Never Broken
By cheeky-chaos
Chapter Eight:
Sloane's Hideout
Groaning, I came awake for a second time, my body still throbbing painfully from whatever drug Sloane had given me. "Sydney?" came a very soft, yet very familiar voice. "Sydney?"
I groaned again, this time letting my eyes flicker open. Almost immediately I shut them again, the light far too bright. "Sydney?" the voice came again, this time more insistent. "Open your eyes, Sydney."
"No." I ground out, my throat raw and painful. "Too bright."
Suddenly the excruciating pressure on my shoulders lessened and I slumped forward. Through the haze around my mind, I realised someone had undone the handcuffs keeping my hands behind my back. Strong arms caught me as I sagged out of the chair, catching me before I hit the ground. "She's in worse shape than I thought. We need to leave." The voice said again, obviously speaking to someone else this time.
"There are more guards on the way." A different voice answered.
There was something strange about those voices that went beyond coming from different men. I frowned in concentration for a moment before I worked it out. The accent. That was what was so different about the voices. One had an English accent, while the other seemed to be Irish. Then I frowned again. Who did I know that was English?
The English voice swore. "Sydney, can you stand up?"
"How do you know who I am?" I asked the voice, still stubbornly refusing to open my eyes to the painful light.
The voice refused to answer, instead carefully helping me to my feet. Instantly, pain seared through my legs and I gasped. Everything rebelled against the pain and I had to jerk quickly to the side before I threw up. There was a sigh from whoever was holding me up. "Well, that answers that question. I'll have to carry her."
The other voice didn't reply, but in that moment I was swept upwards and nestled against a firm chest so fast that I felt dizzy. Groaning, I buried my face against the chest and tried to calm the nausea in my stomach and the intense pain in my shoulders that seemed to be spreading throughout my body. Nothing else seemed to matter at that moment. Part of my brain was screaming at me to recognise who was carrying me off, because it could end badly, but some other part of me instinctively trusted whoever it was. I'd worry about the rest later.
A few times on my bumpy ride, I felt the arms around me shift, followed by the sounds of gunfire, but my foggy brain couldn't hang onto the thoughts for very long. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and slipped back into unconsciousness with a sigh of relief.
Galway
I surged awake, quite literally shaking with fear. My heart was pounding so loud and fast I was sure it was about to leap right out of my chest. My breathing came in ragged pants and sweat covered my skin. My body still ached and throbbed, but compared to the pain I had endured after Sloane had injected me with that substance, it was nothing.
"Sydney?" came a rough voice from next to me. "Are you alright?"
I turned to see a rather rumpled looking Sark sitting in a chair next to my large bed. He wore worn jeans and a baggy black jumper, but it was undeniably him. Relief surged through me before I could stop it, followed by gratitude as my memories began to return and I finally recognised the voices that had rescued me from Sloane. Sark and Liam. I had to say I was impressed – they had rescued me from Sloane apparently by themselves and few people could manage that feat.
I smiled at him. "I think I owe you a big thank you." I said.
Sark smirked, at once looking more like himself and I noticed a sense of relief replaced the look of concern in his eyes as he realised I was okay. "Of course you do." He said. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
I frowned and shook my head, taking stock of my injuries. My body was still throbbing slightly with the after-effects of intense pain, but the nausea was gone and I only had a slight headache. "Not really." I replied. "Most of it's pretty hazy. How long was I there?"
"About five days before Liam and I could rescue you." Sark answered.
"How long have I been out?"
"Four days." Came Sark's reply. "You were in pretty bad shape."
I shivered and swore under my breath. Yet another thing I owed Sloane for. "He injected me with something." I told Sark, trying to suppress the feeling of panic that came with the memory. "Some green liquid. Said we had something to complete."
This time is was Sark who swore. "Drugs?" he asked. "Or something else?"
"I don't know." I replied. "But my gut tells me it had something to do with Rambaldi."
