by L. T. Kelly
Freya offered me a sad smile. “No. I’ll never remove it, and when the time comes, I’ll allow my soul to escape to the other place.” She unfastened the clasp of the chain and worked the amulet free of the cat’s collar, taking a sharp intake of breath as it fell free. Freya quickly threaded the amulet on the chain and threw it around her neck, as though being a vampire even for a split-second would destroy her humanity. It didn’t. There was no sign of her being undead, and with the amulet against her body, she was Freya, the witch, once more.
At least she was a woman with a plan, which was more than I could say for myself. Her hand suddenly stretched out and grasped mine. Tears worked down her cheeks from glossy eyes, whilst her other hand rested on her flat belly.
“And, don’t worry. I know. I’m also certain conception will reoccur. It is my destiny.”
Thank goodness I didn’t have to tell her she lost the baby, as well. I released a heavy sigh and squeezed her hand. “After everything you went through, you got your shit together.” My lips pressed into a thin smile. “Not like me.”
Freya squeezed my hand in return. “I’m not defending his actions, but please, Teagan. Listen to me when I bring into your mind it’s entirely possible Bartholomew isn’t the same man who went away weeks ago. We both know him well, and he’s nothing if not a control freak. I need you to consider his complete loss of control for all that time may have caused an adverse effect. Another truth is we take our grief and anxieties out on the ones closest to us. They’re the ones we trust to handle us best in our time of need.”
My teeth clenched and batted away the hope I should’ve derived from her words of reason. I didn’t want to grant myself optimism for my tattered relationship.
“Will you be okay?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
I stood, dipped to press my lips to her forehead and left the room.
*****
Geo and Alex travelled straight back to London with Rose’s remains, not wishing to return to Ancrum. Not only was I left to tell Freya of her predicament, I had Ryan to deal with, too. Ryan hardly spoke a word on the way back. His knee bounced, and I figured he was busy considering how best to support his lover and maker, fearing what state he would find him upon his arrival. I shared his concerns.
The pair of us filled bottles of our blood and donated them to the Malapropos to keep them well as they returned to their shitty little cave. My intention to take both men back to London when we left Ancrum was put on hold. I was glad I had not told them or made any promises. Ashamedly, the reason I backed down from my original plan was because I feared Bartholomew’s arrival back in London to find I betrayed his orders and may have very well ended up in the cave with them. I planned to play the men’s rescue very carefully, but whatever happened, I refused to allow them both to continue to live in the cave until the time came when they decided they no longer wished to live.
Eventually, we rolled to a stop outside of Ryan’s apartment block. He exited the vehicle in a flash, leaving me sitting with a glum expression. The driver pulled away to take me back to my own lonely residence. At least there would be little to deal with in an empty dwelling. The idea of stepping into nothingness consumed me. I couldn’t do it. I leaned forward and gave the driver a different address, knowing it wasn’t a great idea but doing it regardless.
*****
“What are you doing here?” His usual olive-coloured skin paled beneath the porch light.
“I came to see if you’re okay.” His cool greeting stung, but how could I blame a man who just lost his wife and been subjected to God only knew what at the hands of Catherine? We looked so alike. Even looking at my face must have caused at least a wince.
He walked away from the door, leaving it open for me to enter. The place stank of stale beer and pizza. I followed him into the living room, my nose wrinkled. It wasn’t hard to establish where the smell originated from. The room was littered with empty beer cans, empty whiskey bottles and greasy, half-eaten pizzas. I swept a few empty cans from the seat beside him and perched on the edge of the sofa. He stared at the blank TV screen as I waited for him to speak.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he snapped, still not looking at me.
“Do you? That’s clever, because I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“You’re going to say Rose wouldn’t want you to live this way. Rose wouldn’t want you to rot alone in this house, blah blah blah.” He made a poor effort of imitating me, which would make me laugh if not for the circumstances.
I tilted my head in consideration of what he told me. “Hmm… Maybe. Maybe not.”
His head whipped around to look into my eyes. “Where is her body?”
“Alex took her to The Assembly.” Pearl had sent a message to let me know. “I know some people. I could pull some strings and arrange a funeral for her, if you want.”
“You would do that? Alex said you hated her, blamed her for everything that happened.”
Alex would say that. He had a habit of holding on to everything without easily letting it go. But I also knew Alex would be in too much pain and reaching for the self-destruct button. I guessed he wouldn’t have the strength to arrange anything. Geo clearly already hit the button before Rose passed, judging by the state of his home. Also, vampires and werewolves weren’t in cahoots enough for a werewolf to arrange what would be required to give Rose a decent sendoff.
“I’d call that bullshit. Sure, we had our differences. That has always been the case. If I were to be completely honest with you, I’d say I was jealous of her, which kept our friendship from evolving past the acquaintance stage.” I sighed heavily. “I did try, though.”
“Jealous of Rose?” he echoed, his rich, chocolate eyes boring into me.
I nodded, my lips pressed together. “Everyone loved her, you know.”
