shadow leaning over me fits the voice. But I’ve been prone the last two months to attributing every shadow, every voice, and every face to him. “Ethan? Is that you?”
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I wish things were different. Sleep well,” my benefactor says before leaning over and giving me a kiss on my forehead. I feel the drugs pull me under and I succumb to an imagined deep sleep in Ethan’s arms.
CHAPTER TWO
Ethan
I receive the call I never expected.
“Ted found a pure-bred Light … not too far from you. Carmel Valley High,” the familiar voice purrs. “Her blood work was a work of art. I suggest you high tail it over there and check her out.”
“ A female pure Light? Impossible. Even if that’s true, what’s the hurry? Why not wait until she’s there? I assume she’s headed your way at least,” I say, hardly jumping for joy. There’s nothing less romantic than a blood panel preceding every date. Thus, I’ve resisted my father’s archaic Cleaving process my entire life and don’t see any reason to succumb now, just because he’s finally dredged up a suitable candidate two years post-deadline.
“Two reasons. One, she’s reluctant to go—has a boyfriend tying her down or something. She’s going to need some motivation , which I’ve already got in motion . And two, you have competition. Ted also found a pure-bred Dark male with a cleaner medical history than you have. A classmate of hers.” I hear worry in his voice. Despite my father’s immense power in my hometown’s political climate, the rules are pretty clear. It’s unlikely I have a shot with her, even if I want one.
“I don’t see any reason to bother if there’s another heir apparent,” I say. “If I wasn’t suitable for anyone there, why would I be trusted with a pure-bred Light, the likes of which haven’t been seen in centuries?”
“ I have yet to be convinced that either is suitable for our needs. You are the only eyes and ears there I fully trust. Watch them,” he says, following with very specific instructions as to my assignment. His tone belies his mistruth. He doesn’t trust anyone, much less me.
Disappointment looms. Either she’ll be dreadful and forced my way or spectacular and forced the other guy’s way. There’s yet to be a situation that clearly weighs in my favor.
The moment I see her my faulty heart swells with misplaced hope. Why couldn’t the other Dark have been born with a defective heart? My childhood was nothing less than pathetic. I spent my first dozen years locked in a one hundred-fifty square foot, sterile room to ‘protect my health,’ or realistically to hide the extent of my abnormality from the rest of my parents’ colleagues. As a result, I’m horribly claustrophobic.
Most of the human contact I had during my youth was with my parents and the medical staff. I spent a hundred times more time with Doctor Christo, my heart specialist, than my father. A wise, white-haired man, Dr. Christo augmented my standard-fare ‘home studies’ schooling with curriculum designed ‘for the very elite.’ My parents wanted me well versed in the family business and Dr. Christo wanted me well versed in ‘the great universal truths.’ This filled 8-10 hours a day.
My early years conspicuously lacked affection, playtime, supervision, or fun. From the age of twelve to fifteen my interactions with other kids were sparse, leaving me shy and awkward. My one consistent ‘friend’ aka forced playmate and classmate has been Jax, Dr. Christo’s son, a know-it-all boy with a superiority complex. As I kid, he forced me to call him King Jax and bossed me around incessantly. Still does. He’s infuriating, but all I have.
Eventually, after a dozen-odd surgeries, my health improved and my parents chose to foist me on my Uncle Henry, to ‘further’ my education and ‘prepare me for my destiny’. Forget free will. Forget personal choice. My parents assume their agenda trumps my agenda. Today’s
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I wish things were different. Sleep well,” my benefactor says before leaning over and giving me a kiss on my forehead. I feel the drugs pull me under and I succumb to an imagined deep sleep in Ethan’s arms.
CHAPTER TWO
Ethan
I receive the call I never expected.
“Ted found a pure-bred Light … not too far from you. Carmel Valley High,” the familiar voice purrs. “Her blood work was a work of art. I suggest you high tail it over there and check her out.”
“ A female pure Light? Impossible. Even if that’s true, what’s the hurry? Why not wait until she’s there? I assume she’s headed your way at least,” I say, hardly jumping for joy. There’s nothing less romantic than a blood panel preceding every date. Thus, I’ve resisted my father’s archaic Cleaving process my entire life and don’t see any reason to succumb now, just because he’s finally dredged up a suitable candidate two years post-deadline.
“Two reasons. One, she’s reluctant to go—has a boyfriend tying her down or something. She’s going to need some motivation , which I’ve already got in motion . And two, you have competition. Ted also found a pure-bred Dark male with a cleaner medical history than you have. A classmate of hers.” I hear worry in his voice. Despite my father’s immense power in my hometown’s political climate, the rules are pretty clear. It’s unlikely I have a shot with her, even if I want one.
“I don’t see any reason to bother if there’s another heir apparent,” I say. “If I wasn’t suitable for anyone there, why would I be trusted with a pure-bred Light, the likes of which haven’t been seen in centuries?”
“ I have yet to be convinced that either is suitable for our needs. You are the only eyes and ears there I fully trust. Watch them,” he says, following with very specific instructions as to my assignment. His tone belies his mistruth. He doesn’t trust anyone, much less me.
Disappointment looms. Either she’ll be dreadful and forced my way or spectacular and forced the other guy’s way. There’s yet to be a situation that clearly weighs in my favor.
The moment I see her my faulty heart swells with misplaced hope. Why couldn’t the other Dark have been born with a defective heart? My childhood was nothing less than pathetic. I spent my first dozen years locked in a one hundred-fifty square foot, sterile room to ‘protect my health,’ or realistically to hide the extent of my abnormality from the rest of my parents’ colleagues. As a result, I’m horribly claustrophobic.
Most of the human contact I had during my youth was with my parents and the medical staff. I spent a hundred times more time with Doctor Christo, my heart specialist, than my father. A wise, white-haired man, Dr. Christo augmented my standard-fare ‘home studies’ schooling with curriculum designed ‘for the very elite.’ My parents wanted me well versed in the family business and Dr. Christo wanted me well versed in ‘the great universal truths.’ This filled 8-10 hours a day.
My early years conspicuously lacked affection, playtime, supervision, or fun. From the age of twelve to fifteen my interactions with other kids were sparse, leaving me shy and awkward. My one consistent ‘friend’ aka forced playmate and classmate has been Jax, Dr. Christo’s son, a know-it-all boy with a superiority complex. As I kid, he forced me to call him King Jax and bossed me around incessantly. Still does. He’s infuriating, but all I have.
Eventually, after a dozen-odd surgeries, my health improved and my parents chose to foist me on my Uncle Henry, to ‘further’ my education and ‘prepare me for my destiny’. Forget free will. Forget personal choice. My parents assume their agenda trumps my agenda. Today’s
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