Sark swore again, this time getting out of his chair to pace in front of my bed. "We're going to have to hurry things up." He said. "Go after the map sooner."
"The map?" I echoed.
Sark gave me a faint smile, before turning to face me. "I forgot that I never got a chance to tell you." He said. "The Watchglass is the way to read a map that had a particular importance to Rambaldi."
I nodded at the information. "Any ideas where the map leads?"
Sark shook his head. "No one does. There have been many theories, but no one knows for sure."
I sighed. "Sloane's going to know we're going after it." I pointed out. "If he hasn't got it already, we're going to have a hell of a fight on our hands."
Smirking, Sark looked at me. "He doesn't know where it is." He said. "The Watchglass is supposed to provide the exact coordinates."
"So he has no idea where the map is?" I asked, hope blossoming in my chest.
Sark shook his head slightly. "He knows it's somewhere in the Gobi Desert." He explained. "Just not exactly where."
"Well, it could be worse." I reflected.
Sark smiled, amused. Then he blinked, as if remembering something, and walked to one of the tables near the door and picked up a thick brown envelope. "Oh, this came for you the other day." He said, passing it to me.
His curiosity was apparent, as he recognised my handwriting on the front. I hid a smile, grateful that Sark had respected my privacy enough not to open it and tore the envelope open. Isabella's diary slid out.
Sark watched the old, leather-bound book as I absently stroked it, making sure it was okay. "What is it?" he asked, coming to sit down on the edge of the bed.
"Isabella Rambaldi's diary." I told him.
"Isabella Rambaldi's diary?" he echoed. "How did you get that?"
I glanced at him, before passing him the diary so he could look at it. "I had a visit from a man named Gianni Bennetti and he gave it to me."
"Gianni Bennetti?" Sark said with a sharp look at me, pausing as he flipped through the diary.
I nodded mutely. Sark swore softly, but I think it was more because a whole lot of things were falling into place rather than out of anger. "Gianni Bennetti is the direct descendant of Milo Rambaldi and up until now has seemed quite content to watch the power struggles between the various followers of Rambaldi and not in gaining power for himself. Although, now I wonder…"
"…if he wasn't just waiting for the right moment to destroy Rambaldi's endgame?" I finished for him – Sark had confirmed most of what my father had told me, and I had been wondering the same thing myself.
Sark nodded. "Or give someone who could destroy Rambaldi the help they needed."
He hadn't needed to say that someone was me, although I was beginning to realise that Sark was going to play just as large a role in destroying Rambaldi and his prophecy as I was.
"I'll let you get some sleep." Sark said, the thoughtful look still in his eyes.
I smiled at him. "Thanks." Then a thought struck me as I watched Sark walk to the door. "Sark? Did you ever find out who the head of the Covenant was?"
Sark looked back and the expression in his blue eyes told me I probably wasn't going to like the answer. "Arvin Sloane and Elena Derevko." He said softly.
My aunt? Arvin Sloane had come as no surprise, as I already knew in my gut he was responsible for my missing two years, but my aunt? I had never really known either of them, but I had hoped somewhere deep inside that they hadn't gotten involved in this world like my mother had. "Not Irina?" I asked.
Sark shook his head. "No. Irina has her own organisation of sorts. And she doesn't like to share power."
No, I never imagined she would. I was still deep in thought when Sark shut the door behind him with a soft click.
I woke up again around midnight, feeling a whole lot better – and with it came a restless energy to do something, so I knew there was no going back to sleep. Instead, I reached for Isabella's diary, wondering with there were any clues in there about the Watchglass or the map, like there had been about the prophecy.
I was still reading at dawn, completely captivated by what Isabella was feeling.
June 20th 1427,
Cruel shadows have begun to stalk me and darkness is falling across my life. Renato and his twisted friends have claimed possession of me, even though our marriage is yet months away. My father is holding out for something before completing the promise to him and once again I am just a pawn to be exploited and used.
