“Down here,” he said, flashing that tantalizing smile I adored so much.
Yeah right, you’re not supposed to fall for him.
Sitting at the small, mosaic table, I stared at the picturesque ocean in front of me. It was so different in comparison to the fluvial waters back home. I made out two children on the shore a couple hundred yards away. They appeared to be collecting rocks. In the far distance, were a group of boats that I assumed was a marina. From this vantage point, the boats looked more like toys rather than vessels capable of skimming gracefully across the choppy surface of the ocean.
Looking around at the trees, I noticed a lot more color on the leaves than there were at home, as though fall stopped here first. There was nothing more beautiful than New England in the fall. Before we moved away, my family would drive the Mohawk Trail from Northfield to Vermont every fall. Making a day of it, we would stop along the way for some apple picking. My mom would always purchase a giant bottle of maple syrup, telling us it was the best thing ever created.
Playing with my food, I considered how to bring up my theory on design. Brent watched me prudently.
“Something wrong?’ he asked, breaking my concentration.
“Who is it, Brent?” I asked him snippily, glaring at him in a way that said I was serious.
He knew what I was talking about, and didn’t attempt to lie, or act like he was confused.
“Reese,” was his only reply.
My heart sputtered. Of course, that was why Reese confronted Logan in the lunchroom. He saw Logan staring at me and decided to mark his territory, laying his claim to me. Stalking with feral intent to Logan’s table, like a buck in the woods vying for the rights to what he thought was his female, attempting to establish dominance. It made me sick thinking that Reese thought he had any rights to me just because some obvious urban legend said he did. And people thought I was the freak.
“That’s not happening. I’m not in love with Reese and I am not going to be in love with him either,” I stated steadfastly. My brain recalled the scientific description of how human attraction occurred and I was sure Reese was carbon and Brent was iron, no matter how things were designed.
“It’s not like that. It’s your seal. You don’t have a choice,” he said adamantly, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to be told you didn’t have a say so in your own love life.
“Th
e hell I don’t!” I shouted, slamming my palm into the table, causing the plates to clank loudly on the uneven tiles. “Seal or no seal, whatever the hell that means, I decide, Brent!”
“You’re wrong, Claire. It’s already been decided. Reese is your seal’s match by design and things are designed with purpose, for a reason. The seal is too strong for you to fight.”
“So, what are you saying? Is this like the whole imprinting thing? We’ll touch and suddenly I’ll be head over heels for him, thinking about nothing else. A fairytale? A happy ending? What a bunch of bull,” I scorned, speaking with my hands and trying to sound harsh.
“Imprinting, Claire? Wow, you really do read a lot. Imprints only happen in paranormal romance novels. In the real world, Reese is your Paramour,” he explained and I cringed, thinking of the dictionary definition of the word.
Paramour [par-uh-moor] Part of Speech: Noun Definition: Lover
“You have got to be kidding? This is completely absurd,” I scoffed. I never even had a boyfriend and now I was supposed to be some “kept woman” with a boy I hardly knew and didn’t really care for. Gross!
Brent threw his head back, laughing his amusement. “If you’d allow me to continue, this will make so much more sense.”
I nodded, shooting him a wary look. Paramour, shmaramour!
“All human beings are sealed and there is only one other person whose seal is stamped to be an exact match of your own. Seals are stamped to fit together as Paramours, creating the only soul truly compatible with your own. Most of the time seals find each other and come together, forming a bond, naturally. In your case, they had to seek out your Paramour so no time would be wasted. Without your exact match, you can’t gain your full abilities. You’re so much stronger with him, Claire.”
Thinking he was crazy, I sighed, but I was curious, so I asked, “Like how?”
“Like those,” he said, gesturing to the dark handprints on my neck. He slid his chair closer to mine, his expression unreadable.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. As your Paramour, Reese has abilities too. He’ll make those disappear and any pain or bruising that goes with them.” His fingers brushed my skin unintentionally and like a raging thunderstorm, heat rose between us, pushing the coldness away – the embers of desire he tried to ignore – set fire to my body. He felt it too. He locked his gaze with mine, his jaw tightened, and conflict warped his face.
“Yes, but can he do that?” I asked, dousing the flame with my question, though I still felt the burn beneath my skin.
“You are so stubborn. You don’t understand, Claire. Your seals are drawn to each other with a force you can’t resist,” Brent urged. My mind wandered back to my magnet analogy – annoying me – while Brent continued. “You can’t fight it. Look, Reese will be here tomorrow. He’s relocating your aunt so that she’s safe. You’ll feel differently then. I promise you.”
Continuing an argument I was sure to lose, I asked, “So, you’re saying no one ever lives a happy life with someone that is not stamped exactly the same?”
“Sometimes people don’t find their match, and yes, they still find love and make do with someone else. But deep inside, they’re always missing a piece of themselves, just as you would be if you don’t accept Reese as yours. Only for you, Claire, it’s very dangerous.” I watched his face twist with concern when he said the word dangerous.