Chapter 3
My feet move. I barely notice that I’m walking. It feels like I’m floating or being pulled on a conveyor belt. The closer I get to the spring, the faster my heart beats. Trepidation or excitement, I’m not sure which, has me trembling so much I can’t see straight, and the images around me bounce and blur.
“This is crazy!” I reassure myself. “I have nothing to be nervous about. You’ll keep me safe, Safra, won’t you?”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even turn her head to look at me. What do I expect? She is a cougar. It’s strange, though. I always get some sort of acknowledgment when I speak to her.
I wonder if this should set off a warning flare. It doesn’t. At least not one obvious enough for me to turn around.
“You’re a little out of sorts, girl; you’d stop me if you sensed danger. Wouldn’t you?”
She yawns in response. Maybe she’s just tired and upset because I woke her from her sleep to walk with me. I chalk her behavior up to the fact that cougars are wild animals and don’t respond the way humans do, even though Safra is a lot more interactive than your everyday cougar.
Ignoring the niggling feeling that I may be heading for a trap, I forge forward, almost as if I’m powerless to stop myself. Although, I know if I decide to turn around and go home, I’ll find the will to do it. Just like last time.
I give it one last shot. “We’re out for a nighttime walk, that’s all girl, right?” I ask her, as if we do this all the time. This time, Safra gives me a side glance and a low growl.
“What?” I grow defensive, knowing in my heart that I’m flirting with danger. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
Then why does guilt flood through me? I feel like I’m betraying Em, which is crazy. It’s not like I’m planning to hurt him; I’d never do that or sneak anything bad into the forest. The man is already here. He found his way on his own. But I know my guardian wouldn’t approve of me meeting with this stranger—meeting with anyone, for that matter—without him by my side. I shake my head. How treacherous can a man schooled in playing the violin really be? It’s a sophisticated instrument. Beautiful, not just in the rich sound that comes from it, but with its glossy finish and rounded curves. Harmless. You can’t even get a splinter from it.
“Listen to that.” The way the man uses his violin to create some of the happiest and saddest sounds ears can hear is a testament to the hours he spent practicing. Further proof he holds no threat. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to watch him play.”
Watching him last time as he lost himself in the entrancing music stirred something in me. The look of exultation on his face as he cradled the instrument against his firm shoulder and firm jaw held my rapt attention.
Witnessing him stroking the violin and hitting notes that sounded more beautiful than anything I’d ever heard held an intimacy I never experienced before. His body moved in precision with the sounds, the two perfectly synched. The scene stoked a hunger inside me I thought I no longer had.
The thought, the memory of watching him stand under the moonlight at the spring, lures me to him. It’s not just the music; it’s the way he looks, strong and majestic. Comfortable and confident in an environment that should have terror rushing through his veins. Everything about this man fascinates me.
Why am I making so much out of this? Trying to explain myself to a cougar, no less. “Maybe I’m worrying for no reason, and Em and Erin will be there too. It will be like our own private concert. There’s no way they aren’t hearing the music.” I’m done looking for a reaction from Safra.
I blow out a breath, hoping to settle myself so I don’t act like a love-sick fool when I see the man. Love-sick? That’s ridiculous. The thought makes me want to puke. I’m acting strange because I’ve been away from men, from people, for too long. I need to get my head straight and stop allowing my imagination to run wild and make too much of this.
One minute, I act like he’s a cold-blooded killer and hide in my house, and the next, like we are going to have an epic romance. I need to stay grounded and in the moment. Right now, I’m safe and have nothing to worry about. As long as he plays, his hands and lips will be nowhere close to mine. Hmmm…Lips… I wonder what his soft, warm lips taste like?
The rich sounds of music continue to travel through the night air surrounding me, enveloping me like a soft blanket or a warm hug. I continue forward in a hypnotic state. How can anyone who can play such a plethora of cords and harmonies and provoke so much emotion be a threat?
I hum along as if I know what sound comes next and will myself to relax. The music takes over my body. It thrums through my veins. The tension I feel separates from my muscles and melts away like butter.