The one flicker of light in my life is Edward. Ever since that night when he helped care for me after one of my father's beatings, we have met in secret and just talked or watched the stars together. With him I can almost feel normal. He has also become my secret defiance against my father, the one thing in my life that I want, not him. Beatings come often now and my father has descended deeper into madness. I hear rumours that there are many who are plotting to kill him, but I don't know if it is even possible to kill such evil. I hope it is, for then I could be free.
Isabella O
June 27th 1427,
I have a dark secret to confess, particularly to you, the woman who shares my face. I have fallen in love with Edward. He shows such a cold face to the world, but I have long since realised that it is but a mask built for survival against shadows like my own. My heart beats faster every time he comes close to me, and I feel so beautiful and protected in his arms. My advice to you, woman who shares my face, seek out the man who shares his and trust him. He may seem cold and cruel on the surface, but I guarantee that the man underneath is well worth it.
I think my father's cruelty towards me is even harder on him than on me. I know he wishes to kill him so they we may both be free, but my father still has powerful friends in this city and we would pay terribly for this. He is so tender and gentle with me, caring for me after every beating and bringing me chocolates to ease the pain. Without him, I believe I would have given up long ago, but somehow he gives me the will to keep fighting. For him, I would do anything and I know he would do the same for me.
Isabella O
July 12th 1427,
Today is my birthday and I cannot tell you how wonderful it was. Edward managed to sneak me out my father's house and we fled far into the countryside. It felt like magic. We had a picnic, filled with rich and delightful foods and Edward even cooked me some of the dishes he remembered from his childhood. We lazed in the sun for hours and talked and I think it was the most beautiful day of my entire life.
Edward gave me the most wonderful present. He wanted to cover me in diamonds, he said, but what he gave me was infinitely more precious to me – his love. Today, Edward told me that he loves me. I feel as if I could do anything I wanted…even fly! I know such a magical feeling cannot last, but I intend to treasure it for as long as I can. He told me that no one can ever take away his love for me, not even my father. And that is something that will give me strength in this life, no matter what my shadows will do.
Edward, I love you with all my heart. Forever and always.
Isabella O
This time, the memory came to me without the pretence of sleep. I wasn't sure if it had something to do with whatever Sloane had injected me with or just my stronger connection to Isabella, but one minute I was sitting in bed reading Isabella's diary and the next, I was reliving one of her memories.
Dawn coloured the sky with fire, and I couldn't help but smile dreamily as the first rays of the sun warmed my skin. Edward and I had returned only a few hours ago from the best day of my life. My father was on one of his drinking binges and hadn't even noticed we had gone, thankfully. Not that I would have cared if he had – nothing could dim my joy of that day.
My skin was covered in tingles and I felt as if I could almost fly off into the sky at any moment. I had yet to sleep, too scared that this might just be a dream.
"Good morning, beautiful." A familiar voice said, sending delightful shivers down my spine.
I turned and smiled wider as I saw Edward standing behind me on the balcony. He walked closer, his hand moving up to brush a strand of hair off my face. I wore nothing but my thin robe and nightdress, my hair loose and tumbling down my back, but as he gazed at me, I felt as if I was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in all the world.
"Good morning." I replied back.
"I cannot sleep." Edward confessed softly, dipping his head so his forehead rested against mine and his eyes flickered closed. "I am scared that I will find that this is just a dream and I think my heart will break if it is."
My heart skipped a beat at his soft words, then swelled with love. "I am scared of the same." I told him, just as softly. "I love you so much, Edward."
"And I love you too, Isabella." Edward confessed.
I smiled, a little tearfully, at that. No one had ever loved me in my life, with the exception of my mother. She had died in childbirth and I had never known her. I turned so that I could once again watch the sunrise and felt Edward's arms come up and cradle me against his strong chest. We stayed that way for a long moment, content to just be near each other.
"I have something for you." Edward said suddenly. "It isn't much, but…"
As he trailed off, I turned, curious as to what it was. Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple pendant, the lone diamond catching the sun's rays and sparkling like fire. Tears gathered in my eyes. "It is beautiful." I said.
