The Four Horsemen(7)

He smiles, "We have to make a plan, Rayne. Your mother is in Ireland or Scotland, if the legends and the sea witches are to be believed. What shall we do?"

I shake my head, "I don’t know. I'm more concerned about my father. Why didn’t he try to help them?"

Constantine frowns, "Who?"

Gretel must have heard. She walks over, "Yes, why didn’t Lucifer assist the devils as you slew them? One would think he almost wanted you to kill them."

I nod, not liking that I am agreeing with her. I still really want to stab her in the eye. I remember Wyatt's father, the angel John. He is always confused as the Book of John. People never realized he was an angel, not a man. The angel of truth and wisdom. I remember when Gretel betrayed him, letting him die. I remember this, and yet, Wyatt is so young. He does not look old enough to be the son of John, but I know he is.

Wyatt sits, "What if it is as the book says it will be? What if the seven seals have to be opened to make the world new and take the spirits of the penitent to God?"

Gretel scoffs, "That is a very inaccurate description of the end of world, firstly. Secondly, that would mean the antichrist and lamb have been born." Her eyes dart to me, "You must be the antichrist this time."

And there it is, his asshole mom calls me Satan. So much for being on my side. Bitch.

I sigh, "I'm not the antichrist, Gretel. I am born of angels, archangels."

She shakes her head, "You have opened the seals, killing the devils must have opened the first five, and we are slowly seeing the end of days. Tribulation is at hand."

I give Constantine a look. He makes a duck face, making Mona laugh, "She calls Rayne Satan and you make a duck face?"

He scowls, "I'm thinking. That’s my thinking face. I made it before ducks existed. It should be called a Basarab face.” He sighs, “She might be right."

Wyatt throws his hands up into the air, "I've heard enough." He grabs my hand, making me instantly sick and drags me through the massive castle. I pull my hand from his, gagging slightly. "Where are we going?"

He gives me that cocky grin, the one that started it all, "A bedroom."

I laugh, "I'll probably die if we have sex now."

He laughs, "I wish."

I gasp, "Ass."

He puts his hands up, "I wish we could have sex, not that you would die. Anyway, that was awkward. My mom and the whole speech—she’s full of it. I need a shower and you need a shower, and I don’t trust my mom. So, we shower together, for safety. You know safety in numbers."

I laugh, "You do wish. No. You can sit on the toilet with my sword while I shower."

He smiles wider, "Sounds good." He turns to walk, but I point the other way, "The bedrooms are over here."

He looks confused, "You remember this place?" A naughty smile plasters itself across my face, "I do, actually."

He winces, "Oh God, I don’t want to know."

"I wasn’t going to tell you."

He gives me a sideways glance as we round the corner to the guest quarters, "You like torturing me."

I smile, "I really do. I really, really do." We get into a room, one I don’t recall. I strip down in the bathroom, "Okay, you can come in." I jump in the shower before he can see me, but then realize the doors are glass. Apparently, Constantine has done some updating. Why couldn’t he update the drafty front room?

The steam and water make the glass hard to see through, but I can still see Wyatt watching me.

"Look the other way."

"No. Come out and make me."

I laugh, "I'm going to kill you, one of these days."

He laughs too, "Can it be during sex? Please."

I roll my eyes and savor the hot water, "Do you think I'm the antichrist?"

"No. I asked Fitz before he died and he thought you were the lamb; now I do too. He always did though."

His words spin in my head, the lamb. The equivalency to Jesus? No way. I pour the lemon balm shampoo into my hand and try desperately to find the answers inside of myself. As I scrub it through my scalp, Willow’s words run through my head.

“You’ll always find your answers in your own heart.”

“Nene, the world is a huge place and the only spot you can worry about is your own garden.”

“There is no sense in worrying about things you don’t truly want to change. If you did, you would have done it already.”

“Eat live enzymes to keep your body’s good bacteria healthy, and don’t eat meat or have sex. They waste your chi.”