I can’t wait to see the fair-haired man again. This time, I plan to get closer. The anticipation has me giddy. I smile and fiddle with my plaited hair, unsure of what to do with it. I pull it forward and force my hands down at my sides.
No, this feels forced and submissive. Oh hell no. I keep my hands at my sides and stand straight, conscious of my posture.
His silhouette becomes clearer with each step. I lick my lips, completely enthralled.
“There’s no turning back now, is there, girl?” I say to my companion, suspicious of her aloofness and docile behavior.
Perhaps this is her way of disagreeing with me and telling me I should axe the idea? Then she should’ve put up a protest the moment I stepped out of my cottage. Not that it would have changed anything.
From the moment I ran away from this man, I knew that if he returned, I’d throw caution to the wind and seek him out. Like I’m doing now. While my daughter sleeps alone in the cottage.
“Ana,” I whisper, reminding myself what I’m risking.
What kind of mother am I, leaving Ana while I go rendezvous with a man? Not a responsible one, that’s for sure. I know better than to act like this, venturing out at night and leaving her alone. Although alone is relative. Ana’s sound asleep, and the cottage is being guarded by the wolves.
Ever since my brother came to the forest threatening all of us, Em has added extra layers to our protection delegation. I don’t think there’s a child anywhere in this world safer than Ana. She’s safer here than if we lived in a castle surrounded by an alligator-infested moat. Even when I’m not with her.
Still, we’re in the forest so I can give her a happy and stable upbringing. One where she won’t lose her mother to thugs the way I lost mine. I’m putting that at risk. All of it.
My feet stop for a fleeting moment. The right thing to do is run back home and lock the door behind me like I did the last time. I don’t because I fear if I do, I’ll never see this man again. I don’t even give the thought real consideration.
I need to understand why this man has my insides twisted in knots. I’ve never been like this, not even when I first met Mike. That was a slow burn over a few months, not an instant flame.
Now that I know my music man is here, I need to see him. Talk to him. I start moving again, continuing my walk into the fire.
It’s hard to swallow as his full figure comes into clear view. My eyes adjusted to the dark when I started walking, but seeing him in the ambient light hits me in a way that makes it hard to breathe. I pull in a long gulp of air, hoping it will feed my confidence along with my lungs.
I remember finding him attractive, but I didn’t expect him to be drool-worthy. He looks like he stepped out of the past—or maybe a movie— I do miss those . Like the hero, come to rescue the maiden trapped in a tower. Or in my case, the forest.
My pulse sprints fast and furious. I feel my heartbeat in my fingertips as I watch him play, oblivious to my presence and lost in the music. The look on his face makes me think he’s as entranced by what he does with the violin he holds as I am watching him. It’s so intimate, my pleasure feels perverse.
Resting his chin on the instrument, he cradles it. His whole body moves with each pull of the bow in time with the music. His face betrays nothing but joy and contentment. My heart lunges with each beat, struggling to get out of my chest and closer to him.
Standing on the far side of the spring, he doesn’t notice me as I stand still and watch. He tilts the bow and drags it across the strings, changing the tone to something more lilting and upbeat.
Two more steps forward, and I will myself not to go any further. Once again, I’m nervous. Nervous that I won’t catch his attention. Nervous if I do, that it’s been so long since I’ve spoken to a man, I won’t know how. I bite my lip, unsure if I want him to look up and discover me or if I want him to continue to play as if no one is there.
I look around the area, searching for Em or Erin. Good, there’s no sign of either of them. I expect the knot in my stomach to shrink in relief. Instead, it grows. Transforms into a boulder.
When Em finds out I’m here, he’ll scold me like a small child. He’ll be pissed off and explode, knocking down trees and causing devastation in the forest he loves so much. Then he’ll punish the man for daring to look my way.
While I understand my protector means well and wants to keep me safe, I don’t have to like it. And right now, I don’t.
I gave up all the comforts I grew up with to start a solitary life here. The truth is, there are times I resent the sentence I’ve been handed to spend the rest of my days in this non-human confinement. All because of my brother’s greed.
