Morgan Rice - Desired

Polly had always sensed that Kendra had some sort of sinister agenda. For years, she’d been trying to get every vampire in her coven to turn her. Of course, it was forbidden, and no one would oblige her. But now, she could tell, she’d set her sights on Sam. Fresh blood had arrived, and she was determined to try again. Polly shivered, not liking the idea of what could happen to Sam if Kendra was determined.

Yes, this was certainly an unusual day for her. Her mind swarmed with emotions as she marched down the hall, and she realized she was already late. The new singer everyone had been talking about was giving a private concert for Marie and her entourage. The singer had been here for weeks, and all the other girls were going on about not only his voice, but his looks. She was eager to get a glimpse of him for herself. Polly had been looking forward to this, and now she was doubly annoyed that she’d come in at the tail end of it.

That was the problem with this place, she thought, as she marched down yet another corridor. It was just too big. It was impossible to get anywhere on time.

Polly stepped up her pace, and finally reached the end of another corridor, and two guards opened the immense double doors for her. She walked right through, and as they closed behind her, she was immediately embarrassed.

The entire room turned and looked at her; as the singer continued his performance, she realized she’d interrupted the concert. Her face reddened, as she sank to the back of the room, taking a seat among her friends.

Everyone turned back slowly, and as they did, she settled in, and realized the concert was almost over.

She looked up, and watched, and as she caught the first glimpse of the singer’s face, she was shocked. He was even more gorgeous than everyone had said. He had dark features, with dark eyes and dark, wavy hair. His face was perfectly chiseled. He was so regally dressed, from head to toe, in a black velvet coat, with white stockings, and shiny black shoes. He stood in the center of the small stage, and looked so confident, so in control. He looked like he might be… Russian.

But even more than that: his voice was mesmerizing. As he sang, Polly was transfixed. She was completely riveted, helpless to do anything but listen, helpless to look anywhere else.

Polly was lost in a daze as the singing ended, still staring, still hearing his final notes, while everyone else got up, clapping, and approached him. The entire room crowded around him, and he stood there, smiling, basking in the attention.

Polly slowly made her way through the crowd. She could see the adoration of all the other girls, and she stepped up herself and took a look.

He turned and looked at her, fixing his eyes on her. He seemed to look at her with a bit of disdain, with a brazen, arrogant look, as if to say suggest that she should look up to him.

“I… enjoyed your concert,” Polly said, realizing she was nervous.

“Of course you did,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you?”

The other girls giggled, and Polly thought his comment was somewhat rude. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“Well, if you’re just going to stare like that, you might as well tell me your name,” he said.

Polly stammered, caught off guard. No one had ever talked to her like that before. Part of her told her she should just walk away; but another part just couldn’t bring herself to.

“Polly,” she said breathlessly.

“Polly,” he mimicked back, with a giggle. “Like a bird.”

Polly reddened, as the other girls giggled. She did not know whether she was in love with this man, or hated him. How could he be so arrogant?

“Well, Polly,” he said, with a faint accent, “I’ll have you know my name.”

He slowly held out his hand, which was pale and soft, like a girl’s.

“Sergei,” he announced proudly, as if she should be thrilled to know it.

She took her hand in his, staring, unable to look away.

“Sergei,” she repeated, breathlessly.

And despite herself, despite the fact that he suddenly turned away and talked to the other girls, despite every red flag that screamed for her to walk away, she knew that she was already, hopelessly, in love.

Caitlin woke gently, slowly opening her eyes, feeling completely rested and relaxed. It was the first night in as long as she could remember in which she hadn’t dreamt of her father – in fact, in which she hadn’t dreamt at all. It was also the first time night in as long as she could remember in which she hadn’t been awakened abruptly, when she was able to sleep as long as she would like.

Caitlin woke to sunlight streaming in through the windows on all sides of her, and to the sound, through the open windows, of crashing waves. She could smell the fresh ocean pouring through the room.

She looked over and realized she was sleeping with her head resting on Caleb’s chest. They were both undressed, under the covers, and she was sleeping in his arms.

She looked up, and saw that his eyes were closed, and he was still fast asleep.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Caitlin felt completely at ease. Here, in this place, in this time, in Caleb’s arms, she felt that nothing could ever go wrong. She wanted to freeze the moment, to hold onto it. Finally, it felt like there was nothing threatening on the horizon, nothing looming that could make life change.

Caitlin looked around the room, and glanced at the silver case with her father’s letter inside, still unopened. As she looked at it, she had a moment of worry: she felt that if she opened it, if she read it, it would lead her somewhere, and things would change. She looked away from it, more determined than ever not to open it.

She got up from bed and walked across the room, her bare feet nice and cool on the stone, and took the bejeweled case, and hid it behind a drape. She didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want anything to change. She was determined for nothing to change.

Caitlin slowly got dressed, putting on the new clothes that the nun had given her. She had washed them the night before in the stream, and had hung them out to dry on the edge of a gargoyle outside her window. She was surprised by how fast they had dried, how fresh they had become, as she put them back on. She felt ready to face the day.

Caitlin had to figure out what to do to replace her wardrobe. Now that she was finally settled – and in an enormous castle with endless closet space – she was sure she could figure something out. If need be, she would take up sewing, knitting – whatever was necessary. With all the sheep everywhere, she was sure there had to be a local farmer who sold some kind of clothing. It wouldn’t be 21st century fashion, but then again, that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to blend in, to become a part of this time, this place, these people. More than anything, she just wanted to live here, to make this her home. Whatever they wore, she would be happy to wear, too.

Caitlin opened the huge double glass doors, and stepped out onto the patio. The sun-baked stone felt nice on her feet, and she lifted her chin and felt herself being warmed by the sun. The nun had given her fresh skin wraps, and fresh drops for her eyes, and the sun didn’t bother her at all. On the contrary, it felt good.

She walked to the edge of the banister, placed her hands on it, and gazed out at the horizon. She was caressed by the ocean breezes as she looked out at the endless blue sky, past the rolling hills, and saw the waves crashing in the distance. The beach was completely empty. This seemed to be such a remote place, she wondered if anyone ever came to the beach.

“There you are,” came the voice.