To the end

“What did you do to me? How in the world am I here?” Sniffling, she wanted to back away from him, to hide under the blankets, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to move from his warm body.

“You don’t remember, do you?” It was weird to hear him speak like a normal person. Majesta wanted him to have that Irish brogue forever, but something told her that he did this to blend in.

“Remember what?” Majesta said, looking up at him. She hadn’t noticed the hair or face last time, but today she did. Majesta saw the red hair that ran down to his shoulders and looked like fire spilling down his face. His chiseled face showed no signs of age, like crow’s feet by the eyes. Almond shaped green eyes seemed to hide under his unruly eyebrows. A slight scar on his right cheek and a dimple on his chin, even with his ghostly complexion he was handsome.

“I brought you here to be my bride. I have looked for you for over five hundred years. The last time I found you…well… Grá mo chroí, you were taken from me in a horrible accident,” Craven said with such tenderness in his voice.

Majesta pulled away from him and finally really looked at him. He didn’t look over twenty-five, but then again, she was never great with age. As she looked, she noticed that he seemed to hide behind his hair, maybe to keep her from seeing him. Majesta lifted her hands running them through his thick hair. It felt like silk on her fingers, and she heard him moan slightly from the touch. It gave her great joy to make him feel good, but it bothered her that she could find joy in that. Finally, she pushed his hair out of his face and looked him in the eyes without the falling into the sea feel to them. In that one look she knew so many things, one was that she should fear this man.

“I am not sure, I am who you think I am. People will look for me and if they find me here, they will kill you,” Majesta decided to try and get him to take her home.

“I am willing to take that chance… Grá mo chroí,” Craven told her. He took her chin in his hand to kiss her lush lips.

“I wish you would tell me what you are saying; I don’t understand. You would die to keep me with you? Why?” Majesta asked. Moving her face before he could kiss her. It was something in her mind that told her that a simple kiss would be more than that with this man.

“That is simple, and I know you can feel the pull just as I can. You had the dreams and I am sure they scared you to death. The fighting that took so much life. It was a horrible way to live. In time I will tell you what they mean…Just not now…” he said as he leaned into her. She wanted to pull away, but something kept her there. Maybe it was the feel of his silken hair on her bare skin, or the fact that his lips felt like petals. Majesta couldn’t stop the kiss this time and she was the one that pushed it further. He pulled away from her. She sighed into his chest. Taking in that scent of clove and something else, it was an aroma she had smelled before, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Dreams… So many dreams of fire that burned flesh from bone. Knowing that the death would come in the end, but not the way I expect it. To see and know the pain that shows in other’s eyes. Fear chases me in the dreams, but I know I can trust you from the dreams,” Majesta told him the simple truth. That the dreams showed her a fiery death.

“You have no idea what I am?” Craven, he seemed to question her.

“You are a man; I am not sure what kind of man though.” she said, running her hand up his chest and into his hair again. Majesta. Why was she touching him in this manner? It was too forward for her, not normal for her.

“Mo anam cara, I am a man, but there is more to that. You have no idea what you have fallen into. I can’t see you die again, it would kill me,” Craven said with a sigh, pulling her hands out of his hair. The spell that she had fallen into by looking into his eyes was snapped

Anger was starting to flare in her heart, and she knew that she didn’t really want any part of his life. This man was nothing but death. It pissed her off that she wanted him so much, and yet she didn’t. Something was telling her to get away from him. Pulling the blanket up over her naked body. Majesta looked at herself and then at him and got angry.

“Where are my clothes?” Majesta screamed at him.

“They were dirty and soaked, so I took them off you and had them cleaned,” Craven told her with a hint of joy in his eyes.

“What else did you do?” Majesta asked, fear and anger mixing in her voice.

“I am not an animal. I would never take advantage of a young woman. Let alone you!” He seemed angry and hurt that she would suggest that he would rape her. That thought alone upset her, but she didn’t recall wanting him to have her in that manner. She had flashes of him raping her. Memories flashed but nothing that would stick, something wasn’t right in her mind. This man didn’t seem like the type that would take advantage of her, but her mind was playing tricks on her at the same time. Majesta was shivering under the blanket, and it really wasn’t that cold in the room. It had to be more than just the fact that she was nude. Craven seemed to notice that she wasn’t very comfortable and moved off the bed, finding the only other chair in the room. Majesta sighed with relief that he wasn’t close enough to touch anymore. She worried that she would never be able to get away from him.

“Then why do I feel like we did more than you are saying? I know that I wouldn’t have fallen into your bed without someone doing something to me,” The blankets held tight to her chest. Though that statement seemed like a lie even to her ears.

“It is the eyes that take you to another place, to make you see things from your past life. The way things used to be before,” his voice cracked, and she thought he would cry. “They killed you…with fire.”

“It melted me…I can feel the flames on my skin when I have the dreams. You stood in the shadows and cried for me. Then you shot me with an arrow, right through the heart.” Majesta gasped and felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was bad enough to want him; it was something else to know how he had killed her. She knew that it really wasn’t her that had died, but her soul. People had told her many times that she had an old soul, but this proved it. He had said that he had been looking for her for over five hundred years. That worried her that he was something other than human.

“I took your heart, for I couldn’t bear to see you die that way. Your silken hair would have burned if they had not cut it to the scalp. Never really understood why they saved the person that horror,” Craven told her then templed his fingers under his chin.

“You didn’t leave after the arrow, did you?” Majesta asked, but she knew the answer already.

“No, mo anam cara,” Craven said. She stood and pulled the blanket with her; Majesta walked across the room to stand in front of him. Looking into his face, but not into his eyes. She knew the color and the depths of his soul and the horrors that he had watched that day. Once in front of him, she went to her knees and laid her hands on his knees. She knew right away that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth