Give Me Desire (Reason Series) Read online

  But am I in the future?

  "No, you are in the present day."

  But how?

  "You are in Elysium. You are in the land of your true self."

  My hand slides along the baby bump - which is much larger than when I’m awake at home – letting the gesture silently ask my question of Zirah.

  "It is because when you are in Elysium you are your true self. When you are on earth, you and your body conform to normal standards so you don't alert anyone to the existence of the supernatural.”

  I'm confused by the fact that this doesn’t all seem stranger to me. It all seems so natural, like second nature.

  "That’s because you’ve been here before, while you slept,” Zirah says, answering a question I haven’t asked. “When you were attacked, you were essentially dead, and that brought you into Elysium. While you were here, you learned of your fate." Her voice is reassuring.

  Why don't I remember?

  "You were not meant to remember. But it is why this all comes so easily to you. Mikah was primed by his mother - he was told of his legend in his younger years. You, Princess, were not." She pauses as if pondering something. "You were not meant to come to Elysium a few days ago."

  Realization stumbles its way into my mind. I died? He - Riley - he killed me?

  "Yes, but Mikah found you in time. He accelerated your healing and brought you back to Earth, which is where you are supposed to be. Your time has not come."

  I mentally shake my head, trying to process all of this information.

  "Dreams are a form of Elysium, Princess."

  Princess?

  "Yes, you are a princess of Elysium, and Mikah is your protector, your guardian."

  I let that thought sink in deep. Mikah’s my guardian. I was right: He really was only trying to help, to protect me.

  I stop walking. So my feelings for him aren't real?

  "Your feelings for your guardian are real, Vivienne. Never doubt them."

  My heart leaps and I quicken my pace, anxious to be closer to him.

  Finally he comes into full view. I watch him standing there, dumbfounded by what's happening to him. His wings are spread: full and beautiful in all their glory, white and perfect. My heart melts. Desire grows. I feel like a magnet being pulled toward something to attach to. Something to cling to.

  He's looking at his arm now. The black tattoo that covers half of his body is detailed and beautiful. He is shirtless; my gaze lingers on his deeply defined biceps and his abs, which are on glorious display. His hips arc into a beautiful V that disappears into the waistline of his pants.

  His skin is darker, seeming even more tan against the stark white of the room. I watch as he brings his hand up over his shoulder and takes hold of his wing. Instantly his eyes roll upwards, showing the whites, and his knees give way.

  I giggle at his reaction and his head snaps up to look straight at me. I point to the mirror behind him. He cocks his head at me, so I point again, more urgently.

  He turns slowly toward the mirror. I can see him squint and close his eyes. He takes a few steps in its direction and, after a beat, he slowly opens his eyes.

  His eyes are a beautiful blue, like the ocean, warm with excitement. His spreads his arms wide; his wings are longer than his arm span.

  I approach him quietly from behind. He stumbles slightly.

  "Easy there, angel. You're alright."

  He falters again but recovers quickly.

  "What is happening to me?" His voice is strained, concerned, but there's a hint of wonder.

  I watch as he slowly starts to move and flex his shoulders. His back is equally as toned as his front, and there is something extremely sexy about his wings. I giggle at how awkward he looks testing them for the first time, but his face lights up. He starts to turn toward me.

  "No, no. Keep facing the mirror. Keep practicing," I say to distract him and watch as his expression changes to disappointment, but he continues to practice as I quietly sneak closer to him.

  "Will I be able to fly?" I hear him ask as he watches the motions of his wings.

  "Yes, in time." My answer surprises me – I didn’t realize I knew that. Then I remember what Zirah told me. I try again in vain to recall being here before.

  I'm within an arm’s length of him. I reach out, tentatively, and lightly brush my fingertips along the feathers of his wings.

  He moans – a sound born not of pain but of pleasure - and crumples to the floor. I touch him again, watching his eyes roll back and then close.

  I smile at the idea that this is something he enjoys. I do it again and he moans once more.

