, the contents of the book let me forget that I’m being watched, sucking me into a sorrowful tale of love. A tragic story unwove on the pages, where the woman and man are torn apart by their families for having different religions.

I lose track of time. It has not been too long, but I’ve gotten halfway through it before I return to reality. In the story, the main character proclaims his love for the woman of his dreams as she tries to list reasons they can’t be together.

I clasp a hand to my heart, torn up by these two people who desperately want to be together, but the world won’t not allow it.

“What is it?” Dorian asks. He’s been completely silent for so long that the words make me jump and lower the book. “Did something upset you?”

“Oh, no,” I reply. “It’s just this part of the story. It’s sweet but sad.”

“Read it to me.”

I scoot closer to him on the blanket, and he sits up. Lowering the book so that he can see the words on the page, I read the dialogue from the main character to his beloved, “ Should I be so fortunate that you and I can share in the same Heaven, I will endure this life’s harshest Hells. And have comfort knowing, in the life beyond this one, I will love you with the might of a thousand loves you deserved. ”

“I wish I could say the same to you,” Dorian says quietly, and when I meet him with confusion, he lifts a hand to my face. “I can’t follow you to Heaven. We both know I’m bound for Hell.”

I place my hand on the back of his, putting my book down.

“The Devil himself would be too ashamed to drag you down with us, no matter how I might plead and beg him to bring you back to me. No, there’s only room in Heaven for you. I just hope that when I die and am brought screaming to the depths, I’m allowed to keep my memories of you. Then I can tolerate it.”

I shake my head, and he leans in to kiss me softly. My heart aches at the idea of us being separated for all eternity. Life itself doesn’t seem long enough. I don’t want to be torn apart from him. I want to be at his side. And can it be paradise at all if I don’t have him?

Dorian lowers me down onto the blanket. I kiss him deeply, gently holding handfuls of his shirt as he hangs above me, arms on either side of me. I don’t want to part from him, but much too soon, he pulls his face away from me.

“Then I’ll follow you,” I tell him breathlessly. “I’ll follow you into Hell, and we can burn together. Okay?”

Dorian’s eyes fill with sorrow. “Kittie…I don’t want that for you. I can’t burn your wings.”

I don’t understand what he means by wings, but I decide it doesn’t matter. I loosen my grip enough to touch my fingers to his cheeks, troubled by the sadness in his face. I peck his lips, wanting to comfort him. “Wings are overrated. I belong to you, don’t I? I have to go where you go.”

I know he wants to argue and say something more, but he goes quiet. I kiss him a few more times until he and I are coiled up in one another on the blanket, kissing beneath the tree in the spring breeze. I hope with my whole heart that when I die, we can both live out this moment for all eternity.

When I look up into his face, he still seems so sad. I don’t understand; how can I keep my promise never to run away from him if fate separates us, with the entire land of the living between us?

I don’t believe in Hell, or Heaven, or God. But if I’m wrong, my promise remains. I’ll burn for the rest of time if I can be near him.