"I wish it could be bigger." Edward said, almost apologetically. "You deserve to be showered in diamonds, Isabella."
"It does not need to be bigger, Edward. It is from you and just for that, I will treasure it for eternity."
With exquisite care, Edward reached up and gently lifted my hair away from my neck to he could fasten the pendant around my neck. I gazed in awe as the diamond settled on my chest, not quite believing it was real. "Oh, thank you Edward!" I cried, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tight.
His arms came up to hug me back, squashing me against his strong chest and I leant my head on his shoulder, love glowing in my heart. Edward gently stroked my hair, running his hands lovingly through it. "I would do anything you ask, Isabella." He whispered. "I want you to know that. Just say the word and we can run away, far away."
I looked up, so much love bursting from my heart. "Oh, Edward." I said.
He smiled softly, before leaning down and touching his lips to mine. Tingles set fire to my skin, as his hands drifted from my arms to cup my face and then to tangle in my hair, dragging me closer to him. Edward was like a drug; once his lips touched mine, I couldn't get enough.
Dragging me closer against him, Edward became more insistent, his tongue moving to tangle with mine. It was like he was drinking me in, but couldn't get enough. My blood heated and suddenly my corset seemed far too tight.
Suddenly, Edward pulled back. He looked a little ashamed, his eyes still a stormy, deep blue. "I'm sorry, Isabella." He said.
I smiled, my body still thrumming from his touch and my mind hazy with pleasure. "Don't be." I said, reaching out and taking his hand.
Bringing it up, I placed his hand over my heart, feeling the skin beneath his fingers heat immediately at his touch. "Edward, you are my heart and I love you." I told him as I gazed into those beautiful eyes that I loved so much. "Forever and always. Never be sorry about that."
"I'm not sorry I love you Isabella." Edward replied. "But I do not wish to harm you."
"You won't." I replied.
With a shy smile, I tugged at his hand and led him slowly inside. "Belle…" he began softly, but I silenced him with a gentle finger against his lips and shook my head.
I knew what I wanted and tonight it was Edward. I had never loved a man like I loved him and never would. "This is what I want." I told him.
Suddenly, I was back in his arms and he was kissing me with addicting passion, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they went. I kissed him back with just as much wild abandon, loving everything he made me feel. Clothing disappeared and then I finally knew what heaven felt like.
I sighed as the memory ended, tears in my eyes. My body still tingled from the memory of the kiss and I felt such a surge of longing to feel his hands on me for one more moment…
Shaking my head, I tried to reorientate myself back in my bedroom at Sark's house. I glanced at the clock and saw it was about 7am now, so I got up and decided to try walking downstairs to see what was for breakfast. I noticed as I climbed out of bed, that I was wearing black silk pyjamas and felt a small pang of embarrassment at having been undressed by Sark. A quick check, however, proved that I still wore the same underwear, so he wouldn't have seen much more than he already had at one point or another.
Still weak, it took me longer than I liked to get downstairs. I paused at the doorway to the dining room, trying to gain a little strength and composure before I walked in, before I heard the low voices conversing inside.
"You don't look good, Julian." Liam's lilting voice was saying.
"I'm fine, Liam." Sark replied.
"You're as pale as a sheet." Liam countered. "You didn't tear your stiches, did you?"
"No, I didn't tear my stiches." Sark sounded grumpy.
I frowned in concern. It sounded like Sark had been injured rescuing me. I hoped he hadn't been shot. There was the sound of someone moving around the dining room and the clink of a mug hitting the table. "How's Sydney?" Liam asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
"I'm not sure." Sark answered. "She seemed better yesterday. I'll take her some breakfast in a minute; see if she feels like eating something."
"No need." I said, carefully walking into the dining room.
Both men got to their feet, but I waved them back down, determined to do this myself. Surreptitiously, I kept an eye on Sark, trying to see if he really was pale, or in pain. The smells of the food and coffee soon made my stomach rumble hungrily and I wondered how long it had been since I last ate.
