Page 20 of Embers of Fate
She was a vision in her black evening gown, a precious raven with dark, captivating eyes and plump, glossy lips that begged to be kissed. Her smooth, bare shoulders and flawless fair skin haunt my every thought. I can’t stop replaying the memory of her furtive smile, the way she swept me with that striking first glance when I showed up at her home. It all took me back to that unforgettable night at the club, the heat and passion that ignited between us.
“Fires of hell!” I growl, pushing the covers off me in frustration. It’s no use. Sleep won’t come, not when my mind is consumed with thoughts of her. Sluggishly, I sit up in bed, my body heavy with exhaustion but my mind buzzing with restless energy. How the devil can I reach her? The need to see her again, to hold her in my arms and taste her sweet lips, is a physical ache in my chest. I know I won’t find peace until I do.
An idea sparks in my mind, sending my pulse skyrocketing. What if I look her up?Everyone is Googleable,a friend once told me. Let’s find out if they were right... With trembling fingers, I reach over to the night table and grab my cellphone.
I type her name. Samara Alexeev. And then I wait, my heart pounding in my ears.
A Facebook profile pops up in the search results. Just one. My breath catches in my throat as I click on it, hope and anticipation warring in my chest.
The profile picture is of full, carmine lips, parted to reveal a glittering diamond tongue piercing. Is that... her? I frown, trying to remember if I felt any tongue rings when we kissed. But the memory is hazy, lost in the heat of the moment.
The profile isn’t private, but there’s little information to be found. No pictures, no activity. Disappointment settles heavy in my gut, but I refuse to let it deter me. Am I so desperate to see her that I’d DM a complete stranger?
The answer isyes. Yes, I am.
With shaking fingers, I type out a message.
NIK: Is that you?
I press send before I can second-guess myself, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest. Minutes pass in absolute agony, each second feeling like an eternity. I stare at the screen, barely daring to breathe.
Nothing happens.
Despair crashes over me like a tidal wave. I’m an idiot. How could I think it would be that easy? With a frustrated grunt, I toss the phone away, disgusted with myself. I suppose I could always go back to her house, but the thought is laughable. Saying I’m not welcome at the Bear King’s manor would be a major understatement. Any chance of that ever happening has been blown to smithereens, thanks to Bram.
I collapse back onto the mattress, my eyes fixed on the ceiling as hopelessness settles over me like a suffocating blanket.
Fuck. I shouldn’t even be thinking about her. Tensions between our families are high enough as it is. I wince, sweeping a hand across my face as the reality of the situation sinks in. I’m so screwed. But the thing is, I don’t really give a damn about any of it. She’s all I want, all I can think about.
Suddenly, the phone buzzes. A notification. A message. My heart leaps into my throat. Could it be her? Is it really her? In a frenzy of flailing limbs, I scramble across the bed, reaching for the phone. But in my haste, my legs tangle in the sheets and comforter. I stumble and crash to the floor. “Gah! Fuck!” I curse, pain shooting through my body.
Another message rings out, taunting me.
“Fuck! Fuck!” I growl, kicking and thrashing to free myself from the twisted sheets. In my struggle, I knock the lamp off the night table, sending it crashing down onto my head. “OW!” I yelp, clutching the back of my skull. Fucking bronze stand. Pain throbs through my neck, but I don’t feel any blood. Small mercies.
One more message pushes through, and I want to scream in frustration.
This cannot be happening to me.
At last, I manage to untangle myself from the sheets and comforter, the lamp cord no longer a snare around my legs. I crawl across the carpeted floor, my eyes scanning frantically for my phone. If it is her, she’s going to think I’m the kind of guy who finds pleasure in stringing her along, only to bail and make himself seem more interesting. “Gods no!” I groan, hauling myself to my feet and flicking on the lights.
I rake my fingers through my hair, heaving a heavy sigh as I survey the destruction I’ve wrought. My gaze sweeps the floor, searching for my elusive phone.
Another message rings out, and I could weep with relief. I follow the sound, dropping to my knees and fishing the phone out from under the bed. How the devil did it get there?
My stomach clenches as I read the green banner on the screen.
Ongoing Call to Samara Alexeev
With my heart pounding in a wild, erratic rhythm, I bring the phone to my ear, my voice shaking as I answer. “Hello?”
“Nik, are you alright?” Her voice is like honey, sweet and smooth, with an undercurrent of concern.
“Who is this?” I ask, even though I know, even though every fiber of my being is screaming that it’s her.
“It’s Sam. You texted me, then called me?” Her tone is skeptical, questioning. “Are you okay? I heard some struggle over there...”
“Sam, hey...” I straighten, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” It’s not, but I can’t let her know that. “So, um... Yeah. I texted you.” I start pacing the room, my nerves crackling with energy.
