Walk away.
Look how happy she is. Look how happy he can make her.
You have to walk away.
“Where is Tucker?” She looked around frantically, as if he wasn’t sitting right in front of her, dying a slow death. “Please, can I see him?”
Whatever answer was given in her head seemed to relax her.
She sat still, expectant.
Then grew alarmed.
“No,” she whispered, reaching out. “No, it’s fading. Please. Just long enough to…”
A rusted sob emerged from her throat and then she went still, her hands reaching out once more and connecting with his face. “Tucker.” Her alert tone told him she was no longer dreaming. Should he have been upset or relieved? He didn’t know. Didn’t know how to feel and his nervous system seemed to take pity on him, numbing every single part of him, down to his fingertips. “Tucker, are you there?”
“I’m here,” he said dully, leaning forward so she could have better access to his face. “I’m here. You’re okay. We’re in my father’s yard.”
“You gave us a scare,” exhaled his father, sounding unsure and confused by the whole situation. “I-I’m going to run inside and get you some water.”
“Thanks, Pops,” Tucker managed past the manacle around his throat. He reached out to pick some grass out of Mary’s hair, smoothing down the wayward strands. “No cows this time, but that was still one of the wildest driving lessons I’ve been a part of.”
Mary shook herself. “I didn’t…I didn’t crash—”
“No, honey. Everything is fine.” He squeezed his eyes closed and braced himself. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere,” she whispered. “Not really. It was a dream, but…” She tipped her head back and let out a shuddering exhale toward the night sky. “Oh, Tucker. I could see. The world is so much more…more than I ever imagined. There was a sunset and the ocean a-and red. I think it’s my favorite color.”
His heart swelled, his happiness for her eclipsing the pain, love flowing through him with such mighty force that he laughed brokenly. “That’s amazing, Mary. Damn, that’s amazing.”
“Yes.”
She sucked in a breath and held it, a deep groove forming between her eyes. He recognized her conflict. Saw the way it was already eating at her, this pure-hearted young woman. His love, his friend, his mate.
She’d promised Tucker she would stay, but that was before she knew exactly what she’d be missing—and now she wouldn’t know how to let him down.
So he would do it for her. His final act as her mate, as a being who walked this earth, would be to make this hard decision easier. For her.
As Mary was fae—and a blind person at that—Tucker didn’t know if she could be compelled. But in that moment, with so much anguish and purpose and intent trapped in his core, along with all the untapped power he’d gained by drinking from his mate, Tucker had no doubt that if it was at all possible, he could perform the feat tonight. With Mary’s happiness on the line, his body conjured the ability. Conjured it so forcefully that discarded items in the field lifted several inches into the air, the weather vane spinning madly on top of the barn in the sudden onslaught of wind.
Molten liquid rushed through his veins and a film dropped over his eyes, causing him to see Mary’s beautiful face through a hazy veil. It was as though his body went through the necessary motions, taking pity on him and numbing his mind, so he wouldn’t have to think any more about what he was doing.
What he would lose.
All he saw was what Mary would gain. Without him.
He leaned forward and spoke against her ear, his tone thin and rasping. “How about that slow dance I won?” Tucker said.
“Okay,” she murmured, her voice dreamlike, allowing Tucker to pull her up, into his arms where they swayed slowly, his nose buried in her hair and inhaling desperately, memorizing the shape of her against him. Pressed too tightly to allow a breath of air between their bodies. “But you lost at Jenga.”
“Humor me?” He allowed himself another few seconds, their feet moving slowly on the grass. “Sleep now, Mary. Go to sleep and don’t wake up until tomorrow.”
Mary shook her head rapidly, as if trying to clear it, alarm bringing her shoulders up to her ears, her hands twisting in the front of his shirt, though her movements were sluggish. “No, no, no. Tucker, wait…”
“Sleep,” he growled.
Tucker caught her limp body in his arms when it went lifeless. Moving on autopilot, he brought her to the back seat of the Impala, lying her down gently. With an invisible axe lodged in his jugular, he went to go say goodbye to his father one final time.
