Heather: So Much for Studying.

Before you call me a total procrastinator (like I already am) just know that Civics may very well be the dullest class in the history, of, well, ever. My exam for it is on Monday, and I made it halfway through my review before I gave up... Haha, anyway, I got a little distracted.

You see, last night when I was finishing my History review (or trying to, as the case was) I got an idea. So, of course, I had to write it down.

And then tonight, I was studying when I decided to take a break for five minutes, and started to write... It totally took a mind of its own, and was so not planned, but it fits perfectly with my idea, and I'm kind of excited.

Also, it's not about vampires, werewolves, soul suckers, aliens, goblins, elves, angels, demons, nephilim, none of that type of stuff. Actually, it's probably about something that you haven't heard of before- or at least I hadn't.... Hahah. :)

So, I was thinking that I was to get your opinions on it, and advice and everything, or even if you want to tell me to go back to studying because it's crap...

And I'm also not sure if it's going to be a prologue, or the start of chapter one...

But anyways this is what I just wrote:

*

              I stare straight into his deep, dark eyes, wanting nothing more than to run my fingers through his hair and pull his face closer to mine. He smiles, and I feel my veins light on fire. All I want is for us to come together in a passionate kiss before declaring our wild love for each other, and running off into the sunset together.

          But if I know anything, then I know it’s impossible. I can’t keep running from them, I can’t let him hide me from them again; I can’t let him get hurt this time. Darcy leans his head toward mine, and my heart splutters in my chest.

          It takes all I have to keep from throwing myself at him right then and there; to escape into our little world for just a few moments longer, but I can’t. Instead, my hands find his face, holding him in place as my fingers study every inch of it.

         Of every moment we have ever spent together in any of my lives, this one is certainly my favourite. He doesn’t move, allowing me to explore the face I am sure to never forget, just as I never have before. My fingers linger on his lips, itching to pull him close and slam them down on my own. They drop down to the collar of his tunic and find the thick scar that extends from the top of his collarbone to just above his hip.

          Darcy grabs my hand in his own, and frowns down at me.  “Do you remember how I got this scar?” His words are quiet, but heavy with emotion.

          “Yes,” I tell him, “I remember everything.”

          And it’s true. Flashes of moments of passion, despair, and violent battles run through my mind constantly. The scar is my fault, I know. It is something I can never forgive myself. I want to hold him closer than I ever have, but I can’t bring myself to move; not yet.

          My skirts rustle as he pulls me into his arms, and Darcy throws back his head and laughs at my shocked expression. I can’t stop my own grin from forming across my lips at the sound of his laughter. My hands wrap around his neck, as he leans down to look at me.

          It seems neither of us can hold off, as our lips find each other and my heart thrums along to the beat of his. Darcy sets me down on the ground without breaking the kiss and grabs my hips; pulling me closer to him. My fingers curl in his thick, soft hair in a vain attempt to pull him even closer.

         “Ahem.” The amused voice doesn’t register in my mind as I wrap my arms tighter around his neck, but Darcy pulls back, uncharacteristically startled by the stranger’s presence.

         I unravel my arms and turn to get a look at the man who interrupted us. He has coal black eyes and vibrant blonde hair, but despite the tone of his voice, his expression is far from amused. His stance is confidant, and his smirk makes him appear as though he has had some unsung victory.

         Darcy steps forward, placing himself between me and the stranger. He drops into a defensive stance, and all I can see is the tightening of the muscles in his back as he snarls at the man in front of him. “What are you doing here, Chas?” His voice is harsher than I have ever heard it, and I can feel myself flinch back at the sound.

         Chas chuckles darkly, and the sound makes my skin crawl. “I just wanted to come see your pretty little prize. Is that so wrong?” It’s almost as though I can feel his eyes on me, despite Darcy’s thick form blocking the way. The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

         Darcy ignores his question, “You’ve seen her. Why are you still here?”

         “She’s quite the fiery little prize, isn’t she?” I can hear his footsteps as he tries to step around Darcy to get a better look at me, but Darcy will have none of it. He shifts around where he stands, but as it is, I can still just barely see Chas’s beguiling face from his new position.

          He smiles at me, a terrifying look in his black eyes. I want to scream, to run away; but I force myself to stay where I am and face him with dignity. I will not run now.

         My hands twitch nervously as he takes in my modest night gown- I should have known to change when I chased after Darcy, but I was too hurried. My breath catches in my throat as he takes a step forward, prompting Darcy to take one as well.

         My eyes are flickering back and forth between them, and I feel as though I’m drowning. There’s something going on- something more than I can even begin to imagine. With all of my memories, not a single one can place his face; his name.

        But his eyes strike fear into my very core, and I know, with all of my being, that we have met before. “Come on, Darcy.” His eyes flicker furiously at me, “We used to be friends- you remember that. And friends share, don’t they?”

       Uncontrollable panic pumps through my body at his words, and I glance back at Darcy, longing for a reassuring hand. He makes no move and I step backwards, tripping over my own feet in my haste.

       “You were not my friend.” Darcy’s voice is barely loud enough to reach my ears, but even I can hear the dangerous undertones. His hand hangs above the dagger I know is hidden at his waist, and I know him well enough to know he is scrutinizing Chas’s every move.

       Chas turns his gaze to Darcy before flickering back to me, his expression smoldering. His legs tense, and I know what is about to happen before it does. “Darcy!” My scream comes too late though, as Chas launches across the distance between us.

        I barely have time to move before he’s in front of me, his hands grabbing onto my wrists in a violently tight hold that makes me cry out in pain. He shoves me against his chest, and pulls out the dagger hidden at his waist. He holds it to my neck, taunting me with its proximity. “You know,” he purrs quietly into my ear, “You really are the beautiful little prize.”

          I fight against him, my brain warped by terror. The knife pushes harder against my neck, threatening to break the skin. “Ah, ah, ah, struggle and Darcy won’t have much else left to live for.” I can hear the threat in his words, and as much as I hate to give in, my thrashing stops immediately and I can’t help but gaze up at the man I love. If I am going to die, I would rather die looking at him than the face of my killer.

          Conflict is written deep in Darcy’s eyes as he watches my despair. He lurches forward, but Chas has pulled me farther away, and he is not fast enough to stop the knife from biting into my skin. “Move any closer and she dies.”

          Darcy stops instantly, and I can see the pain in his eyes. There’s a gaping cut in his neck, in the exact same place the blood streams down from my own. But he is not bleeding; the wound shows his flesh, nearly as deep as his bones, yet still no blood escapes.

         I can feel my own eyes widen in horror as he stares dismally back at me. “So you’ve already bonded?” My cheeks flush at the implications in Chas’s words and I try to shake my head.

        “N-” The word dies in my throat though, as I remember before this life. My breath falls short, and my eyes search Darcy’s, betrayal written on my face. My body sags back against Chas, and I feel the brief sensation of the knife gouging deeper into my neck as I fall into a fit of unconsciousness.

Tell me what you think/advice? :)

-H