Blood and Damnation

by Belinda Boring

  Catriona slowly slipped from the wall and stood before me, her hands hanging by her side, fingers loosely gripping her nightgown’s material. She looked so unbelievably small amongst her surroundings, but her request revealed the magnitude of her heart.

  “Love me, Marcus. Even if it’s just for the briefest of seconds. Let me have something to hold on to once this is over.” Tears began to fall again. “I know I mean nothing to you, but please.”

  For some reason, her request came as a shock. I’d expected her to beg for her freedom or to have more control in the waking world—to even be friends. That made more sense to me than a request for love, no matter how temporary and fleeting it was.

  I responded instinctively, pulling her into my arms as I rested my forehead on hers. It was the most intimate position I’d ever been in, regardless of how many times I’d shared my bed with another. It was as though our spirits gently spoke—communicating the emotions I knew I couldn’t even dare to voice.

  “You don’t know what you ask.”

  “Am I so unlovable that you can’t even muster the smallest of sympathy for me? I am lonely, Marcus. I am your wife in word only . . . and even that is viewed scornfully by you. Give me something that I can hold on to when we return and you . . .”

  Again, she struggled to complete her fevered petition. Her body relaxed into mine as a signal that she was done trying to convince me. She was accepting that any hope for a relationship was a feeble one. I’d watched that belief disappear in reality, and now . . . now I was witnessing its death in her dreams.

  It was that realization that obliterated any kind of resistance in me. Let them believe I was a monster, because I knew I played my role masterfully, and their hateful opinions meant nothing to me.

  But hers . . . somehow, along the way, she had come to matter.

  “Catriona,” I whispered again, the thudding of my heart loud in my ears. “Will just one moment be enough? I can’t give you what you want, but if a small token will appease you, then . . .”

  My words faded away as I cradled her face in both hands.

  What I was about to do was extremely dangerous. Not for her, but for me. It threatened to unravel any hope of being the particular beast needed to exact my revenge.

  Love and hate couldn’t exist within a person at the same time.

  Catriona claimed that it would be enough for her—that she would cherish whatever morsel I offered, but the truth was this:

  I didn’t know if it would be enough for me.

  Could one more taste last a lifetime?

  Lowering my head, my mouth hovered over hers, lips barely touching. We were both lonely. We both craved an intimacy that had so far been withheld from us. It made sense to find that comfort with each other.

  But at what cost?

  Was loving Catriona worth abandoning my thirst for retribution?

  Which battle could I live with—the violence and singular focus required to hunt my cursers to the ends of the earth, or the agonizing restraint needed to ignore my need for this remarkable woman?

  She had shown no fear when facing me, a man who had no qualms about treating her worse than the horses in his stables. She’d shown incredible courage, facing days filled with the unknown, her life no longer her own to control.

  Knox had been right. I’d been wrong this whole time. Perhaps trusting Catriona and giving in to the feelings we both shared could only bring happiness to my dark existence.

  Maybe.

  Hopefully.

  I couldn’t think any more. Closing the distance between us, I seized her mouth and surrendered. I kissed her as though everything depended on the electricity passing between us. I poured every piece of me into it, and she replied with her own intensity.

  I was drowning in her.

  I lost myself in her.

  For the briefest of seconds, I would’ve given up everything for her—my mission, the search for a cure, every twisted thought that had consumed me and shaped me into the man who now clung to her like a lifeline.

  It wasn’t until a thought brazenly infiltrated my mind that I dared to pull away, breaking the seal of our mouths.

  We both stood there with heaving chests, desperately trying to slow our breathing, lips bruised from our outburst of passion. Her hair was mussed, and I longed to drag her back against me, to embrace her and never let go.

  But there was no denying that one traitorous thought.

  She doesn’t know who you truly are.

  And with that singular sentence, I woke up with a start.

  Chapter 9

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come into this room.

  Catriona lay peacefully under the covers, still locked in the dream we’d shared. The dwindling flame of a candle slowly burned, offering a small amount of light in the darkened bedchamber.

  Turn around and leave, an inner voice cried, trying to reason with my heart. This path will only lead to misery.

  I agreed with the thought blaring inside my head, but it didn’t prevent me from completely entering her sanctuary and closing the door behind me. The effects of the kiss we’d exchanged—her plea for something more than merely coexisting in the same house—all these things wreaked havoc over my senses.

  It felt as though my entire being was at war with itself, and for the first time, I was undecided how to move forward. It didn’t matter that I’d instantly rushed to her side, hoping to continue the kiss that had ravaged my self-control. The truth still rang loud and clear.

  Catriona St. James had no idea with whom she was begging to have a meaningful relationship. Whatever ideals she imagined while she hid away in this room—whatever fantasies she concocted in her lover’s dream hideaway—I could never be that man for her.

  The sooner she understood why it was impossible, the faster she could relinquish those expectations and accept the bitter hand Fate had dealt us both.

  I needed to wake her and take her to the only place I knew that would remove any confusion and release me from the temptation of wanting what we couldn’t have.