Hungrily, I filled my plate with fruit and muffins while Sark chuckled with amusement. He got up to help me sit down, as I was still a little shaky. He even poured me a mug of coffee without me having to ask. I grinned up at him. "Thank you."
"I'm just glad to see you're feeling better." Sark said.
"Aye." Liam agreed. "Me too."
"Well, I'm glad to be feeling better too." I said, in between mouthfuls.
The rest of the meal past in relative silence, each of us focusing on our food, although I still kept an eye on Sark. It was unbelievable just how hungry I was, and it took two more plates before I felt full enough to stop eating. Liam was looking at me with a half-amused, half-puzzled look on his face. "Where do you put it all?" he asked. "Surely, your stomach ain't that big!"
I shrugged, grinning back. "Oh, I don't know." I said. "It probably is."
Liam got up then to clear away the dishes and I moved to help, but he shook his head. "It's my turn." He said.
"Your turn?" I echoed, a little surprised that international spies still had chore rosters.
Sark smiled. "Yes, Sydney. We take turns clearing up and washing the dishes."
I shook my head, not sure whether I should believe them or not. "Thankfully, my Ma does the cooking though." Liam said, feigning a shudder. "Neither of us can cook to save our lives."
"Speak for yourself." Sark muttered. "I can!"
"Only after about two months of lessons." Liam stage whispered to me as he walked past.
I smiled at the good-natured teasing between the two men, my gaze drifting back to Sark. Like yesterday, he wore faded jeans and a baggy jumper, looking far less sophisticated than he usually did in the field. I realised this was what Sark looked like at home – and how he acted with his friends. Something warm uncurled in my stomach with the knowledge that I was now considered trustworthy enough to see more of the man underneath the mask than the rest of the world got to. Isabella's words came back into my mind: My advice to you, woman who shares my face, seek out the man who shares his and trust him. He may seem cold and cruel on the surface, but I guarantee that the man underneath is well worth it.
I could definitely see her meaning now, and I wondered why I had never seen it before. I know Sark had not intentionally shown it to me, but I should have considered that there was a lot more to him than met the eye. From my dealings with Sloane, I should have known that you can't just classify someone as a 'bad guy' and leave it at that – there's always more to it.
"I was hoping that you would be feeling better in a day or two so we could find Rambaldi's map." Sark said, breaking the silence that had fallen after Liam had left, carrying a large pile of dishes. "While Sloane may not know exactly where it is, I'd like to retrieve it as soon as possible."
I nodded, understanding the feeling. "Sure." I said. "Will you?"
As I knew both from Liam's comments and from watching him over breakfast, Sark was a little paler than usual and he favoured his left arm a little more than usual. His sharp gaze fastened on mine. "Why wouldn't I be feeling fine?" he asked, probably a little sharper than he intended.
"You're favouring your left arm." I said, leaving out the fact I had heard Liam's comment.
Sark smirk, although his expression held admiration. "You never do miss much, do you Sydney?" he asked, not really expecting or needing an answer. "And it's fine. Nothing more than a scratch."
I shrugged. If he didn't want to tell me about his injury, I wasn't going to push it. Sark wouldn't go into the field if he didn't think he could handle it, especially not with the Covenant now after us, as well as the CIA and probably Irina. I suspected that Dad would have at least contacted her to try and find me, and she'd probably be keeping tabs on Sark as well.
"Is Liam coming with us?" I asked.
Sark shook his head. "No. I don't want the Covenant or the CIA to know about his involvement with me if I can help it, and they'll be focused on my next movement enough as it is." He glanced at me, thoughtful. "The CIA probably know about your and my involvement. Particularly if they've been keeping a close eye on the Covenant."
I nodded, having come to the same conclusion myself. "We weren't going to be able to keep it from them forever." I said. "Nor would I want to. I'm not hiding what I'm doing, Sark. I'm sick of hiding. I want them to know."