* * *
Tucker was numb by the time he pulled the Impala up to the gate at the end of the long stone driveway. Tilda stood waiting by her own idling vehicle, a cigarette perched between her fingers, smoke winding above her head in the nighttime air.
Nothing moved but her eyes.
They shifted to where Mary lay sleeping in the backseat of his car, still out cold from being compelled, her head resting on his bunched-up leather jacket.
A full minute passed of Tilda measuring the situation before she approached the car and leaned down, urging him without words to roll the window down.
“What is wrong with her?”
“Nothing,” Tucker said, tone rusted. “She’s only sleeping. Her heartbeat is as steady as ever.”
Tilda took a long pull of her cigarette, the tip of her smoke blazing along with her eyes. “So is yours, vampire.”
A sudden rush of pain threatened to paralyze Tucker, but he stabbed his teeth down into his tongue and staved it off, reminding himself there was no other choice but to leave Mary. To give her this gift of happiness. He could still hear the wonder in her voice upon seeing for the first time. “I’ve brought your daughter here as you asked,” Tucker managed around the fist in his throat. “I only ask for your promise that Hadrian’s intentions toward her are good. That he won’t…” His heart dropped to his stomach. “Won’t ever hurt her. Please promise me that.”
“Hurting her would not be acting in his own interest, would it?” Tilda snapped. “She is Hadrian’s key to power. He might be on the combative side, but he will not squander his good fortune.”
“You will remain here with her until the wedding?” He looked her hard in the eye, searching for any sign of deception. “Until the Assembly returns?”
Did her expression soften slightly out of pity? Normally he would hate that, but he was beyond feeling resentment now. He could only swing between nothingness and agony. “Yes, of course,” Tilda responded. “Where she goes, I go.”
Tucker remained in place, eyes closed as Tilda easily lifted Mary from Tucker’s backseat, her fae strength on display, transferring the sleeping fairy to her own car.
Go.
Go!
The greatest gift he could give was his absence.
He made it a mile before moisture crowded his eyes, his pitiful roar loud enough to chill every human and immortal who heard it.
Chapter 21
Mary woke up screaming.
Was that her mother shaking her? The hands were familiar and when Tilda called her name, her awful suspicion was confirmed. She was no longer at the farmhouse in Buckhannon.
It felt as though she’d closed her eyes one minute earlier in Tucker’s embrace. She could still feel the warmth of it. His mint and cigar scent clung to the palms of her hands and she stopped screaming only so that she might inhale them. Just like the vampire himself, the scent of him grounded her long enough to sit up and feel around.
A pitiful sob wracked her.
Hadrian’s manor. That’s where she was. The freezing temperature and violent energy told her so. Having her mother there was little comfort when she last thing she remembered was Tucker ordering her to sleep in that terrible voice, so unlike his deep, jovial one. Why? Why did he force her to lose consciousness? It was common knowledge that vampires could compel
humans, but she was an immortal. How did he do it? Why?
“No…no, he couldn’t have,” she rasped. “He…”
“Mary, thank goodness you’ve calmed down before breaking any of the windows.” Tilda sniffed pointedly. “We have much to discuss.”
“Where is Tucker?” Mary lunged onto her knees, catching her mother’s clothing in her hands. “How did I get here?”
“Tucker called and let me know you were on the way. I met him at the gate.” Her mother laughed lightly, nervously. “Mary, I don’t understand why you’re so confused. Everything happened as planned.”
“You expected me to show up unconscious?” Mary didn’t wait for an answer. No explanation would be satisfying when she couldn’t sense Tucker anywhere nearby. He was gone.
He’d left her.
She fell sideways on to the bed and circled into a ball, drawing her knees up to her chin and holding them tightly, lest she break apart. The organ in her chest was already beating in jagged clunks, laboring to operate under the strain. One word continued to butt up against the insides of her skull. Why? Why?
They loved each other. She’d decided to stay.