  She let out a faint sigh and shifted slowly, not resting until she found a comfortable spot. It felt like a sin to wake her—to shatter the tranquility that graced her beautiful features and replace it with one of revulsion and disgust.

  There would be no gazing up at me, no sinking into my embrace, once she’d heard my complete confession. She would be confined to a doomed marriage and left to live out the rest of her days in bleakness, always hoping for the one thing she couldn’t obtain.

  “Catriona,” I whispered, nudging her arm to rouse her. I was on the verge of losing my nerve, of bargaining with my conscience that a few more minutes of ignorant bliss would be worth it.

  A coward’s choice, but it was all I could do not to take a seat and continue watching her sleep. Such beauty right before me was a heady invitation to refuse.

  I repeated her name again, this time louder.

  Thick eyelashes fluttered open, and it took her a few moments to completely wake up. I knew the instant she recognized she wasn’t alone, because she quickly sat up and tugged the bedding up under her chin, as though it would protect her from my cruelty.

  She was no longer the Catriona from the dream.

  I mourned that it was seeing me that destroyed it.

  “Mr. St. James?” she asked, her voice shaky. Strands of her thick black hair were messed from her pillow, and I watched in fascination, wanting to smooth it out for her.

  “There is something I want to show you,” I answered, shaking myself to dislodge the lovesick thoughts that threatened to addle my brain. This was the very reason why I didn’t want to get close to her—to allow myself to feel anything toward Catriona beside obligation. “Come, you’ll need to put on your shoes and an overcoat.”

  She didn’t move. She simply stared at me as though I was some apparition delivering a message that made little sense.

  “Did you hear me?” I asked, this time going to retrieve her
coat myself. “There is a conversation we must have that is long overdue. All I ask is that you hear me out and make your decision once you’ve heard all the details.” Holding out the jacket, I waited as she quietly slipped on her shoes.

  It wasn’t until she’d finished buttoning up her winter coat that she spoke. “Can this not wait until the morning?” Her words were muffled behind her hand as she stifled a yawn. As she came closer to me, she sniffed the air. “Are you drunk? Is that why you’re dragging me from my bed?” She had the sense to look apprehensive.

  I did my best to feed her fears. “You need to be afraid, Catriona.” It was difficult not to take offense when she flinched away from my extended hand. “I won’t hurt you. You have my word.”

  With a trust I wasn’t worthy of, she placed her hands firmly in mine, and nodded. “Then show me, Marcus.”

  We walked through the house in absolute silence, neither of us breathing a word. Only our footsteps echoed in the still hallway as I slowly led her out through the kitchen door into the cool early-morning air. The sun had yet to peep above the tree line, and the chirping birds that often sang their song each morning were still nestled in their nests.

  There was a crispness that left me feeling alive. It was chilly enough to set goose bumps across my skin.

  “Slow down, Marcus,” she begged, tripping over the hem of her nightgown and clutching my arm for balance. “I’m not familiar with the path we’re on, and I don’t want to fall.”

  In my haste, I’d forgotten that she often kept to the house and inner gardens. I’d chosen the place where I went to reflect specifically for that reason. Not even Knox ventured this way.

  “Only a little farther, and then I’ll explain everything,” I promised, and gripped her hand tighter. The hero in a story might have gathered her up in his arms, offering to carry her safely, but I was already skating on thin ice. Even if Catriona was able to look past the curse, I wasn’t her hero.

  It was everything I could do not to be her own personal villain.

  There was always a solemn hush whenever I entered the clearing, and it was no different now. It was only a small glen, but surrounded by tall trees, and with the full moon shining above, I was reminded why I chose to build the gravesite for Primrose here.

  Her body was buried far from here, but I’d erected the gravestone as a reminder of what had been lost that night. I came here every day to offer my penance for somehow playing a part in her death. I’d eventually remembered being knocked across the head by cutthroats, after trying to protect Primrose from their advances. It truly had been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I’d still been there.

  I’d spent hours trying to convince myself that I’d done everything I could to defend her honor. The strangers had spewed out such filth at the young gypsy woman, I was surprised God didn’t strike them down for such depravity.

  Many prayers had been offered up as I knelt beside the simple stone carving, pouring my heart out with the hopes that somehow God would show mercy and pity my feeble attempts.

  In the beginning, I came looking for redemption.

  All I had left was bitter prayers that I would one day meet my maker having found my vengeance.

  “Who is she?”

  It was my turn to jump. I’d forgotten she was standing there, my thoughts consuming me again.

  My voiced cracked from thick emotion. “Her name was Primrose.”

  Catriona stepped between me and the headstone, trailing her fingers lightly across the top. “Did you love her? Is that why you can’t love me?”

  She squinted at me, hoping to catch the truth through my reaction to her questions.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to lie to her, to sugarcoat what I wanted to tell her, so I would at least be seen in a favorable light. But that wasn’t the reason behind me bringing her here.

  Just as the night gave way to the day—the moon setting as the sun rose—I couldn’t remain in the shadows with her anymore. I needed her to see me . . . to see all the horrible flaws and choices I’d made. Nothing was as brutal as that first ray of light, because there was no hiding from its blinding honesty.

