by Kira Hillins
Anna fell into his arms. He stumbled back against the door from the force.
She parted her mouth over his and kissed him long, passionately. “I want to be with you now.” She breathed against his lips.
“Anna.” He cupped her face then leaned her back. “You are still healing, physically and emotionally.” He swiped a lock of hair from her watering eyes. “I promise when you are better…”
She scoffed as she pulled away from him. Now that they were home things would be difficult. They had so much to work through, and she had no idea where to begin. A good start would’ve been in his arms, but it was obvious he wanted nothing to do with her.
Tears welled in her eyes. Not wanting him to see her cry, she took off down the hall. “I’m so stupid.”
“Anna.” He grabbed her hand and spun her around to face him. “Stop this now.”
It was like his calling card, the dark aura that surrounded him. It never went away unless she touched him. This time her touch did nothing. The paleness of his skin, piercing black eyes, he had all the attributes they had.
“No matter how alike you think we are, you and I will always be on separate levels. You will always be my maker, and I will always be your burden. And now without a child to link us together, we will always be apart.”
“Nonsense.” His deep tone sent the hairs on the back of her neck into a dance. “It is time I share something with you. I would have shown you sooner, but I am still learning the ways of a maker.”
He was so beautiful when he grinned. He didn't show it often. But when he did, she melted like putty in his hands. This was his lure and she was ever so lost in him.
He dragged his thumbs under her eyes to remove her tears. In a daze, she placed her hand on his shoulder and the other in his. As they danced, the bedroom morphed into a ballroom. Lively people dressed in luxurious clothing danced with them to a classical piece that echoed throughout the room, a timeless tune played with stringed instruments.
Somehow they’d transported to another place and time.
Anna gasped. Tristan no longer carried his dark aura. No longer did he have midnight eyes that ignited her heart when they looked at her. He’d somehow transformed into a living being, completely human.
Blue eyes dazzled against his fair skin. Marvelous color stained his lips. As he waltzed with her in his arms, his lustrous black hair, long, beautiful, gave off an immaculate shine under the candlelit chandelier above them.
“Tristan.” Her voice was muffled in her ears when she spoke. “Where are we?”
“My past.” His voice was as subdued as hers.
“How is this possible?” He twirled her. Her peach dress swept the floor. When he caught her hand once again, he pulled her firmly against him. As they continued their waltz through the room, she laughed in delight. “This feels so real and wonderful.”
“Whatever happens, do not let go of me or we will lose the vision.”
She nodded that she understood.
The music ended. Tristan tucked Anna’s arm under his. He clasped her hand then guided her through the crowd toward a couple near the grand staircase.
Voices became clear. A woman and man flirted in the corner of the room.
“Take me to your bed.” The woman tittered.
The man led her up the stairs away from the party. The woman was beautiful. Her hair curled down her back and matched the red silk dress she wore. She was on Tristan’s arm.
“Wait!” Anna called for them, but they didn’t hear. She glanced up at her Tristan. “Where are they going?”
“To my room.”
He leaned down and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm as they moved against hers. His tongue swept into her mouth. She closed her eyes wanting more than an affectionate kiss.
Desperate to feel him inside her, she slid her arms around his neck. She whimpered, aching for him, wanting him to touch her in places to make her sigh with passion.
He parted from her mouth. “You must concentrate, my love.” He turned her around, away from him, and then clutched her shoulders.
“I’m trying to, but you’re not making it easy.” Breath labored, she opened her eyes to a blur. “I can’t see anything.”
“Give it a moment.”
She stared ahead, trying to focus. Dizziness swept through her. She buckled over then shut her eyes tight. “It’s too hard.”
His slid his arms around her. With his breath on her ear, he steadied her movement. With his warm chest against her back, she breathed easier.
“This is the moment I turned. It will be difficult to watch, but it is what all makers share with the one we have chosen to love.”
Confident she wouldn’t lose her balance, she did what he asked and opened her eyes. The dizziness was gone, but as she focused on the bodies before her she cringed.
“What makes you think I want to see this?” She watched the voluptuous red-head lean on Tristan, naked, moaning. She cried his name as he rose to meet her breasts with his mouth.
As hard as Anna tried, she couldn’t avert her eyes. Her heart ached as she watched them do despicable, frivolous things to each other. The door to the room opened. Madeline stormed into the room. She shrieked as she knocked over the lit candle near the doorway.
Anna covered her ears. She watched in horror as the tapestry on the wall caught fire. It fell to the bed, covering Tristan and the woman with flames. The woman shrieked as she burned. Tristan rose from the bed. Screaming in agony, body blazing, he threw himself from the window.
Tristan’s blackened body lay on the grass. Madeline pressed her arm to his mouth. When he rose to his feet, drinking in her essence, Anna’s stomach churned. She turned away and shut her eyes. “I don’t want to see anymore.”
“Forgive me. It is not a pleasant memory to share, but necessary.” Tristan held her in his arms. Warmth and comfort took over heartache. When she opened her eyes, she stood outside. A beautiful blue sky reined above her. Clouds drifted slowly, pleasantly. The grass was green and warm, soft beneath her bare feet.
