But what if someone else came along and he no longer wanted her? What if he got tired of her? Eternity was a long-ass time to stay with one partner.
Slow, approaching footsteps drew her attention to the front gate. Jonas, Adam’s father, met her stare and nodded a silent greeting as he returned from his after dinner stroll to check the animals.
She dropped her feet to the floor and sat up. “I was just—”
He held up a hand, saving her the need for any excuse. “Our home is yours.”
She smiled with appreciation for his hospitality. “Thanks.”
“Mind if I sit?”
She wasn’t about to tell him no. “Not at all.”
The rocker whined under his weight. They stared into the distance. At first the silence was nice, but as it stretched, the more she felt this wasn’t an accidental visit.
They swayed in unison, a soft breeze cutting across the porch and carrying the scent of flowers from the gate. The still beauty encapsulated this place in time, far enough removed that it could easily seem like no other world existed.
“You like it here.”
She turned at his comment. He wasn’t asking but observing. She smiled. “How could I not? It’s beautiful.”
He nodded. “Very different from what you’re used to, I assume.”
“Extremely. But not in a bad way. It’s much more peaceful here.”
“Did Adam ever speak to you of his great-uncle Isaiah?”
He’d mentioned a lot of names since arriving on the farm, but that wasn’t one she recognized. “I don’t think so.”
“He was my uncle, brother to my father, Ezekiel. An impressive man.”
Adam had mentioned his grandfather several times. He often sought advice from him and apparently, he was part of the Council of Elders who made the rules. But she was pretty sure he never mentioned him having a brother.
“Adam mentioned taking me to meet his older relatives.”
“You won’t meet Isaiah. He was lost to our kind decades ago.”
She should have caught on that he’d been speaking in past tense, but she hadn’t been expecting an immortal to die. Her mind immediately wondered how.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Adam tells me you’ve recently lost your mother. I, too, am sorry.”
Her heart still stung over condolences. “Thank you.”
“The grief of losing my uncle pained me for a long time. The ache is still there, but somehow, I’ve learned to live with it like an appendage. I doubt the loss ever fully disappears.”
She doubted it as well. While she’d come to carry her grief without complaint or tears, the weight never left her. Sometimes it got lighter and sometimes it felt crushing, but it was always there.
“Will you tell me about him?”
Jonas rocked slowly, the planks of the porch giving a soothing, broken in moan with each sway. “He was kind, generous, and patient with the children. Adored by all. When I think back to my youth, he held an almost mythological presence in my life, sort of like the man you English call Saint Nicholas.”
“How did you lose him?”
His eyes never left the black horizon. “One day, he fell from a horse. It’s rare for our kind to suffer clumsiness, but he’d lost his balance and the fall knocked him unconscious. He was out for days, which is also rare. When he came to, his motor skills were impaired and his agility…”
“I thought your kind…”
“It’s true we have accelerated healing abilities, but when we are called, a sort of cellular mutation takes place, faster in some than others. Every immortal is different. Our human nature becomes diseased and our animal nature takes over.”
“Darwinism.” When he gave her a confused look, she explained, “It’s the natural selection of every species. No matter what we are, we all evolve in order to survive.”
Jonas gave a solemn nod. “Survival is the last remaining instinct.” His gaze focused on a faraway memory. “I had never witnessed such an extreme change in one of our kind. He could hardly walk some days and I waited for him to heal, but as time went on his condition only degenerated. It pained me to see him suffer. It pained me to see him go. But I knew by then, it was necessary.”
“How old was he when this started happening?” Her mind immediately went into fact checking mode. Maybe their definition for immortality was actually just an expanded life and a strong immune system.
“Isaiah was quite old, one of the first to settle here after living several lifetimes in Europe.”
His gaze remained pinned to the distant mountains, but he stopped rocking. Anna stopped as well. When he spoke again, his voice dropped to a near whisper.
“Abilene prepared a basket of food one morning. I was to take it to my uncle and check that he was managing on his own. He lived alone, without children or a mate, and since the fall he’d kept to himself more than usual.”
His fingers tightened on the arms of the chair, his voice sounding slightly haunted by whatever memory he saw.
“When I entered his dwelling, the house reeked of death. Moans echoed from the bedroom. I ran up the stairs and found him unconscious, tossing and turning as if in pain. Our kind only dream when we’re called. But these were not the sounds of a man receiving a blessing. These were the pained cries of a man without hope.”
Her skin prickled. “Were they nightmares?”
“No. He described them as glimpses of heaven.”
She didn’t understand. “But you said he made pained cries of a man without hope.”
“Sometimes love is cruel. When we covet something unattainable, the heart suffers a great deal. For reasons we don’t know, my uncle could not get to his mate. Perhaps he lost time, waiting for his injuries to heal. The signs were there for him to follow, but not enough. He went mad with his need to find her.”
He let out a long breath. “He became a recluse, forced inside by the sun as his body and appetite dwindled. Eventually, even a swallow of water would make him violently ill.”
