by L. T. Kelly
Bartholomew shrugged nonchalantly. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the pain inflicted by his offhand movement.
“As I have explained on a plethora of occasions, you were invited to come to live at Assembly headquarters, yet you denied me.” He towered over me as he spoke, but I refused to acknowledge him. My body remained tense with a rage that can only be born of an irrefutable passion for someone who is noncompliant with your need for them to display their love and commitment wholly. Living with him at the headquarters would have only encouraged more loyalty and time to The Assembly than me.
“I must leave now. I’ll be back in time for the wedding.”
“If there’s a fucking wedding to come back to,” I muttered as he left, knowing full well that he had heard every single word I said.
Two
Total Eclipse of the Heart
“Are you sure going out is a good idea, Teagan?” Pearl asked gently, her blonde head tipped to one side.
“I want to go.” I jutted my chin toward her. Undoubtedly, Pearl referred to the fact Bartholomew detested me drinking, especially when he wasn’t around. I had a habit of losing control of both my movements and emotions. Not just me, but vampires in general. But like humans, some vampires handled alcohol better than others. I figured she’d take Bartholomew’s side, with him being her boss. That said, I invested a lot of time into my friendship with Pearl and considered us to be close, especially since Alex and my connection diluted, initially when he discovered Rose to be his maker and further when he started dating Ryan.
“She should go out,” Alex piped up.
I hadn’t looked at or spoken to Alex since I’d traipsed back upstairs to my old bedroom to find the three of them exchanging glances. I could barely meet Pearl’s and Ryan’s eyes, either, because each time I did, notes of pity in their expressions forced my gaze elsewhere.
“I understand. I’m going to head home, but I’ll stop by tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
I winced at her benignant attitude, but nodded. I refused to take Bartholomew’s choices out on Pearl, who’d done nothing except be there for me, no matter my mood or circumstance. Pearl reached the door, about to slip away quietly and without fuss.
“Pearl, thank you. I’m sorry.” I said sorry for a visceral notion, but wanted to say it all the same.
“Oh, there’s no need.” She batted my apology away with a wave of her hand. “I wish you all a wonderful evening.” She flashed me a smile and left.
“Well, are we going out or what?” I asked, taking in Alex’s and Ryan’s solemn expressions, knowing we’d rather gouge our own eyes out with a rusty spoon than go out on the premise of enjoying ourselves.
“Oh, fuck it.” Ryan jumped up and sashayed to the door, with his usual swagger. I followed with something resembling a smile, self-assured Alex would soon follow behind us.
Out on the street, Ryan hooked his arm through mine. “I just can’t fuckin’ believe him. He knows how much work I put in. Six bloody months to create that dress. Why does he ‘ave to be such a twat?”
I laughed and swiftly steered the conversation in another direction. “You two are perfect for each other, you know that?”
Ryan pursed his lips. I didn’t see the point of those two drastically falling out over a bloody wedding dress.
“It was obvious from the moment I first saw you with him. I mean, it wasn’t a great moment for me, of course, and even though it took years for the two of you to get together, I foresaw you would.”
“Really?” Ryan almost stopped walking as he whipped his head around to study my face.
“Sure.” I told the truth. When I first met Ryan in Marc Romano’s bar on my first night in London, the similarities between Alex and him were startling. When I’d taken Alex there in a sneaky bid to see Marc again, the pair spent the night together.
Alex and I left to travel Europe, then we headed back to America, but by all accounts, Ryan lost his heart to Alex that night and sought him out for a solid eight years. Eventually, he found him, and they hung out with each other. I recalled the smitten expression on Alex’s face when he talked about them reuniting, how nobody had ever put in such time and devotion to searching him out, and how he couldn’t be happier he’d met Ryan again.
Every fibre of my being wanted to suggest Alex tell Ryan what he was and invite him into our world, but being the girlfriend of the head of The Assembly put me in an awkward position when it came to suggesting breaking the laws. I mean, vampires are meant to be takers of human life, not going about offering the undead life to all on a whim. Historically, Alex and I were in major trouble with The Assembly, and I sure as shit didn’t want to be in that position again.