Sark gazed at me, his expression strange. I couldn't read the emotions because Sark was keeping whatever they were in check, but I had a feeling that somehow I had just passed a test. Before I could question him, however, Liam stuck his head around the door. "Julian, Ma wants to see you in the kitchen."
"If you'll excuse me." He said, and I nodded, still a little bemused that Sark, international spy and assassin, would have someone named 'Ma' in their kitchen at all.
I spent the next two days sleeping and training, trying to get ready for the mission to retrieve Rambaldi's map. I slowly got to know more about Liam and strangely the pair of us became good friends over that short time. He had met Sark as a child and when his father had been killed by one of the followers of Rambaldi, Sark had taken in him and his mother. Apparently, Liam's father had been a follower too, and had known Irina. Like Sark, Liam didn't like Rambaldi or how people would commit atrocities in his name and jumped at the chance to actively fight against them.
I had wondered how the CIA or anyone else had never heard of Liam and mentioned the same to him. He told me it was because he always worked from behind the scenes while Sark kept everyone focused on him. It worked well, because if no one knew who you were then you could do a lot more before you got caught. It was a principle I had used on many occasions.
On the second day, I found Sark sitting in the library. We hadn't really talked to each other, except for meals, since I had woken up and I was wondering why. I got the feeling he was trying to avoid me, and I wasn't sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the last dream I had had, because I knew he had the same dreams I did.
"Morning, Sark." I said, seeing him sitting on one of the chairs by the empty fireplace. "What are you reading?"
I came to sit in the opposite chair to his, a friendly smile on my face. Sark looked up and over at me, his book still in his hand, and raised an eyebrow at my perky tone. He could see right through it, so I shrugged. "I was trying to be friendly." I said, somewhat defensively.
Sark smirked and shook his head. "There was a time when you wouldn't hesitate to try and kick my head in." he said.
I shrugged. "We can try that if you think it'd help." I said.
"Help?" he echoed, a suspicious look on his face. "Why would you think that would help?"
Since friendliness hadn't worked, I decided just to be blunt. "You're avoiding me." I said.
Sark blinked and his smirk slipped for a second. Then it was back. "Maybe I am." He answered honestly.
"Why?" I asked. "Did I do something?"
He shook his head. "This isn't about anything you've done." He replied.
"Is it about something I haven't done?" I asked, wanting to find out the reason.
Sark sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "No." he answered.
"So what then?" I demanded.
"You don't want to know." He said.
"I think I do." I got up to stand over him when he didn't reply. I glared at him when he finally looked up, hands on my hips. "Answer me Sark. What's going on?"
Sark surged to his feet, something dark glittering in his eyes. "Right now?" he growled out. "The problem is I want to kiss you."
That surprised me. He must have seen it in my expression, because he spun and stalked away, intending to leave the library. He stopped, dead in his tracks however, when I opened my mouth. I think a demon ran away with my tongue, because I couldn't believe I'd just uttered those words. "Then kiss me."
"What?" Sark snapped darkly, spinning around to face me. "Are you crazy?"
"Probably." I shrugged. "But I think I like being crazy."
"Sydney, I am a bad man!" he growled, taking a step closer to me. His eyes glittered darkly with anger…and heat. "I've been responsible for the torture and murder of your friends! You should want to shoot me!"
I winced when he voice some of the things that I had been trying to forget. Images of Will in Taiwan, looking beaten and bruised…images of Francie smiling…fighting with Alison…
Looking Sark dead in the eye, I let my own anger and pain show. "I know what you did. And I can't tell you that I don't want to know why, because I do. But I'm beginning to know you, Sark. Maybe that's supposed to count for something!"
"So, what? I'm so loveable that you're willing to forget the people I've tortured and killed?" Sark snapped.
"Stop being a fucking asshole!" I raged.
Sark blinked as I swore at him, his angry response dying on his lips. "Now explain to me why you did those things." I continued, my tone still angry but controlled. "Then I'll decided whether I should shoot you or not."
