13
BODY AND BLOOD
When I reached Moscow, I was exhausted. My body ached and my arm throbbed. I stopped at a drug store and bought some cleansing face wipes and a brush and hair bands, then I got a cab back to the hotel. In the car, I brushed through my hair and pulled it into a smoother ponytail, and I wiped the grit and dirt off my face, neck and hands, which made me feel considerably better than I had. Traveling the way I did, without bathing or resting or even going inside, was tough. I tried to make myself look presentable before I walked back into the nicest hotel in the city.
The manager of the Hotel National was in the lobby when I returned. He greeted me by name and then wondered, silently, where I had been. I ignored that and greeted him back, but he stopped me.
"Ms. Matthau," he said, in heavily accented English, "you have had a guest arrive for you," he said. My chest tightened. "He asked to see you, but we respect your privacy, so we did not tell him you were away. But because you are such a grand customer, we gave him a room, free of charge. He is there now," he said. I frantically searched the manager's mind for an image of my visitor, but his memory of the man's face was fuzzy. It could have been anyone.
"Thank you so much," I said. "I would like to see him."
"We could send him to your suite, if you like?" he suggested.
I nodded. "Please do," I said. "Thank you again."
I wanted to run full speed up the emergency stairs up to my suite, but I had to remain composed. So I just quickly went to the elevator and waited the eternity it took to get to my floor. No one was in my hallway, so I ran to my door and let myself in. I had only a few minutes before my mystery guest arrived. I stripped my dirty clothes and flipped through my suitcase to find something decent to wear. I could hear footsteps coming down my hall before I had even decided what to put on. I quickly threw on the dress I'd worn in London because it was lying out from before I left, and I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and smoothed it. I rubbed my lips with lip balm and dusted my face with powder and blush. The bell to my suite rang as I was jumping back into my boots. He was here.
I could hear absolutely nothing from the other side of the door, so either it was Mark projecting or I had completely lost my focus, which was possible. Without even checking, I flung the door open.
"Oh, thank God!" I yelped.
It was Everett Winter.
He was every bit as beautiful as I remembered him—the piercing green eyes, a broad smile on his face as I threw my arms around his neck. He squeezed me tight and lifted me off the ground.
"Sadie," he breathed into my ear, kissing the side of my head. "Oh, Sadie," he repeated. I couldn't bring myself to let go, and he laughed softly. He carried me farther into the room, closing the door behind us.
"I knew you would come!" I exclaimed. "I've missed you so much," I said breathlessly. As soon as I spoke the words, I knew how true it was. I couldn't stand to be away from him for one more second.
"I've missed you, too. I haven't been able to function without you," he said. We were still just standing there, holding each other.
"I thought you might hate me," he said. "I was so worried."
I jerked back from him. "Why did you think that?" I asked, concerned.
"Because," he said, "I left you behind. And no one has even so much as told you we were alive." I rolled my eyes at the colloquialism. "I can't imagine how that made you feel," he said. "I'm so sorry."
I put my hands around his waist and pulled him in, but I leaned back so I could see his face. "I'm not going to lie to you. It was terrible being apart from you. But this is all I was waiting for, all I ever wanted," I said. He was relieved. "I've just missed you so much," I said again, unable to come up with anything else to say. I sank my head into his hard chest. I couldn't believe he was really there. I had played this moment over and over again in my head, and now it was happening.
He wrapped his big arms around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head three times. I looked up at him and he bent his head toward me, cautiously leaning toward my lips. I freed one of my hands from around his waist and placed it on his neck. His skin was so cool, but just like it had months before, the contact felt hot. He closed the tiny distance between us until our lips met.
His sterling silver lips were exactly as I remembered them. His breath was just the same. The feel of his face was smooth and cool, too. It felt like perfection as I ran my fingers over it.
He parted his lips slightly, and I fit my lips between his. His tongue ran over my bottom lip. I shivered. I had never felt that before. I lost my concentration for a second.
He noticed it. "Everything okay?" he asked, his voice cracking as he said it.
"Everything's fine," I said. I pressed our foreheads together and then kissed him lightly again once and then again for good measure. Then I took his hand and stepped to the couch. I let myself fall backward, taking him with me. I forgot how exhausted I was. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so dead."
He smiled. "You were out exploring, eh?"
"Yeah. How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Since yesterday," he said.
I sighed. "A whole day of Everett just wasted!" I joked. "How'd you find me?"
"I have my ways," he smiled deviously. I swatted him with the back of my hand. "What? I can't give it all away. There'd be no mystery left in the relationship, and then where would we be?" He laughed again.
"Relationship?" I squeaked. I was instantly nervous. Had I misinterpreted that? Or did he mean relationship?
He righted his posture so he was hovering over me a little. "You think I came to Russia—a place that, it turns out, is just as dark and cold as I imagined it—so some other guy could sweep you off your feet?" he asked. He stroked my face and moved my hair out of my eyes. "Sadie, maybe I wasn't clear enough. I literally accomplished nothing for the last three months. I was a moody jackass to my whole family. I have spent every second wondering about you, worried about you, wanting to be with you. I lie in bed every single night and remember what it felt like to kiss you. I envision your face, your smile, your hair," he said, stroking the strands gently. "I just want to look into these pretty purple eyes every day for the rest of my existence. I get lost looking at you. It's some kind of nirvana I've never experienced before."
I swallowed hard, enamored. "I know exactly what you mean."
YOU ARE READING
The Survivors
Paranormal"It's unlike any paranormal book I've read--very smart, very fresh, and very addictive, and very still in my mind." –And Anything Bookish In 1692, when witch trials gripped the community of Salem, Massachusetts, twenty-six children were accused as w...