Once their union progressed into full bloom, through his own volition, Alex gave Ryan a venturesome choice, so they could spend eternity together. However, it could have gone horribly wrong, and considering Alex’s reaction to my own law-breaking, a law I hadn’t been aware existed, it was a bit of a damn cheek.
Ryan clasped the hand I’d hooked around his arm and shot me a wide-eyed stare. “Do ‘ya ever miss ‘im?”
I took a deep breath as we traipsed through Hyde Park, near to the area where I’d first smelled Marc Romano’s delectable fragrance, and pondered if I’d have changed anything with the knowledge I possessed now. No, I wouldn’t. I would have never learned it doesn’t matter how much you want someone, sometimes it’s not always right. Could that be true of Bartholomew and me? Would marrying him be a mistake? Did I truly believe that him going out on a limb and offering to make an honest woman of me would validate our relationship?
Ryan’s eyes bored into me, awaiting my response. I swallowed hard, looking away from him. “Of course, I’ll never admit it to anyone else, but what Marc and I shared could only be described as magical. It can’t be replicated.”
Ryan giggled like a little girl. I grinned, despite the weight of the conversation. It was difficult not to smile when such a tall, well-built guy giggled the way Ryan did.
“Shall we go there?” he whispered conspiratorially.
“Go where?”
“The bar.”
My brow quirked. “You mean to tell me that place is still a bar?”
Marc had been killed when the head of The American Assembly lost his shit over the association of a vampire with a werewolf, threatening to eradicate the werewolf species. Marc’s death had been in vain. He’d vanished and married another woman behind my back.
Gabriella sold everything, including the bars and bistros he owned to fund having to raise their daughter alone.
Ryan nodded eagerly before wrinkling his nose. “Some bloody cheapskate bought it. I reckon the fucking furniture is still the same, mate.”
“Oh, what a shame, but it would be a blast from the past. Let’s do it.”
Ryan and I slipped into the bar. He was right. The place hadn’t changed a bit, having the same lime green-and-black colour scheme and illuminated counter as eighteen years ago, albeit somewhat shabbier than in its heyday.
Ryan cocked his head. “Wine?”
I nodded my response, unable to stop a gush of memories invading my thoughts. The last time I’d been in the bar had been an altogether unpleasant experience. Marc had shown up with Gabriella on his arm, an obligation cemented at both of their births with them being the firstborn male and female werewolves of the pack. He insisted he didn’t want her romantically, describing their bond like a brother and sister.
Rose appeared with Alex. They sat in the corner together, having apparently ordered their drinks by telling Ryan what they wanted from their seats. I took a sip of wine, glaring at Alex.
“I know you love Pearl more than me,” Alex started as soon as I reached the table.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve got to be shitting me? You’ve turned into a nasty bastard ever since Bartholomew asked me to marry him, and I can’t begin to contemplate why?” My voice came out like a whine.
“You know I’ve always detested the m
an. You could have done so much better.”
I grit my teeth, clutching the stem of my glass harder, willing myself not to smash it over his head and cause a scene. “So you’re insinuating I shouldn’t be with someone you disapprove of?” I sat back hard in the faded, lime green chair and huffed loudly, completely at a loss as to where he figured himself in the hierarchy of my life.
Alex leaned forward, his arms resting on the sticky table. “You’d do well to remember Bartholomew–” The way Alex spoke Bartholomew’s name sounded as though he had something revolting in his mouth, “–emmeshed you in his bed days after his lover of hundreds of years took her final breath.”
I flinched. Thomas’s wife Victoria was turned by Bartholomew when they became lovers. Cruelly, Victoria turned Thomas, believing her actions to be a gift to him before she absconded with Bartholomew. From what I understood, Thomas spent periods of time with the both of them before I had come along, which couldn’t have been easy for him.
My own interaction with Victoria hadn’t exactly been amenable. To say she fucking hated me would be the understatement of the century. The feeling was mutual.