  I pull back slightly from him and begin to make my way around his now-collapsed wings.

  "Keep your eyes closed," I breathe.

  "But I need to see you." His voice confirms his need, but I have other plans before he opens his eyes.

  I trail my finger along his nose to his lips, and he kisses the pad of my finger. My palm cups his cheek. He instantly leans into my touch. His skin is warm, slightly prickly from the stubble on his chin. My heart flutters at the excitement of touching Mikah.

  "Give me your left hand," I say.

  He slowly lifts his hand, and I recognize it as a calculated move, but it’s unnecessary; I no longer feel threatened by Mikah.

  As I take his hand, I kneel down in front of him. "Open your hand," I say.

  He does so without hesitation, and I place it gently against my cheek.

  A flood of emotion runs wild through my body. Tears form in my eyes and drip down my cheek. I can feel his tears, too. Something is shifting between us, a change in our relationship, a change that will bind us together.

  SEVEN

  There is a rather loud crashing sound behind me. I jolt and my eyes fly open. My heart is pounding, but I quickly realize that I'm back in the new apartment. I can hear some more shuffling behind me and I relax.

  It's dark except for the light streaming through the slightly open door. Mikah is not in the bed with me.

  I hear him curse.

  I smile.

  Then feel disappointed that I was pulled from the most bizarre and yet amazing dream I've ever had. If only it were true.

  I sit up. There is a strange tingling sensation across my back and I scowl. It diminishes rapidly and I realize that I really need to pee.

  I crawl out of bed, feeling slightly off balance as I stumble into the bathroom and close the door behind me.

  I come out a couple minutes later, after running cool water over my face, realizing I would really like to take a bath, or at least a shower.

  I quietly pad across the carpet to the slightly open door and peek through to see Mikah in the kitchen doing something near the stove. The air is filled with the smell of chicken and vegetables. Soup, perhaps?

  "No, Seraphina," I hear him say, and my eyes scan the kitchen and the living room. There's no one that I can see.

  Who's Seraphina? I wonder.

  "She's his teacher," a familiar female voice says, and I spin around, stumbling into the chair next to the door in an ungraceful manner. Though the room is lit only by one soft light in the corner, I can clearly see that no one is in the room with me.

  "Wha-?" I start to say.

  "No need to talk aloud, Princess. I can hear you."

  I shake my head. Princess? Wait, the dream.... I let the thought stop and I shiver.

  "'Twas no dream. You are an angel, Vivienne, and a very special one at that."

  How can this be happening?

  "It is who you are, Vivienne, who you were always meant to be."

  But if this is what I'm supposed to be, why then has all this... Words fail me as I let the reality of my dream sink in.

  "Why have you had the life you've had? Well, your mother was once one of us, as well."

  Once?

  "She has fallen. She is one of our fallen angels. Though she has not sinned against the angels, she's chosen her own path."

  She doesn't say any mo
re, and I don't need any further explanation from her. My mother made her choice, her decision to be who she is. There is nothing I can do about that. She never showed any willingness to change her situation. She just kept on doing what she was doing. In a sense, I understand addiction and how it takes ahold of a person, but she never once expressed any need or desire to quit. Nor did she ever try on her own to quit.

  Dread washes through me. I was never religious and have never gone to church, but I've read enough literature to know what heaven and hell are.

  "Heaven and hell do not exist in that form, my child. When in your dreams you are in Elysium. Though very like heaven, it is far from it. Hell is a loose interpretation of what it is. Though Dante got it right."

  Dante's Inferno?

  "That's the one. Your mother, though fallen as she is, will not go to hell. She will still be among the souls in heaven, as you call it. Her choices and her actions were ruled by her substance abuse, and while she made all the wrong decisions in that life, she's never actually done anything to send her to hell."

  But what about me? What about all the things she's done or let be done to me? Tears of frustration form. I understand what she's saying, truly I do, but what about the fact that she never so much as tried to protect me?

  Realization dawns anew and I understand her words. I would never want to see my mother in hell. My mother is in a living, breathing hell of her own, lost inside her mind and trapped in a body that is riddled by her choices.

  "Very well done, Vivienne. You're right - she suffers enough as it is right now. She does not need to suffer more. When she comes upon us, she will be free of her living prison, free of pain and suffering. Perhaps one day she will make amends with you."

  Who are you? I ask inside my head, then fight the urge to go running and screaming from this room because I'm talking to someone or something inside my mind.

  A soft laughter echoes around in my mind. "You are not crazy, dearest Vivienne. I am Zirah." The dream. “I am assigned to be your guide and your teacher, just like Seraphina is Mikah's."

  Mikah's name brings me back to the present, to this room. Does Mikah know about me?

  "He knows, more or less. The two of you have been having the same dreams; he is seeing the same as you are seeing in Elysium. However, he does not know that you're aware of being an angel when you’re awake, and more than that, he does not yet see that the dream is shared and that you know he, too, is an angel.”

  I smile slightly at the idea that I know what he is, but he doesn’t yet know that I know.

  I smile wider as the memory of Mikah, asleep with his head on my bed when I woke up from the coma, comes to me. I knew instantly that his presence in the hospital was why I was alive. I knew that he'd saved me. The surge of devotion and gratitude I felt toward him in that moment was stronger than anything I've ever felt in my entire life.

  Though I put up a fight about coming here to stay with him, I really didn't mean it. I knew the moment Riley came up behind me that Mikah was right all along: I'm no match for someone like Riley, someone who can easily overpower me. I needed help then, more than what Dr. Alston had been able to provide to me. I needed protection.

  "He is your guardian, sweet Vivienne. What happens between the two of you now is up to the Fates. Go to him. Be with your angel," she says wistfully, and I feel a shimmer as she departs from my mind.

  EIGHT

  My stomach growls as the smell of warm chicken broth fills my nose. I get to my feet and turn toward the door. His back is to me still, but now he is at the breakfast bar with his laptop. I can't see what he's looking at, but the muscles in his neck are strained, tense.

  I silently pull open the door and step onto the cool hardwood floor. As I pad quietly toward him, I see him stiffen, but he doesn't turn. The oddest of shimmers skates across his back, noticeable only because of the tight t-shirt he is wearing.

  I say nothing as I come up to stand beside him, placing my hand on his back, right where I saw the shimmer. His breath rushes out of his lungs.

  "Hi," I say as casually as I can manage, given that I know something he doesn't know.

  "Hi," he says. His voice is raspy, slightly more so than normal, and the effect on my body is instantaneous. A shiver of anticipation zips across my back. "How did you sleep?"

  I pull my hand away and place it on the of the bar stool.

  "Wonderful, thank you. How about you?"

  The corners of his lips turn up in a small smile. "Very well. Are you hungry?"

  I nod, a little too enthusiastically, and he hastily closes the lid on his computer and stands.

  "Good, the soup should be heated up. It's the same from the other day, is that okay?"

  "Yes, that soup was delicious."

  He busies himself in the kitchen, grabbing bowls, silverware and two placemats. As he puts them on the breakfast bar I take the seat in the middle.

  "What would you like to drink?"

  "Ice water is fine."

  He scowls at me as he places the bowls and plates on the placemats.

  "What?" I say. “I drink water all the time.”

  "How about some milk?"

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Fine," I say all breathy.

  His lip twitches at my exasperated tone and he turns to the refrigerator.

  When he opens it, I see that it is fully stocked with all manner of fruits and veggies, along with milk - which he takes out of the fridge - something that looks like iced tea, and a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew. I smirk. He closes the door before I can inspect any further.

  He grabs two glasses and pours us both some milk. I raise an eyebrow.

  "What?" he says sheepishly.

  I grin. "Never pictured you as a milk drinker."

  He smiles. "I'm not, but if I'm forcing you to do it, I can do it, too."