His eyes filled up until he buried his head in his hands. His shoulders shook with the tears he fought to hold back.
Fuck, I said the wrong thing.
“Hey…” I scooted closer to him, holding him in my arms. The heat radiating from him soothed me more than I figured my embrace reassured him. His hot tears blobbed on the shoulder of my shirt as I smoothed my hand up and down the rippled muscles of his back. It felt like forever since I had held someone or been held. I hadn’t given enough credence to my own pain, suffering and longing for touch.
He drew his head back, inspecting what I knew was a pained look upon my face. “I saw how he treated you, Teagan,” he breathed, his eyes flitting from my eyes to my mouth. My clit lurched eagerly out of muscle memory. “You can’t marry him,” Geo groaned before his mouth crashed to mine. He’d comforted me before, bringing wholeness back into my life when I couldn’t find Marc. I could never forget the way he made me come, the way his solid cock filled me and how my body reacted to his.
I jerked backward and found myself standing across the room, my breathing heavy. “I’m sorry…”
Tears spilled over Geo’s cheeks. “No, it’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“All this would be wrong. You’re grieving, and I guess in a way, so am I. Bartholomew may not be dead, but our life together has died. We’ve travelled this path before, and whilst our friendship recovered unscathed, I don’t want to take the risk.” I shifted uncomfortably, unable to find the correct way to stand in this desperately awkward situation. “I care about you, Geo, and I want to be there for you. That can’t happen if lines are crossed.”
He nodded, his mouth downturned. I could tell he knew I was right.
“I need to go now. I’ll make the arrangements and call you with the details, okay?”
“Thank you.” He scrambled to show me out, but I waved a hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary.
In truth, my offer to make the arrangements for Rose’s funeral was utterly selfish. I had to keep going. I couldn’t allow myself time to think about my tattered life. Whatever it took to keep Bartholomew and the way he treated me firmly i
n the back of my mind was what I would do.
Twenty Four
Better Together
Alex kept his head bowed as we stood on opposite sides of the grave. Gabriella and Grace flanked Geo, both clutching one of his hands. Ryan afforded Alex the same comfort. Alex would come around soon enough and recall Rose and I had made our peace before her swift exit from the world. I understood he needed someone to vent his anger and frustration at, and rightly or wrongly, that person had been me.
The vampire-sympathising priest threw dirt onto the mahogany coffin containing Rose’s remains, muttering, “Ashes to ashes…”
I didn’t listen to the remainder of his mantra, my breath clutching in my throat when I noticed a figure looming in the distance beside a tree, like a movie cliché. I would never fail to recognise his swagger, coupled with his white-blond hair. Even with the distance between us, an electrical connection flowed. He caught my gaze and held it, his lips twitching. I looked away. Tonight was to say goodbye to Rose, and I couldn’t face saying goodbye to him at the same time.
The mourners peeled away. Usually, celebrations of life were held at The Assembly headquarters, but with a number of the congregation being werewolves, I figured that wouldn’t be permitted and organised a function room at a small boutique hotel owned by a vampire instead. Not that I would be seeing the fruits of my labour since Bartholomew would be sure to attend.
I grabbed Grace’s arm. “Babe, I don’t feel well, so I’m going to head home.”
Grace narrowed her eyes on me. “Teagan, you do know I’m aware you’re a vampire, don’t you? You don’t get ill.” She crossed her arms over her chest, releasing a huff. “This isn’t anything to do with Bartholomew skulking around over there, is it?”
I bumped my lips together and tugged her along with the crowd heading toward the parking lot. “For once in your life, stop being so smart.”
Grace sighed. “Okay, I’ll keep my mouth closed. Off you go. I’ll cover for you.”
*****
I got home and headed to my fail-safe stress reliever. Wine. I grabbed a bottle and glass from the kitchen and headed upstairs to the drawing room, kicking off my heels and lighting the fire. I finished downing the first glass when I squeezed my eyes closed at the sound of the front door clicking shut. He’d kept his key. Of course he had. My body hollowed. I couldn’t deal with Bartholomew’s final rejection today.
He sauntered into view, and I turned my head to watch the flames lick the black coal in the fireplace. He perched on the seat opposite.
“I’m sorry.”
The words acted like a red flag to a bull. “Sorry for what exactly? There are so many things you should be sorry for.” I gulped in a breath as I leaned forward, cradling my glass between two hands and leaning on my thighs in an attempt to still the quaking of my fingertips.
He had the cheek to sigh and look away from my avid stare.
“Sorry that you fucked off and left me before our wedding? Or maybe that you completely missed the vast majority of your past out of our long conversations? Sorry you’ve been sleeping around this entire time and making a fucking fool out of me?”
His head whipped back. “How could you say that? I never laid a finger on another woman since the day you took me to your bed,” he grit, his lips pulled back over his teeth and eyes so wide I made out the whites the entire way around his irises. “Why is it that I cannot impress on you how much I adore you? How is it everyone can see I love you entirely, except for you?”
“What about the threats you made to my mother? Threats on my fucking life?”
“What?” His face bunched up with clear confusion.
