AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Speechless, he watched her, smoothing the poem upon his knee. Her fingers twisted the rope of pearls at her throat. They had been restrung.
Nathan.
When she said his name, her voice echoed in his soul, bringing with it the itch he had experienced before. Her voice was seraphic and desire broke over him, leaving a sheen of sweat.
Can you see me?
He felt unreal. He felt unsure of his lucidity. He felt he may black out.
Yes.
His eyes rested upon the poem. Thank you.
I had to. A presence was with her, itchy and disturbing.
Fucking John LeClair.
Are you alone?
No. Please go away.
If she said those words a thousand times, Nathan would never heed them. He knew her need. Never, he vowed. I’m coming.
Don’t. You can’t. A mixture of fear and joy. He clung to the joy.
His heart swelled. I’ll follow my star, he said and let her go.
He surfaced a new man, resurrected as immortal mate.
She is mine, he told himself over and over. He hadn’t truly believed it until now. He wanted to run through the train, screaming his news to the world. He touched his jacket pocket, thinking to call Dante, then decided against it.
He gazed out the same window Lillian had stared from hours before and relived every sensation of their interaction—the cadence of her breathing, her heat, the pulsing life of her soul.
I will follow my star until I find you, Lillian. And nothing will stop me. Not miles of train track. Not an entire country.
Not John LeClair.
* * *
The small collection of trinkets in Nathan’s pocket was growing, but Lillian’s was as well. He had visited the art gallery, and seen her reaction to the rose. She carried it in her handbag, but when she looked upon it, her heart had truly unfurled to him. Her words revolved in his head.
Nathan Halbrook. Nathan. Nate. Mine.
She was in the air again, on a red-eye to Chicago. Nathan dreaded setting foot upon another jet, but what choice was there?
He could go directly to her Virginia home and wait for her there. After all, he had sent a postcard to that address to greet her.
But he was closing the gap. He was hours behind her, where he had once been a day. If John LeClair would stop moving her?—
Thinking of the man raised that bone-deep itch again.
Nathan squirmed. The tremors from the Calling were irritating, but this itch was fucking maddening. He threaded his fingers into his hair, wishing he could stop it.
What happened when he caught up to her? I’ll tear her from John LeClair. He will look at me and see her mark on my soul. I will kill him if he tries to stop me from taking her.
Another Vision trickled over him. Tendrils of mahogany hair dancing on the wind, a white lily tucked behind her ear. He inhaled, smelling her on the breeze. Twisting hands. Silver bracelets. What color were her eyes? Not knowing that small detail was nearly as aggravating as the itch.
He cradled the slip of creased paper on his palm, gazing at her writing with as much tenderness as he would look upon the woman herself. “I’m coming, Lillian,” he said to the dark blot over the “I,” to the long tail on the “g.”