I’ve had no one to talk to for years except my daughter, who is too young to have adult conversations. Sure, Em was here, and when he was in a decent mood, he was adequate company. Even then, he wasn’t ever a conversationalist. He always had something that demanded his attention.
Now that my brother is no longer a threat, I’ve toyed with the idea of returning to civilization. The problem is, I have no home to return to. No place I’m connected to. My brother’s been dead to me since long before the coyotes killed him, and now my grandmother’s gone too.
That’s what brought Erin here. A promise to bring me my inheritance from Baba .
Perhaps this man is my reward. A gift from the universe. An offering to me for being a good mother and doing right by Ana. Not that I would ever take a chance with my daughter’s safety. That’s not what I’m doing now, is it?
No, I would feel it.
Leery of getting too close to the stranger, I continue to stand about ten feet from him. I do my best not to make a sound. Not even when I breathe, so that I won’t interrupt him. Yet, after a minute or two, the music stops. It’s the first indication that the man’s aware of my presence.
Placing the instrument on the ground, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something from it that catches the moonlight and sparkles. It’s small and difficult to glimpse, but he holds it in his hand and looks at it. After a few seconds, his striking eyes, blue as the Caribbean Sea, meet mine, and a Cupid-drawn arrow is speared into my heart, making me this man’s captive.
“A gift.” His voice breaks through the unnerving silence. It’s smooth and soft as velvet. Beautiful. Melodious, like his music.
I stand statue still, watching as he heads toward me with long, confident strides, showcasing the strength of his thick, muscular thighs. No response kicks in me. Not fight nor flight. It seems I’ve even lost the ability to speak.
He stops when the distance between us is cut in half, bends down, and places the trinket he holds onto the ground. Moonlight puts a spotlight on it. Returning to his full height, the man’s crystalline blue eyes pierce mine again, causing a turbulent flutter in my belly.
Without breaking eye contact, he steps backward as if he knows every inch of this terrain and returns to his original spot. I make no move until he picks up his instrument and plays once again. Hesitantly, I take small steps forward, toward the small trinket he left on the ground.
It doesn’t escape me that the movements between us are dancelike. Rhythmic, at the very least. He moves forward, toward me, then backs away, and I move toward him. We seem to communicate without words. I don’t think this man is reading my thoughts like Em. I think he’s reading me—my body language—and allowing me to interpret his.
I stare at the bracelet displayed across my fingers, awed over the beautiful colors woven into the silver-looking metal. With my other hand, I feel the decorative stones adorning it, like charms.
In the center, a small, bluish-green stone hangs. About half an inch in diameter, it doesn’t have a symmetrical shape, but the edges, like the sides, are thin and smooth. On either side, next to the main stone, are two small dark green stones that could be mistaken for beads if they were round. I’m not certain what holds it all together.
“I made it special for you,” he says before pulling the bow across the strings of the violin, inducing a low, sweet sound. “It doesn’t compare with your beauty. Nothing can. I hope you like it, nonetheless.”
His eyes close as I search for a response. The look on his face holds a hint of pain and desire. As if he’s lost in the music. Like he’s touching me, making love to me through his violin.
My body ignites, and my skin prickles, yearning to be touched. Unsure of the overload of emotions I’m feeling, I clear my throat, stalling for time. He stops playing, waiting for me to speak.
“It’s beautiful.” My voice is sultry, even though I don’t mean it to be. “Thank you.”
Lowering his head, he offers me a smile, showing off a set of deep dimples. The front of his long blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail, giving me a better view of his face than the first time I saw him. I look on in silence as he returns to filling the night air with the sweet, seductive sounds of music.
I set the gift across my wrist and clasp it closed. I move my wrist in and out, close to and away from my body, admiring it. Overwhelmed with gratitude, my eyes tear, and I smile, holding my wrist against my chest, treasuring the present. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten a gift.
The man doesn’t speak to me again, but his eyes stay pinned to me like glue. I heat under the scrutiny of his stare as I sway to his music. Pretending I’m somewhere else, anywhere else, I hold the thin material of my nightgown in my hands, swirling it around as if I’m dressed for a party in a ballroom instead of sleep.