Rage glittered in Sark's blue eyes, turning them icy, but I was unconcerned. I was angry enough that part of me just wanted to provoke him further, but I ruthlessly controlled it. I truly wanted to hear his explanation. "I thought Will Tippin was working for an enemy of Irina's. She wanted me to find out who and how much he knew." Sark said, suddenly seeming exhausted.
He walked back over to his chair and sat down heavily, but I remained standing. "I truly believed he was an agent at the time." He refused to look at me. "As for Francie, I might not have been involved in planning it, but Sloane made me Alison's contact. I was responsible for keeping her in place."
I saw in that moment, a little of just how much Sark's life had been manipulated and controlled by the people he worked for. I saw the thread of loyalty in his expression when he talked of Irina, as I saw the signs of betrayal. I heard the hard tone of voice when he said Sloane and realised more of his life had been about survival then any of us had ever guessed. I understood he wasn't innocent, but then I always had. But unlike evil monsters such as Sloane, he was mainly guilty of survival. And that I could forgive. God knew, I had done enough evil deeds in the name of survival to understand.
"I've known that for a long time." I said.
"What?" Sark finally looked up at me.
"I said that I knew you were acting under Irina's orders when you tortured Will, just as I suspected you were Alison's contact. I knew when I contacted you to work together. So don't delude yourself into thinking those facts are suddenly going to drive me away like you want."
Sark sent me an irritated glare. I think in that moment, he hated just how well I knew him. It was only fair; he's done the same to me. "Now that this is all out the way, will you stop avoiding me?"
"I'll always carry those black marks on my soul." Sark whispered, before answering in a louder voice. "Maybe."
"You're not the only one with black marks on your soul, you know." I told him.
Sark smirked at me, but I don't think his heart was in it. "That wasn't the reason I was going to keep avoiding you."
"Ah." I said. "The whole kiss thing."
"You needn't say it so casually, you know." Sark grumped.
The same demon as before seemed to rise up again and take control of my tongue. I never ceased to amaze me how quickly moods between Sark and me could change. But suddenly we had gone from anger and pain and sadness, to playful flirting and, if I wanted to be completely honest about it, lust. "Feeling intimidated?" I asked wickedly.
"I'm never imitated by you, Sydney." He smirked back.
Sauntering over, I leant down and put my hands on each arm of his chair, leaning in close to his face. "So this doesn't intimidate you?" I asked.
Sark's eyes darkened almost immediately and I knew I was playing with fire; I just didn't care. In fact, I like it. "No." he answered.
I leaned closer. "Are you sure?" I asked.
Seeing his glance slip to my lips, I knew he was going to kiss me about a heartbeat before he did. His hand fisted in my shirt, yanking me towards him in the same moment his lips crashed onto mine. The kiss was passionate and brutal, fuelled by anger and lust. His tongue invaded my mouth, taking as it went. His taste was addicting; dark and mysterious like the man himself. My hands fisted on his jumper as his tangled in my hair, dragging me closer to him. Our tongues battled for supremacy, fighting like we always had in life.
We broke apart, chests heaving, at the sound of a knock on the library door. Turning from where I was now sprawled across Sark's lap, I saw Liam leaning against the door, a large grin on his face. "Pilot is on his way." He said. "You'd better get a move on."
I felt the blush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks at his words and I scrambled out of Sark's lap. Liam left with a soft chuckle. Refusing to look Sark in the eye, I tried to gather my wits. Man, that had been one mind-blowing kiss!
Sark…"I began, but he cut me off.
"Julian." He corrected. "My name is Julian."
I looked up and caught the expression in his eyes. There was heat and want mixed up with a hint of wonder and a steely resolve. I shivered at the possession of it, but it wasn't a shiver of fear. Sark had decided what he wanted and that was me. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Not that I wanted anything to be in the way, mind you.
I felt my lips curve into a wicked smile. "Julian." I savoured the word. "Shall we?" I indicated the door.
Sark smirked back. "We shall." He replied.
To Be Continued…