“Listen to them.”
An older man stood peering through the entrance to a mausoleum. Madeline’s crypt. Anna shivered as she caught sight of a pair of red eyes staring from the shadows on the other side.
“My dearest.” The man begged. “Forgive me for picking favorites. Though you are not my flesh and blood, you are still my daughter. But, you must understand how different you are.”
“I understand...father.” The woman hissed. “My sister died with my revelation. You kept it from me even when she fell ill. Bother me no more or I shall end your pitiful existence and bury you beside her.”
“Do not shut me out!” He shouted. "I did not want to hurt you."
The man waited for her response, but she had already left. Seeing the conversation had ended, he walked away, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Madeline’s adoptive father?” Anna asked as she peered into the darkness.
“Yes,” Tristan replied.
Dim light shined through the crack in the doorway. Anna took a step towards the mausoleum door. “Do you see the light?”
“Do not go in.”
“I have to." Unable to keep her gaze away or her feet from moving, she stepped toward the door.
“Anna, no.” He held on to her hand. “There is more to show you. We will lose the vision if you let go.”
“I need to see her.” Her voice was a faint whisper as she neared the entrance.
Tristan's hand slid from hers. His voice fell away as she opened the door and peered inside. At first there was a void of color. When she stepped in, red eyes came into focus. An angry presence appeared before her. Madeline. She grabbed Anna’s throat and dug sharp nails into her flesh.
“Help me!” She struggled to break free from Madeline's painful grasp. Her feet left the ground.
A woman with golden hair appeared behind Madeline. She glowed like an angel as she smiled at the child in her arms. When she turned he
r gaze on Anna, the vision blurred. Anna’s body went limp and she fell to the ground. The pressure on her throat eased and the fear of meeting death faded.
Anna opened her eyes. Tristan stood over her with his hand held out.
“I don’t understand why you showed me that part.” She took his hand and he helped her to her feet.
“If the Elders bring us before the council, you will be interrogated.” He shook his head. “I have failed to show you everything.”
“How did you do that?”
“The dark arts,” he said like a confession. He pressed his lips to her wrist. “I mean to share with you everything I have learned.”
“How did you show me the vision of Madeline? Were you there?”
“Yes," he replied. "I stayed with her for a little while. That was the first time I had heard about a cure for our ailment.”
“There was another woman in the crypt. She held a child in her arms. Who was she?”
He arched his brows. “There was no one else in the room.”
“But I saw her. She was beautiful. Like an angel from heaven.”
He traced his fingers across her pale cheek. “It has been a trying week. We should rest.” He kissed her trembling lips. “Let me hold you in my arms tonight.”
She was exhausted, and definitely didn’t want to pass up this chance to be near him. It’d been such a long time since he’d held her in their bed.
She nodded and then went to the dresser along the far wall. She undressed, feeling the emptiness of her womb again, wishing the baby was still there. He was right. Though she felt healed physically, she hadn’t recovered emotionally.
She slipped on her black gown then turned to find him standing before her. In his dark cloth pants, he was ready to welcome her in his arms and lead her to bed.
He was so beautiful, but seemingly too accepting of their tragedy. Not that she blamed him. If she could show him what she went through, his emotions might be as unstable as hers. If only she could make him understand why she cried so much, to make him realize how much she needed more than his arms around her. If only he could feel the emptiness inside her.
She took his hand then slipped beneath the sheets of the bed. Though she pressed her cheek against his chest, she couldn’t close her eyes. Even if it took an eternity to heal her wounds, the scars would always be there.
And as she lay beside her dark destiny, tears flowing again, he held her tight.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristan stood on the bottom step of the basement and scanned the room. It was just as he'd left it all those months ago. Test tubes filled with blood, Anna's blood blackened from time still lined the cabinet on the far wall. Papers lay on the short counter, records of the tests he'd run. They had all failed.
It was a wonder why she didn't resent him. It was his fault she'd stayed dizzy, drawing blood from her when she needed it most. He'd pulled skin from her body without the slightest notion or care that it'd caused her pain. It was her sacrifice for the greater picture. Humanity.
Tristan gritted his teeth, desperate to hold his anger inside. If only she'd told him about the baby, he'd have stopped the tests immediately. He'd have put an end to this ridiculous obsession and concentrated all of his attention on her. Why hadn't she trusted him enough to tell him?
It was true. Her confession would've added to his stress. He'd done well by hiding his emotions from the Elders, from Elric—his own god damn conniving brother. If he’d shown the slightest bit of stress, for indeed it would've eventually become hard to hide Anna’s swelling body, they would’ve investigated their home. The Elders would've found this place and had done god knows what.
Tristan sighed. This lab he'd spent way too much time in was an abomination. Trying to create an antidote for an incurable disease was preposterous. He'd hurt Anna in ways that was unforgivable.
The face of his dead child raced through his mind. He clenched his teeth as he gathered the papers off the counter and crumpled them in his fists. It was time to put an end to this. He shoved the papers in the small trash container on the floor at the end of the counter. Fire burned through his veins as he lifted the microscope. He cried out as he tossed it across the room. It hit the dark stone wall and broke into pieces.