Alex tutted and sat back in his own chair, his eyes flashing wildly. I glanced at Rose and Ryan, awaiting their defence. It never came. I’d have to defend myself.
“You want to talk about betrayal, do you?” I kept my voice low, my eyes narrowed to slits, darting from Alex to Rose, who shifted in her seat like she had ants in her panties.
“Let’s discuss when you both fucked off and left me in New York to fend for myself.”
Ha! Now all of their eyes appeared to be inspecting the grime-streaked floor.
Alex and Rose apologised profusely for their actions at the time, but it had been something that remained lodged firmly in my throat for many years. That’s perhaps why Alex chose tonight to inform me he’d picked up on Pearl and I spending increasing amounts of time together. To try to make me feel bad. If he decided to lay his cards out, then I couldn’t see the point of holding back with my factual accounts of the situations contributing to the damage done to our friendship.
I stilled, my rage dissipating as I dragged in air through my nostrils like a cocaine addict snorts up the white stuff. Delicious perfume overpowered the previously lingering stench of stale beer. Rose released a gasp, my brows knitted with confusion until a voice came from behind me.
“Well, you lot seem like you’re having fun,” Geo said sardonically.
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Rose’s horror was attributed to the fact I basically checked out her werewolf husband, or at least his breath-taking aroma. I did it without realising. Werewolves smell so divine. Geo radiated his addictive essence like someone wafting your favourite perfume at you all day. The fact I openly enjoyed Geo’s scent was made all the more mortifying because I had sexual relations with Geo in New York prior to Marc’s arrival and confession he’d married Gabriella.
I shot Rose a tight-lipped smile, my eyes crinkling in the corners by way of a silent apology. Rose may not have been my favourite person, but I wouldn’t hit on her husband. Totally not my style.
Geo dragged a chair over, positioning it between Rose and me. Ryan leaped off his seat, offering to fetch Geo a drink, clearly as an excuse to remove himself from the thick darkness hanging over the table.
“What’s going on?”
We all exchanged grim glances. “Alex was telling me I shouldn’t marry Bartholomew because he betrayed Victoria’s memory, and I had just finished helpfully reminding him and your wife how they betrayed me, seeing as we were on the subject.” I spoke in a sing-song voice, a sarcastic smile planted across my mouth.
“Oh, lovely.” Geo sighed.
I inspected his side profile – the salt-and-pepper streaks in his raven hair, lines creasing his once smooth, olive skin. Geo seemed like he’d aged before my eyes. I realised it had been at least five years since I’d last seen him. When you’d been around for almost one hundred seventy years like I had, years appeared to slip by without much note.
“Anyway, how have you been? Long time no see.” I inflected some cheer into my voice, pleased to see him.
Geo sighed again, slouching in his chair and tugging at the tie that had been neatly against his throat. “So-so.” He accepted the drink from Ryan’s outstretched hand, thanking him with a nod.
I glanced at Rose, furrowing my brow, but she avoided looking back at me. I stared at her a little longer, trying to work out if she refused to meet my eye because of the harsh reminder I directed at her or because I thoroughly and obviously enjoyed the scent of her husband.
“How’s Grace?”
“I dunno. She went off to uni months ago now, and Gabriella is having trouble getting hold of her.”
“Getting hold of her? Or encouraging her to engage in conversation?” I pushed.
“Gabriella reckons she’s fallen in with some bad types.” Geo shook his head, biting his lip. “I hope not. She’s a bright girl. The last thing any of us needs is for her to fuck up her life.”
I inserted the missing “too” from the end of his sentence. The word wasn’t there, but his expression implied it.
I swallowed hard. I sincerely hoped not, too. Gabriella and I used to hate each other. Over the years it had petered out to a mild dislike and remained there ever since. Gabriella had given birth to Grace and hit a diabolical stumbling block within the first month. Gabriella had to go off and turn at the full moon. Only problem being so did every friend and family member she had. Dark, dank woods were hardly a place for a baby. Admittedly, I almost choked when she’d called me and barked, “Come and look after the baby.” I guessed her instincts told her I wouldn’t harm Marc’s child. I actually wouldn’t harm any child.