Her mind flashed to a peach hospital cup, the straw pressed to her mother’s dry lips as she coughed and hacked, trying to keep a mere sip down. Her pain and struggle had always been so excruciating to watch. And she’d been helpless.
“It had to be incredibly difficult to see him so weak.”
Jonas nodded. “As the days went on, he withdrew deeper into the house, moving into the root cellar where sun couldn’t penetrate. Without plants and animals in our diet, our ability to withstand light disappears. Sun and fire become one in the same and the slightest exposure can burn the flesh right off the bone.”
Adam had complained earlier about the sun. When he returned home, she saw the pain in his eyes. But there had been no physical damage. Perhaps that meant they still had time.
“The more symptoms he suffered, the more death surrounded him. The stench of rotting life touched every inch of his home as his soul fouled what hid within. Weakness hobbled him. He grew fearful and irrational, untrusting of others, including those he depended on.”
“Why didn’t he try to find her?”
“No one knows. Such resistance to the call was unheard of. But by this point, it was too late. My father argued with him to the point of bloodshed. Isaiah refused to leave his house. He threw us out and told us to leave him to his misery. My father was devastated. We all were.
“The man I adored was gone. The husk of a man remained, without humanity, and only a rotting soul at his core. As an Elder on the Council, Isaiah’s absence didn’t go unnoticed and soon the order came to put him down.”
She thought of her mother in the final stages, how her thumb clung to the morphine, and Annalise helplessly watched her endure the slow agony of death. She often wondered, during those long, final days, if her mother’s passing would be a blessing for all. Such a wretched thought that still filled her with shame, but she couldn’t bear to watch her suffer anymore. She resented her inability to bring her mother a quicker end. To bring her p
eace.
Wiping a tear away from the soft skin beneath her eyes, she whispered, “Sometimes death is a blessing.”
Jonas nodded. “Especially to a man whose life became a curse.”
“I’m sorry, Jonas. I know how difficult that must have been.” She wanted to take his hand, but something told her he wouldn’t allow it. Whether it was pride or propriety, she didn’t know.
“He was suffering. Animal blood could no longer sustain him, and as soon as night fell, he’d hunt.”
“Hunt?”
“His animal instincts took over. Corpses fell in his wake. Flocks of sheep slaughtered in one night. An entire herd of cattle bled dry in a week’s time. Yet he remained ravenous. It was too late. Even if he found his mate, he’d already lost his soul. The beast consumed what was left of him and eventually broke free.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We couldn’t contain him. He’d escape to the woods, leaving a trail of carnage in his tracks, venturing farther and farther every night until one dawn he didn’t return. He’d reached the town, and brutalized women. In a bloodthirsty hunt for his illusive mate, he raped and murdered countless innocents.”
Her hand closed around her throat. Could such a fate happen to Adam? Is that what he’d become without her blood? And what if she gave him blood, but refused to bond?
She finally understood what he’d been trying to tell her. There was no other option. Without bonding, he would die. An execution would only protect others, and save Adam pain. There could be no saving himself. That responsibility fell to her.
“Can that—”
“Yes,” Jonas answered, without needing to hear her question. “My son’s time is limited.”
Maybe Adam was different. He was gentle and good, but Jonas described Isaiah similarly. She couldn’t understand how someone so good could become so evil. Then she realized if Adam lost his humanity, he would lose all the pieces of him that made him good, all the parts she cared about.
“I see the desperation in your eyes. You want to find a way to save him without sacrifice.” He turned to look at her. “I love my children very much, Annalise. If there were another way to save him, I would gladly tell you. But there’s not. The same beast that overtook my uncle lives in all of us. Adam is battling it every day. He won’t win the battle. Not without you.”
She struggled to swallow. “How much time will my blood buy him?”
“No one knows for sure. Each couple is different. Sometimes the bonding is first and the rest comes second. Adam is trying to do right by you, and it’s costing him.”
“He’s asking me to give up my entire life.”
“But he’s also offering to sacrifice his. I see what he’s doing, and I can only respect him for trying to hold onto his honor until the very end. But there will come an end, Annalise. This place, these people… There is life here. There’s hope. And there will always be memories if you choose to walk away.”
Guilt swamped her and she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. “I’m trying to make the right decision. But I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“If we were only given the things we asked for, imagine how many gifts would be missed. Sometimes, God gives us exactly what we need, no more, no less.”
She envied their beliefs. Her own weren’t as strong.
“My father saw my uncle’s treachery as his responsibility. Family is a great honor and obligation. The lives lost were our burden to bear. We had a duty to find him. To … end him.”
She sat up, realizing this story might not have a happy ending. “Did you?”
“We found him deep in the northern woods, just beyond the border of Canada. The scent of bloodshed saturated the air around him. He’d been draining the body of a woman who had drawn her last breath hours before. Fetid blood can cause insanity, and by the trail of bodies we’d found, he’d been living off the blood of corpses for weeks. Not just drinking them, but…” He looked away. “He’d use them until there was nothing left, shredding their flesh like ribbons, claws buried as their organs fell out.”
