The Search For Shattered Pieces *Complete*

Chapter Six: Expect the Unexpected

Lyra:

Running...okay, speed walking in skates is a really stupid idea.  For the record, you should never try to  make an escape while wearing ice skates—It's a truly, monumentally stupid idea.
    Currently I'm brushing off the gravel from my knees and taking stock of the damage done to my skin and torn tights. Yup, that's what happens when you're running away like a coward from your totally too-hot-to-handle stepbrother.
    "You are in deep, deep, dog doodoo, Lyra," I mutter to myself, as I scrape the last remnants of gravel from my legs and begin to make my way up to Buckingham Palace. I notice I'm hobbling a little (serves me right) and promise myself that I'll ice my knees and ankles the second I get into the house. "They're just boys, Lyra..." the fuck you say, they're definitely not boys, more like seriously gorgeous men, okay, shut up Lyra, you'd think you'd never seen men before. Well...most of the men you saw were either batting for the other team or three times your age and hitting on you. But that is really neither here nor there. The point is...well...just think of them as...as...skaters...yes...they're just skaters, like Dominic, the one boy I had let get close to me, he was totally hot, seriously hot, and seriously gay. Right. Just think of your new stepbrothers as hot, gay skaters. Yes. That'll work.
    Fuck. You are so freaking screwed.  I make it to the back door, the one attached to the restaurant level kitchen that Buckingham Palace sports, and tentatively open the door, remembering what Bethany had told me about not needing to knock.  I still feel weird, won't lie, but I'm trying at least.  When I step through the first thing that assails my senses is the truly magnificent, life-saving scent of coffee.  And if my nose isn't deceiving me, this isn't crappy coffee either...no Folgers crystals here.  No, this is truly mouthwatering, drool inducing Columbian roast...probably mined and mixed with freaking gold knowing this family.
"Oh my God...take me to your leader..." I mutter, already trying to locate the source of the mouthwatering smell.
"I'll take that to mean you would like a cup...or two?"
I jerk around and come face-to-face with Zachariah.  I swallow and plaster a smile, albeit a rather fake smile on my face.  Can't help myself, my nerves are quivering and I'm trying to keep it together and failing pathetically.
"Uh, yeah, I mean, yes.  Yes, thank you, I'd love a cup...a very large cup."
Zachariah laughs and begins moving around the kitchen efficiently.  It's clear that he knows the lay out and has done this a million times before. 
"One very large cup of coffee coming right up for the lady." While he moves around the kitchen I watch him...hell...it's impossible not to watch him.  He's freaking gorgeous.  Tall, muscular, broad shouldered, and in the light of day, in natural light, even more beautiful than he was last night.  My heart skips a beat and I mentally chastise myself—again.  This is all sorts of wrong.  I should not find him attractive.  Remember Lyra, skater, gay skater, hot yes, but batting for the other team.  Think sparkles, and feathers...and painting his nails...think...well think anything but what you're thinking now idiot!
    "So, Lyra..." Zachariah comes around the kitchen island holding a very large mug of coffee...and God it smells like ambrosia. I mentally have to check myself to make sure I'm not actually drooling. He holds out the coffee and I know the moment he sees me...all of me. His eyes narrow, and darken and I instinctively take a small step back. "What happened to you?" His voice is low and filled with tension.
    I wave away his concern, I relax my posture, trying with my body language to put him at ease. "It's nothing, really.  I don't even feel it.  Can I have that mana from heaven?"
Zachariah cocks his head to the side.  "You can have it when you tell me what happened."
Seriously? He was holding my coffee hostage? Fine.  If that's what it took to get my golden elixir. "Entirely my own fault," I waved at my feet, "I fell because I was stupid and didn't stop to put my guards on."  Hell, even with skate guards on you shouldn't walk around outside of the rink.  His eyes widened, as he took in the fact that I was wearing ice skates for the first time.
"You were down at the rink?" He sounded confused.
I nod, holding out my hand.  "Coffee please."
Zachariah hands me the coffee, his eyes still look troubled.  "Does Trent know?"
Now I'm confused.  Why does it matter if Trent knows that I'm skating?  "Probably not.  I mean, I haven't seen him since I forced him to drink my hangover remedy." I'm watching Zachariah's face, a myriad of expressions cross it.  "Uhm..." I finally speak, unsettled by the silence, "...is he awake? Is he feeling okay?"
Zachariah nods. "Yes, he was feeling remarkably well considering how much he drank last night.  Honestly..." Zachariah frowns, "...You're a better person than I...I would have left him to wallow in his misery, he deserved it."
I smile slightly.  "Yes, he probably did...but I couldn't." I sigh.  "He looked so miserable.  Not to mention I think he was two seconds from throwing up on me." I take a big gulp of the coffee and moan, it's just that good. I look up over the rim to see Zachariah staring at me with an unnerving intent expression on his face. "Uhm....what?"
    Zachariah smiles slightly. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone enjoy their coffee just that much."
    "Well...if you've drunk coffee that tastes more like lighter fluid for most of your life...then you'd understand my reaction."
    "Trust me," he grins, "I like your reaction."
    Okaaay. What exactly does he mean by that. "Well...uhm...I should probably get cleaned up." Zachariah focuses  immediately on my bleeding knees and his frown becomes fierce. Shit. I probably shouldn't have mentioned getting cleaned up.
    "Sit." Zachariah says. The tone of his voice brooks no nonsense.
    "I can deal with it. Truly it's nothing."
    "Lyra, sit your ass down."
    My eyes widen at the authority in his voice, and I gulp. I sit down on one of the bar stools. "Zachariah..."
    "Zach, call me Zach."
    "Uhm, okay, Zach. Seriously, I can take care of this. It really is nothing. I've handled a lot worse than this before."
    Zach looks at me intently, "What do you mean?"
    I bite my lip, "I...uhm...I've had a lot of injuries...it kinda comes from the territory."
    "And what territory would that be, Lyra?"
    "Well...when you skate for 90% of your life," I laugh, "...you kinda expect that you're gonna get some scrapes."
"You skate?"
I laugh.  "Uhm, Zach, I think we covered that question already.  You did just kinda ask me that same question like uh, five minutes ago."
Zach clears his throat.  "Sorry...usually I'm more, uh, eloquent than this."
He's charming.  I find my insides liquefying and I try to keep the blush from crawling up my face.  I'm losing the battle, I'm sure.
"What I meant, I guess, is that you skate more than, just every so often...as a hobby?"
I nod.  "Well, yeah.  Honestly, mom had me on skates when I was three.  I would have laced them on as soon as I could walk if she would have let me," my grin widens as a memory hits me, "...In fact, I'm pretty sure I remember putting my feet into my mom's skates when I was a toddler...yeah, she didn't let me get too far."
"I can see that..."
"What? Me falling over in my mom's much too big skates?" I laugh.
Zach shakes his head, his expression is still unnerving me.  It's like he's looking into the heart of me.
"No...I can see you as a skater.  You, you're all graceful lines, you have beautiful hands too, and you have the build of a skater...or a dancer," he shrugs slightly, "although I'd imagine that you dance as well, if you're skating seriously."
I nod dumbly.  Did he just say I have graceful lines, pretty hands...and that I have the build of a skater? A compliment? When was the last time I had received a compliment from someone other than my mom? "Oh, well, uh, thank you." My cheeks are on fire now. I feel like I'm burning up, and I wish I knew a way to get rid of the blush that I knew had taken over my face entirely.