Grace was a beautiful baby. Thick, downy, ebony curls adorning her head. Her round, dark pink lips blew raspberries, as her chocolate brown eyes danced with sheer delight. The redolence of her intermingled with baby powder and milk ought to have been bottled. It had been an honour to watch her grow into a delightful, happy child.
When Grace turned five, Gabriella categorically informed me she had reached an acceptable age to sit in the woods and wait. She needed to know what would happen to her and familiarise herself, almost like a desensitisation. I argued, begged her not to do it, terrified Grace would be endangered, spending nights cold, alone and hungry in the woods. The image haunted me for years afterward, but I failed at talking Gabriella around. I think she realised how attached I’d become to her daughter, as well as detesting the reliance she had on me. I hadn’t seen either of them since.
“I can imagine Gabriella is beside herself,” I mused, almost to myself more than anyone else.
“Yeah, I am, too. Grace won’t speak to me, either.”
Geo moved back to London from New York shortly after Marc had been killed. His parents and he finally managed to put their differences to rest, though from what I gathered, the Romano’s never accepted Rose entirely.
“You’re close to Grace?”
Geo nodded. “I saw her all the time. She took it hard when my parents died. Grace struggled when she started to turn a few years ago. She’d be in floods of tears when she came out of wolf form. It was very painful for her. She rejected her mother’s comfort and turned to me.”
“Good old Uncle Geo,” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but it appeared to have the opposite effect.
I downed the remainder of my red wine. “Okay, I need to feed, then I’m going home.”
The rest of the table made to get up, as though they all had been waiting for an excuse to leave. Had it been the bar with too many memories haunting the majority of us, or had it been the company?
Three
Love on the Rocks
I strode along the sidewalk, blanking Alex’s presence. Rage continued to bubble in the pit of my stomach.
“Please, Teagan. Hear me out.”
I ignored his plea, too busy searching for a meal. I was famished, and my body
practically groaned with hunger. We passed a young woman, her eyes flitting erratically up and down the street. London wasn’t a place a woman walked around alone at night. I stepped in front of her, my head bowed and a frown marring my forehead. A look I hoped screamed, I can tell you need help. Let me help you.
Alex’s brows knitted together because I didn’t take blood from women of childbearing age in case they had children to tend to at home. Any blood loss would wear them out. From my own experiences, raising kids was exhausting enough without any added complications.
“Are you all right?” I asked her, my hand on her shoulder. “You seem a little lost.”
Her eyes widened momentarily, before her hunched shoulders relaxed. Her bottom lip wobbled, as though the relief of having someone to talk to wiped away the fear and replaced it haphazardly with grief.
“I’ve been out on a blind date, and the bastard tried to touch me up.”
“Oh.” I lifted my head, my eyes darting around the vicinity. “What does he look like? Can you see him?” I asked. Alex joined me in scanning the street.
She shook her head. “I think he’s gone.” Her tense body exposed her fear.
I spotted a black cab, its light illuminated, indicating vacancy. I waved my arm until it stopped beside us.
“I live miles away. I can’t afford that.” The woman’s voice croaked, followed by a sob. In all fairness to her, black cabs were extortionate.
“Don’t sweat it. I’ll pay. I just want to know you’re safe.” I reached into the pocket of my dress and pulled out two twenties and a ten, stuffing it into her hand. “Will this get you home?”
She peered at the money in her hand, tears cascading down her face and dripping on the notes.
“'Urry up. I ain’t got all night, ya’ know.” The cabbie shouted impatiently from the driver’s seat. I shot him an expression of pure distain, and he popped his mouth shut.
“Thank you. Yes, thank you,” the woman stuttered in disbelief.
I patted her shoulder and nodded toward the cab, urging her to get in before the impatient driver drove away without her. She scrambled inside, pressing her palm to the window, inspecting me with big eyes as the car pulled off.