  I shake a little with silent laughter at his tone.

  He reaches for three potholders sitting on the counter. Placing the biggest one between us, he takes the two smaller ones with him to the stove. He clicks it off, grabs both handles of the pot and brings the soup over to sit between us. Then he tosses the potholders aside and grabs a ladle as he comes around the bar.

  In a very gentlemanly fashion he serves me first, then fills his own bowl.

  When he's done, he takes the seat next to me. "How are you feeling?" he asks as I pick up my spoon.

  I think about his question before answering. "I feel great, just really tired for some strange reason." I bring a spoonful of soup to my mouth, blow on it and take a sip. "Mmm," I moan, swallowing it down. "This is really good."

  He too takes a bite and nods. We eat in silence for a little while. I drink down all of my milk and stand to get some more, but he stops me.

  "I can get it," he says and stands quickly.

  "I'm not broken, Mikah, I can do it." I try to sound sweet about it, but he scowls at me. I mentally shrug it off and go to the fridge for the milk.

  "I never meant to imply you're broken."

  My heart sinks a little bit as I realize it was more of an act of chivalry than waiting on me.

  I return to my seat with the milk and begin eating some more. Before I know it, my bowl is empty and I still feel hungry. Just as I'm about to reach for the ladle, there is a knock on the door. I freeze.

  "It's just Red," he says quietly as he takes in my frozen state. "He said he would be back with a change of clothes for me. I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I stayed on the couch tonight?" His gaze is warm, soft.

  "Yes, please." I smile slightly. I hadn't thought about staying here alone, and Mikah's willingness to stay on the couch warms my heart, though I kind of wish he would sleep with me.

  He walks toward the door. "I thought the couch would make you more comfortable," he says as he checks the peephole in the door. "Oh, it's Celeste." He reaches for the knob and then turns back to me, like he is seeking reassurance.

  I nod hesitantly. I've at least met Red. Not sure if I trust him, bu
t I've met him. Celeste is another story. I'd never realized I was so skittish about people before.

  Then, as he opens the door, I'm reminded of the dream right before we left the hospital. Hearing Nyssa’s name in that dream has given me the idea that people really aren't always as they seem. But I also don't yet know why she would be in my dream in the first place.

  "Thank you," I hear Mikah say, pulling me from my thoughts.

  "I'd love to meet her," a sweet, soft voice says from the doorway, and I watch as Mikah turns toward me.

  I take a couple steps in his direction, and he opens the door a little wider.

  "Come on in." He steps aside.

  On the other side of the door is a very pretty yet average-looking woman with blond hair; big, blue eyes; and a warm, welcoming smile. She is taller than I am, though that’s not hard to accomplish. I guess she's in her early thirties.

  "Hi, Vivienne. I'm Celeste, Mr. Blake's housekeeper. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

  "Hi, Celeste. Your soup is fabulous," I say with a small smile.

  "Thank you. I'm glad you like it. Can I get you guys anything else?" she asks, looking from me to Mikah and back again.

  I shake my head.

  "No, I think we're good for now," Mikah says to her, and she hands Mikah a bag.

  "Vivienne, I'm not sure if you saw or not, but your closet has some clothing for you, mostly yoga pants and t-shirts. If something doesn't fit, let me know and I can exchange it for you."

  I'm pretty sure my face shows the shock I'm feeling at the idea that there are clothes, not to mention that Mikah has spent money on me. "Th-thank you," I finally manage to mutter.

  I see concern in Mikah's face as his brows knit together.

  "You're welcome." She turns to Mikah. "Call if you need anything else. I'm going to take off for tonight, but I can come back if there's a need."

  "Thanks, Celeste. See you tomorrow," Mikah says, and she waves at me. I wave back halfheartedly as she steps back out the door and Mikah closes it.

  NINE

  "Why did you buy me clothes?" I ask.

  His back tenses and ripples at my words. The tension in his back is not anger; it's fear or worry.