And then…
Ignoring Tilda’s impatient pleas for her to sit up and have a calm discussion, Mary swiped her wrist under her nose and replayed the last conversation she’d had with Tucker.
Oh, Tucker. I could see.
The world is so much more…more than I ever imagined.
There was a sunset and the ocean a-and red. I think it’s my favorite color.
Had Tucker witnessed her joy and believed she would trade him for her eyesight?
Had he witnessed her utter astonishment over the world’s beauty and found himself unable to keep her?
Agony nearly split her down the middle. One more minute. If only he’d given her one more minute. Of course she’d wanted to share her experience with him. The whole time she’d been locked in the dream, it was what she’d thought of most. How much she wanted to be sharing every single moment with her vampire. And if he would have waited, she would have told him what she’d realized while staring out at Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
She would have told Tucker that she’d already been whole.
That she’d already been home. With him.
Sight was a gift. Sight was extraordinary. But having it didn’t determine her ability to love. To be loved. It didn’t determine whether she was worthy of love, either. Her heart did that. Her choices. Her actions. They made Mary who she was—and Tucker had nurtured that truth when others didn’t. Others who should have.
She was a blind person. The lack of sight was part of her. Learning to compensate for not being able to see had turned her into Mary. Someone she admired. Someone she was at peace with. And if Tucker would have waited one more minute, she would have told him that sight meant nothing if she couldn’t look upon his face.
When she’d begged Hadrian to allow her one moment to see Tucker, he’d released her from the dream with a wave of his wrist. With her last seconds of sight, she’d wanted desperately to glimpse her vampire, if only so he would know she’d choose him above all others, whether she was or blind or not. But the leader of the dark uprising wouldn’t allow it and the lost opportunity was excruciating. Had Tucker interpreted her grief as something else?
Mary sat up in the bed and composed herself as much as possible with her heart shattered in a million pieces. She bounced between melancholy and indignation at Tucker for leaving her without so much as a discussion. But mostly, she was determined.
“Mother, a lot has happened since I left New York. Even though I was only away for a short time, I’ve had a lot of time to think and experience and feel.” To fall in love. “It isn’t easy for me to say this, because I know for so long, we’ve had this promise between us. That we would find a way to bring back the fae and reunite our family, but…I don’t think this is the right thing for me.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I don’t think it’s the right thing for you, either—”
Footsteps coming closer on the other side of the door cut her off.
Malice danced in the air, far more substantial than in her dream. It thickened in the atmosphere around them like smoke. Hadrian was coming. And in that moment she realized how utterly naïve she’d been all along. Until coming face to face with her intended, she’d only heard stories of evil doers. Immortals with bad intentions. Mere fables. Maybe she’d even been idealistic enough to believe that kindness could change someone. Right now, though, she couldn’t stop thinking of the pure, black hatred in Hadrian’s eyes.
In her dream, he was more serpent than vampire. Slithering and gliding instead of walking. It brought to mind Tucker’s theory that a Silenced vampire could be good or bad, depending on how they died. If that was true, Hadrian must have died while wielding destruction.
A door creaked open slowly. “Ah, she’s awake.”
Mary couldn’t disguise the shiver that blew up her spine. “I’d like to speak to my mother alone, please.”
“Mary!” Tilda admonished. “She’s still waking up,” she explained to Hadrian.
“I’m not a child. I know exactly what I’m saying.” Mary wished she wasn’t in the vulnerable position of lying in bed. Wished she were fully dressed, instead of wearing the oversized T-shirt her mother must have found in her suitcase, mistaking it for a nightgown. But it wasn’t. It was Tucker’s. God, she could smell him on it and it bruised her insides with bereavement. “We’re having a private discussion.”
“Now, Mary,” Hadrian said, his voice reminding her of thorns pushing up beneath silk. “I came here to restore your sight as a sign of good faith before the wedding. But perhaps we should wait until afterward.”
She kept her features schooled, but her thoughts raced.
