The Year 3000

Chapter 12: Long Kept Secret

Scarlett's POV

Previously:

"You don't have to worry about any of that right now, though. For now, all you need to do is stay here and forget about Harry and the Palace, along with all the terrible memories it holds for you. Just pretend it never happened." Luke's low, lilting voice was filled with a uncommon gentleness as he spoke, chasing away my fears for now with his soft words.

If only it were that simple to forget.

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The next few weeks at the camp were unbelievably peaceful, and I enjoyed every slow second of it. After everything with Harry and the Palace, dull was exactly what I needed. I was safe and away from Harry. Ashton and I continued teaching the younger kids how to shoot, and they were all improving rapidly. Earlier this week, Luke, Ashton, and I had a meeting with the camp elders. Werewolves and other soldiers were, in fact, being recruited from Australia, and the plans for an attack on the Palace were slowly being put into place. Everywhere, in every corridor, excitement was radiating off of all the Rebellion members as preparations were made. God only knew how long we had all waited for this moment. Still, a lot of things needed to be planned and sorted out. Armor, weapons, and other things were all being produced as fast as humanly possible, but progress was still slow thanks to our limited resources. The elders had managed to get in touch with several of the surrounding camps, and they were all doing their part to contribute. The date for attack hadn't been set yet, but the preparations were enough to have everyone dreaming of a day without vampires.

Luke hadn't left me alone since he brought me back. As soon as I would wake, Luke would be glued to my side along with Ashton. They followed me as I ate my breakfast and started my chores. Both were still afraid that I would try and go back to Harry, even after I promised I wouldn't. Frankly, just the thought of seeing Harry again made my heart thump painfully and the air disappear from my lungs. Plus, with the attack happening soon enough, there was no need for me to go back.

As the days passed, I felt myself becoming more and more attached to Luke. For the first four nights in a row, my screaming fits had woken him, and he had come dashing in to comfort me as he had done before. I was ashamed at first, but Luke's steady presence was a crutch I physically needed to put myself back together, and after the second night of pushing him away, I finally relented.

We met for breakfast every single morning, did our chores together, taught shooting lessons together, ate dinner together. He made me laugh and forget, and I needed that more than anything. I looked forward to seeing him everyday and hated leaving him at night. Everything about him just screamed warmth and sunshine, and when I was in his presence, all of my worries, all of my fears, simply melted away like fallen snow. It wasn't until, for whatever reason, we weren't together that I really noticed how much he had become a staple in my life, and as much as that terrified me, I couldn't bring myself to rely on him any less. It would be like tearing off my own skin. I just wasn't that strong.

Recently, though, I could feel something shifting in the air between us, tangible but fleeting as sand falling between my fingers. It came in the form of lingering glances, stolen between a word of advice to a student during shooting lessons; the brushing of our hands as we walked side-by-side through the corridors. Mostly, though, it was in way I started noticing smaller details about him—the delicate curve of his neck whenever he bent in his head in concentration; the tautness of his shoulder muscles beneath his shirt whenever he would pull the string back on a bow, ready to fire; the small crinkles that would form next to his electric blue eyes whenever he laughed. With each passing day, I found myself noticing some small new feature about him that made my chest flutter oddly, but not unpleasantly. He was beautiful—I had known that from the day I met him—but this was more than that. It was the way I was seeing him, as if in a new light, one not completely without desire.