He grabbed hold of the table and turned it over. It crashed loudly. Wooden pieces skittered across the floor. When he turned to the cabinet along the wall, he stopped.
Vials of blood stood inside. His heart sank as he lifted one from the most recent collection. It had almost worked. Anna had fallen to the floor that morning, sick, vomiting. She’d moaned as he carried her to the bathroom where she closed her eyes, sweat beading her forehead.
Tristan leaned his temple against the wall, desperate to control his anger. His chest rose and fell with breath, but he could no longer hold back the rage.
He ripped the cabinet off the wall with ease and threw it across the room. Glass shattered when it hit the stone beside the stairwell. He cringed as he held his face in his hands, trying not to cry out, but he couldn't stand this sorrow anymore. He’d kept it in for far too long. He fell to his knees as tears streamed from his eyes.
"Tristan." Anna's voice was soft in his ears. He looked up to find her treading carefully through the debris a look of despair on her beautiful face. She got down on her knees beside him. “What’s wrong?”
He fell into her arms. "I will never forgive myself for what I have done to you." He cried as she held his head against her chest. "Our child is dead because of me."
"Don’t say that.” She stroked the back of his head. "I'm the one who left."
"I drove you away."
“No you didn’t.” She leaned him back and cupped his face. "As much as I want to mourn forever, I can't—we can't. What's done is done. We have to be strong and move on together." She kissed his lips. "You and I created the impossible. I don’t know. Maybe someday we could try again."
He swept a dark lock behind her ear. "Without you, I am nothing."
“Tristan.” She smiled sweetly. “You’ll never be without me.”
He scooped her up in his arms. He carried her up the stairs and down the hall to their room. She shuddered as he laid her down on the bed. He took off his clothes and then climbed over her.
Her eyes were blue as she gazed up at him. No warmth radiated from her body as he slid her undergarment down her legs until they were off. He dove inside her mouth and kissed her long, passionately, not allowing her to come up for a breath.
He longed for her warm skin, the heat of her human touch. Even as he pushed inside her, and the tears welled in her eyes, and her heartache matched his, she offered nothing but a cold touch. It didn’t matter. For as long as he remained on this earth, vampire or human, his love for her would never cease.
“Will you become my wife?” He slid his nose alongside hers. He brushed his lips over her cheek as he waited for her answer. She said nothing. Her moan and whimper and a tightening of her arms around his neck brought his gaze to hers.
It was the first genuine smile she’d given since they’d made love all those months ago. How he loved to see the glow come back to her pale cheeks. The tears in her eyes made the blue around her pupils prominent.
“Tristan.” She laughed as she cried. “Yes. Oh yes, I will marry you.”
“Then I am the luckiest man in the world.”
As he indulged in her with slow, gentle thrusts, his body warmed. It was slight, but there. He watched in awe as color blended downward through a lock of her midnight hair, creating a single blonde streak around her face. He followed it with his forefinger to the bottom of her jaw then down her shoulder. Beautiful.
It was then he knew. The key to her powers was in her heart. Broken, she hid the magic inside her. Happy, she radiated light like none other.
“Are you happy, Mrs. Ashfield?”
“Yes, my husband.” She rose to meet him in another kiss. “More than I’ve been in a long time. But…”
“But
?” He arched his brows. “There is a condition to your joy?”
“I’d marry you this very second if I could,” she said with a breathy laugh. “It’s just…we’ve shared so many experiences together. You’ve told me many things about your past. But, I don’t even know your birth day. I don’t know what your favorite color is. Or out of all the places you’ve traveled, where was your favorite?”
“Ah.” He grinned and his eyes softened. She’d had him worried. “Well then, my favorite place is here…” He thrust deep into her then groaned. “Making love to you.”
“Mmm…” She clutched his shoulders. “Come on, be serious.”
“I am completely and utterly…mm…serious.” He kissed down her neck to her breast. He sucked in her nipple then lashed it with his tongue.
“Tristan. Please.” She cupped his face and brought him back up to face her. “This is important to me.”
Her scolding eyes stared into his. She looked so fearless begging for answers he had never revealed. It’d been centuries since he’d even thought about his birthday, let alone care about it.
He sighed in defeat. “The last birthday I celebrated, I was four years old. I ran through the flowers that bloomed in the courtyard. A bee stung me on the arm and I had begun to cry.” He gasped as the memory came back crystal clear. “I ran to my mother who always sat on the stone bench watching me play. She caught me in her arms then told me I would be all right. She kissed the wound, and the pain went away.” He knew now that his mother had healed him. How did he not remember such a thing?
Anna tucked his hair behind his ears. “She was an angel.”
“Maybe.” He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about anything else but being with Anna. “July,” he said with a grin. “My birthday is July second.” He kissed her temple. Her cheek. Her lips. “My favorite color is blue, like your eyes. They are magical.” He thrust into her deeper and she moaned. “And I spoke the truth when I said no other place can compare to being in your arms.”
She curled her leg against his hip then turned him over on his back. “It doesn’t matter where we are.” She rolled her hips against his. “As long as we’re together.”