First, there was no way she could marry this man.
Not only did he have evil intentions for the underworld, but marrying another would dishonor her love for Tucker. Even being in this vampire’s manor with a union having been discussed felt inherently wrong. It turned her stomach.
Second, she had to get back to Tucker.
Had to find a way out of here fast, before she was forced to go through with the wedding, and track down the only man she would ever love. The man whose absence was like a gaping hole in her chest.
Escaping was key—and she had a feeling Tilda wouldn’t be any help whatsoever. Even now, she could feel disapproval radiating from the woman. Mary was no match for Hadrian, the vampire who could give Tilda what she wanted above all else. Her husband and influence back.
Power.
Mary would never be enough for her. But Mary was enough for herself.
That’s what counted.
The next few hours counted, too, and she could help herself a lot better and faster with the use of her eyes. She knew that even after just a short while of being able to see. Trying to escape the hold without her eyesight would be next to impossible. Where would she even go once she got outside?
She needed Hadrian and his abilities.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her mouth dry. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“All is forgiven.” Hadrian’s footsteps moved in a slow arc around the foot of the bed. “Your reluctant apology speaks to an eagerness to have your blindness lifted.”
Mary bowed her head. “Yes.”
“Perhaps you’re looking forward to doing some more traveling?”
“Traveling?” Tilda questioned. “I don’t understand.”
Mary reached toward her mother and placed a hand on her arm, but continued to address Hadrian. “Yes. The places you showed me in the dream were beautiful.”
“They were, indeed.” The vampire’s voice was growing sharper. “However, when I said you’d like to do some traveling with your new, working pair of eyes, I meant you’d like to travel away from here and back to your lover. That is your intention, no?”
There was no sense in denying it. She could only sit there s
hivering, no longer certain if it was from fear or the unbearable cold.
“I promise you, Hadrian, my daughter will make good on her word.”
“Oh? And what weight does your promise carry with me, Tilda? A mother who would sacrifice her daughter to an unscrupulous fucker like me?”
Tilda sputtered. “I’ve been nothing but forthright—”
“I think I’ve heard enough,” Hadrian sighed, sounding bored, but his pronouncement was followed by the unmistakable sound of a body running into a wall. Hard. And her mother’s grunt of pain was further proof.
“What are you doing?” Mary cried, starting to come off the bed.
An unmovable force pinned her down.
Not Hadrian’s hands or body, but the power surely came from him.
“Please don’t hurt my mother,” Mary gasped.
“You’ll soon learn, my dear, that I do whatever I want.” Tilda’s body slammed against the wall again and Mary started to cry. “You’ll be given your sight back, Mary, but if you leave this manor, it will be gone again. You can only see as long as you’re in my keeping. Not the tradeoff you were expecting? Well, more’s the pity. You were warned about me, I’m sure.” A hand wrapped tightly around Mary’s neck, making her jolt, but she couldn’t lift her hands to remove the choking grip. They were pinned to the bed.
Cool metal brushed against her face, the lack of oxygen traveling to her brain posing a delay in her realizing what it was.
A necklace?
No, heavier. Like an amulet.
It vibrated like an intense force, inviting her to reach out and read the signature. Giving her no choice. She’d never used her gift on an inanimate object before, but she could sense the life within and it pulled her close, engaged her mind without a formal order. And when she encountered the sheer strength of the malevolence within the amulet, it took all of her willpower not to gasp. Such power locked inside something so small.
“I will have my alliance,” Hadrian hissed, distracting her. “The vampire throne will no longer be filled by someone who denies the true nature, the true power, of what we are. Someone who tiptoes around humans, instead of conquering them. Rising up and claiming this earth as superior beings. I will be leading our kind to their glory. And I won’t be made to appear weak by having my bride running off to the opposition,” Hadrian seethed, close enough to her face that his words pelted her upper lip. “I’ll only remind you one last time, if you attempt a foolish return to your lover, I’ll present him to you in pieces.”
Today, Tomorrow and Always Page 21