I tilt my head back, rinsing it off and nodding. The whole sex thing might have been good advice. I hear the glass door close and I open my eyes. Wyatt is standing across from me, completely naked. I can see the thing I have always sort of been curious about in my peripheral, but I don’t look below sea level.

“Why are you in my shower?”

He gives me the charming smile that normally feels like he is using it to undress me, only I’m naked already. Very naked. “I just thought, why not? You can’t touch me and I can’t touch you, not without you being very sick. So why not?” He steps a little closer across the tiles, smiling down on me. “Why not just take a good,” he steps closer, “hard,” and closer, “look at what we can’t have?”

My body is trembling. I can feel something I didn’t know I had in me. It’s a fire, something fierce. I look down, finally letting myself look at him. The water pours down on us. It feels cool compared to my skin. I swear I can hear a subtle sizzle as each drop lands on my skin. I step back, pressing my back against the wall of tile. He steps into the water, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. I have a filthy want to drag my hands down his chest, feeling his muscles.

He runs his hands through his dark hair, and I can’t take another second of it. I grab his face, fighting the instant wave of sickness and pain. My lips touch his desperately. His hands roughly grab me, pulling me up into him. His body against mine is too much. I cry out into his soft lips, backing away.

His eyes are dark and tormented and he false starts several times. My hands do the same but neither of us move or get closer.

“I want you, Rayne. I’ve wanted you since I saw you order that ridiculous root beer float. I’ve wanted you from the minute you blew me off and even when I realized what you were.” He takes a step back and my throat gets thick. He looks down at my body, his face blushing even beyond the redness he has from the passion we are both fighting. He licks his lips, smiling at the thoughts he isn’t saying.

I whisper my own confession, “I want you too.”

He gives me a hurt look, “I should have been honest with you, from the start. Once I knew what you were, I should have been honest. I did really awful things to the guys you were with. It just made me so mad, ya know? They could be with you and I couldn’t.”

“We can’t change anything.”

He drops to his knee on the tiles and looks up at me. His eyes narrow from the water splashing from my body onto his face. “I should have asked you last time. I shouldn’t have assumed it was the best thing for you.” He stalls. I can see the hesitation on his face, but he still says what he is thinking. “I handfasted with you in hopes that it would be something else. I know you think it was so I could track you, and it was. But it was so I could keep you safe.”

“Why did you get engaged?”

He looks hurt and sighs, “I was born engaged, Rayne. Born that way. I was born ages ago. It takes us centuries to mature, we age so slowly. They say it’s the fae in our blood. I’ve been engaged for hundreds of years.”

I nod slowly, “The other me remembers your mother and Jonathan together.” I look down on him, “Why are you kneeling?”

“Handfast with me again, I bet there is a fire witch who is stronger than the other who can put it back.”

I almost nod, but the memory of the other fire witch eating my broken handfast wax and the evil I ate from her, comes back. I shake my head.

His face pinches, “I said I was sorry and I meant it. How many times must I apologize?”

I want to cry, but instead I offer him a smile, “It will always be one more time.”

He nods, “Then I will say it every day for the rest of our lives in hopes of catching up.”

I can’t help but grin at that. It’s hopeful and ridiculous. When I open my mouth, words fall out. I don’t mean for them to, but they do. “I love you, Wyatt.”

He nods, I can see a fire behind his eyes, “I love you too.”

I can’t technically feel for him. That’s locked away or lost in the multiple personalities inside of me, but I know I love him. It’s my heart’s truth.

He looks like he’s won the lottery but he doesn’t move, “When we fix this horsemen situation, do you promise to try again?”

I nod. He stands up again, looking down on me. Goddamned, he is sexy! The way his hair drips water down onto his face, and the way his eyes melt my soul, it’s too much. I grab his face again, wincing as the instant pain and suffering is there. I fight it, brushing the softest kiss against his lips. I’m shaking in pain when he backs away. I can feel sweat forming on my brow. I lean into the water and close my eyes. When I open them, he’s gone. I know I’m sad. Tears fill my eyes and I cry into the shower water, but I can’t feel the heartbreak of not being able to have the thing I want.