  Guiding her to the wooden bench I’d spent many evenings sitting on, I paced back and forth in front of her, suddenly nervous.

  “Listen to what I have to say in its entirety. Once I’m done, I will answer whatever questions you might have. I only ask that you reserve judgment until the last detail has been confessed.”

  She nodded in agreement. “What’s brought about this change in heart, Marcus?” There was a soft smile when she realized she’d already disobeyed my request. “I only ask so I don’t dwell on it.”

  “How were your dreams tonight?” I countered, bracing myself for her anger. “Did you enjoy your time in the ruins?”

  Her mouth dropped open with astonishment, and she shrank back against the bench, her hands clutching at her gown. Each time she began to speak, Catriona shook her head, dismissing the thought.

  “I took a potion so I could visit you in your dreams,” I continued, studying her to see how she might react. She appeared eerily calm and not the feisty woman who’d threatened to sneak into my room at night and chain me to my bed so she could escape. “Catriona?” Her silence was unnerving.

  “That was real?” she finally asked, her eyes wide as saucers. “That means we . . .” Her fingers pressed against her lips as if she was remembering the passion between us.

  I nodded. “Invading your dreams is one of many sins I need to confess to you.” I took a step toward her and thought better of it. I didn’t trust myself right now, and as my hunger flared deep in my gut, I realized I should’ve gone to Knox for fortification before attempting this heavy conversation. “Will you listen to what I need to say?”

  It looked like she didn’t trust herself to respond, either. Nodding, she folded her hands in her lap and gave me her full attention.

  Suddenly at a loss for words, I glanced over to Primrose’s memorial, praying that somewhere in her afterlife, she could see I was trying to do the right thing.

  Taking in a deep breath, and with the morning’s first rays brightening the sky, I then prayed for courage to see this retelling through to the devastating end.

  For Catriona.

  For Primrose.

  For the broken pieces of my soul.

  Waiting for her to speak was an exercise in agony.

  I had divulged it all, leaving no detail untold as I gave a faithful account of that night in the alleyway, of Primrose’s death and the subsequent cursing by her kin.

  I described the person I had transformed myself into—the reasoning behind embracing my new life as a blood drinker—how easy it had been to become cruel and hostile to those around me.

  I spoke about that night, how in desperation and anguish I’d vowed my most solemn oath of vengeance. I shared each failed attempt in finding the gypsy clan. I spoke of the carnage I had wielded—the bodies and blood I had consumed in my pursuits.

  I had resembled a feral animal in those days before Knox planted those few seeds of faith that he could find the answers I needed. Story after story, I confessed my thirst and hunger for blood and gore, of leaving trails of dead behind me, of being the very killer many in the country whispered about.

  I didn’t stop—even when her gasps grew louder and louder—or the look of horror remained across her face. With each syllable, the possibility of ever kissing her again, of truly being a husband to her, faded away until it blinked out of existence.

  This was what I wanted.

  I wanted her to see me for the beast I was, and to give up her futile attempts to tame me.

  I wanted her to run away from me screaming.

  I wanted her to declare her own oath—that for as long as she drew breath, she would fight to stop me harming innocent people.

  There was so much I needed from her—from her reaction—but it didn’t keep the whole ordeal from feeling like I was slowly being gutted, one
agonizing cut at a time.

  I needed her to loathe my very presence.

  I needed her to curse my birth and wish for my speedy death.

  Yet she did neither, and that was what devastated me.

  She didn’t offer her condemnation nor her acceptance.

  I wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d give me her forgiveness, but something—anything but her silence—would’ve been enough.

  Finally, she let out a faint breath, and looked at me. “Why tell me all this?”

  Her stare unmanned me. “Because it’s the only thing I can give you, Catriona. You showed me your heart in your dreams, and I felt you deserved the same in return. While I can never give anyone my love and affection, I can at least help you understand why.”

  She slowly nodded as if she was struggling to digest it all. “Well, I appreciate that, Marcus.”

  Her brow crinkled from the heavy thoughts mulling about inside her head. At least, I assumed they were heavy. I knew mine were.

  “Do you have any questions for me?” I asked, hoping that might alleviate some of the tension. “I promised you I would answer them all as truthfully as I can.”

  “You drink blood.” Fact.

  I bobbed my head.

  She nervously raised her hand to her throat. “Do you want to drink mine?”

  I took a step back to grant her some space. “There was a time when I would’ve taken from you, whenever I wanted.” Her eyes widened again, and I almost expected her to get up and flee. “However, Knox has made it so I only need to feed once a day. He procures the blood I need and then adds his special ingredients to it. It enables me to control that part of me without becoming a ravaging beast.”

  That surprised her. “You want to live like this?” Her incredulous tone was understandable.

  “All I had was my honor when I walked into that alley with Primrose. I wasn’t guilty of the crimes they accused me of, yet they cursed me anyway. They reduced me to this.” I didn’t hide the bitterness I felt, smacking my hands against my chest in anger. “Justice demands to be appeased. They will pay for what they’ve stolen from me.”