Each breath became a chore as she tried not to imagine such a grotesque sight. She could envision the monster so clearly the hair rose at the back of her neck. She’d glimpsed Adam’s rage in the field, when his twin thought to pretend he was Adam. She’d thought an animal had attacked, but no.
“It was up until that moment,” Jonas continued, “seeing my uncle rutting into a corpse, feeding on her cold blood as it leaked from her scored belly and stained his skin, that I believed there might be a chance he could still be saved.” He shook his head. “We were so naïve. A soulless monster… It would have destroyed Isaiah to know what he’d become. But he was already gone.”
“Did you kill him?”
“There’s a potency to human blood that animal blood lacks. He’d glutted himself for weeks and his strength surpassed ours. He nearly killed my father, almost severing his head completely from his neck and spine. I had to pump his heart with my bare hands while others fed him blood, his own spilling too fast to heal his injuries.”
Her hand lifted to her racing heart. The painful memory etched into Jonas’s face, setting deep lines of tension around his mouth and eyes.
“My father’s hair turned white that night. A streak, right here. Our kind doesn’t get gray hair. Our bodies remain in their prime, never appearing to age beyond early adulthood.” He touched his jaw. “It’s why we don’t wear full beards.”
“But your father survived.”
“Yes. Though he couldn’t speak of his brother for many years.”
He stood and Annalise suffered a rush of uncertainty. How could she live with herself if such a fate took Adam?
“Only you can save my son.”
Her vision wavered under a wall of unshed tears. She nodded, unable to make any promises, but now truly understanding the consequences of her options.
Seeing her understand, he placed a hand briefly on her shoulder and walked away.
A chill raced up her spine and she stood. “Jonas?”
His eyes found hers, his expression weathered with worry and tension. “Yes, my child.”
“What happened to Isaiah?”
He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “We can only hope he’s dead.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Adam sensed a shift in Annalise’s emotions when his father came into the house. Moments later, Annalise followed, but avoided eye contact as she rushed upstairs.
Rising from the table where he talked with his mother, Adam quickly apologized for having to leave in the middle of a conversation and went after his mate. When Adam entered his bedroom, Annalise’s frantic emotions pelted him like buckshot. She paced and wrung her hands.
“Anna, what is it?”
She spun to face him, her eyes tight with worry. “Adam, I need to go home.”
His heart knotted, her decision gutting him and knocking him back a step. His hand pressed into the wall, holding him up as his gaze dropped to the floor. Eviscerated by her choice, his heart split in two and he rasped, “I’ll have a carriage readied.”
“Thank you.” She let out a breath, her relief at complete odds with his pain.
He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. “My father will accompany you. It’s best we say our goodbyes now.”
His hands trembled as his mind worked through the methodical steps he’d need to take. First, he’d notify the Elders. They’d place him in a holding cell. She’d be safe from him then. At that point, he’d have his grandfather inform his mother and sisters.
His eyes closed. This was what he’d wanted. He’d promised the decision would be hers and he was honor bound to respect her choice, no matter how it gutted him.
He gripped the front of his shirt, fisting the material as the pain in his chest exploded. It would all be over soon.
“You should go,” he rasped. Beneath his heartbreak bubbled a rage he might not be able to deflect. He couldn’t look
at her.
“Adam.”
He flinched, eyes pressed shut as she touched his face. “Please, Anna. This is already unbearable.”
“Look at me,” she whispered, cupping his jaw. Her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth. “Look at me, Adam”
He forced his eyes to open and her image blurred. A sharp sob lodged in his throat, choking him as he refused to air his pain. His jaw trembled as he clenched his teeth.
She stared up at him with those beautiful eyes. “I want you to come with me.”
His muscles were locked so tight it muffled his hearing. He twitched with misunderstanding. “What?”
“I’m not abandoning you. I want you to take me home so I can take care of some things. That way, if you need me, I’m there.” She raised her wrist and pointed to her vein.
He tried to laugh, but all the breath in his lungs seemed frozen solid. “You aren’t saying goodbye?”
“No.” She smiled. “Not yet.”
Not ever, he hoped. “I…” He was speechless. He smiled. “I love you.”
Her smile turned sad. “Adam, I haven’t made up my—”
“I know.” He nodded. “But you also haven’t closed it off. We can leave tonight. Traveling by day will be difficult.”
She frowned, her eyes searching his as she gently held his face. “Because of the sun?”
He nodded. “While I appreciate you offering me your blood, you need your strength. Traveling by night will be less challenging for me.”
“Conservation. Got it.” She let go of his face and returned to pacing. “I need to check on my apartment and call my boss. My co-workers will be wondering where I’ve been, and I can’t let them worry.”
“You want to see the bartender?”
“I need to do this, Adam. They’re the only family I have and they’re probably worried sick. It’s not like me to miss work without calling. I’ll have to make up an excuse—tell them I had the flu or something.”
“I can take away their worry.”
She stilled. “What? You mean compel them to forget me?”
He nodded. “Or compel them to let you go.”
Original Sin (The Order of Vampires Book 1) Page 29