“Catherine showed me.” My words quivered.
“I swear, I never threatened you. Your mother swore to look after the amulet, but she asked me to keep you safe as part of the deal.”
“Well, you did a fine fucking job, didn’t you?” I threw at him, immediately regretting my venomous retort.
His shoulders sagged and he cradled his head in his hands. “It would have never happened if I’d stayed. I left Dublin a day too soon. One blasted day. Thomas lost you. He was not familiar enough with your scent. When I learned of your turning, I was devastated. The deal with your mother changed. I made sure your family was financially sound and swore to her you’d live a fulfilled and safe life.
“Thomas had no other choice than to take you to Montana, out of the way. I issued those orders. Everything I ever did was for you. Even keeping away from you was for your benefit. With Victoria, I acted too soon at beginning a relationship with her. With you, I felt things I would never imagine. I still do.”
I huffed loudly, sick to death of his lies.
“I’m not lying,” he said as though he knew my thoughts.
Before I was able to protest, he kneeled in front of me, his palms cradling my face to ensure my eyes met his. “Things have been wrong. What happened in Dublin was abhorrent. I don’t just mean what Catherine did to me, but the way I treated you.”
He released my face, his body sagging and trembling. I couldn’t see in the man before me the same one who had walked out of the room and left me two weeks before our wedding. He hadn’t returned. I slipped from the chair to the floor, placing my glass beside me. My heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. Bartholomew was broken.
“There isn’t anyone on this planet, not witch, wolf or other of our kind I’m able to confide in. Not Freya. Not Bruno. Not Charmion. Only you.” His voice croaked at the end of the sentence. “Goddamn it.” He slammed his fist into the carpet, the floorboard creaking beneath his hand. “I’m a mess. How can I admit it to anyone else? Catherine broke my mind and, in doing so, broke me.”
His breath quickened as I moved slowly, afraid to catch him off guard and took him into my arms. “I’ll fix you,” I whispered. “In the same way you fixed me.”
“I will not make it without you, Teagan. Anything you want or need is yours.”
I smiled into his hair. I had a few requests, but they weren’t up for discussion on this night, so I remained silent and stroked his hair. “Come on. Lie with me,” I said. The look of fear in his eyes made me want to vomit. “Not like that.” I shook my head. My chest ached as I had to push away lurid images of what he may have been forced to do under Catherine’s command.
I stood, feigning a light expression, and tugged at his hand. He rose from the floor, towering above me, his lips twitched, and he looked away from me again.
“What’s up?”
“There’s something else I need to tell you. I’m begging you, please don’t be cross with me,” he garbled.
My shoulders hunched. The expression on his face informed me, whatever he had to say, I was not going to like.
“Tell me,” I commanded with grit. Something scuffling in the lobby below alerted me to a presence, proceeded with a long, distressed meow. “You didn’t…,” I breathed.
“I didn’t know what to do with him, and he really grew on me.” He shrugged.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Barty,” I huffed and flashed downstairs to the cat carrier containing Catherine’s black beast, releasing the thing into my hallway.
The feline leaped onto my lap and rubbed his face on mine. Bartholomew was quickly at my side.
“Maybe he thinks I’m her?” I murmured, not wanting to admit how much I enjoyed the sensation of his velvet fur against my cheek.
“No. He was this way with me, too. I considered dropping him off at a cat sanctuary, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t do it.”
I raised my fingers to the top of the cat’s head and fussed him, his purr vibrating through my fingers. “Best we get you some food, hey, Henry?”
“Henry?”
“Yes. It was on a tag on the collar with the amulet. I still have it in a pocket somewhere.”
“Hmm… It suits him,” Bartholomew said, handing me a pouch of cat food from a bag that had been beside the cat carrier.
I whooshed downstairs to the
basement kitchen and fetched a dish, emptying the contents of the pouch into it and placing it on the hallway floor. “Enjoy,” I told the cat as he happily tucked into the food.
I turned my attention back to Bartholomew. “Come with me, please.”
He followed me to our bedroom, and we lay on the covers, fully clothed, his body nestled comfortably against mine, solid and strong, although right then, I was certain he didn’t think so in his own mind.
The flat of my hand stroked down his hair.
“I didn’t want to touch those men or women. I need you to believe me.”
I inhaled sharply. Things were worse than I thought. Bartholomew had to be the most masculine and heterosexual man I’d ever met.
“I am so ashamed all those people were handed the opportunity to defile me. People I banished and punished in the past. People resigned to the fate of living amongst the world of scum in which Catherine had made herself the queen of and her mother and father before her.”
I squeezed him. “Nothing that happened there can make me love you any less than I did before.”
“I don’t know how I can return to my work. How anyone can respect me.”
“Hey, I won’t put up with you saying that. You managed to command respect for many years. You think people paying money to do dreadful things to you, especially when you were unwilling, could earn the respect of others? That’s ludicrous.” I pulled his head to my chest. “The only way you can force your way through how you feel is to get life back to normal, the way it was before any of this happened.”
“Do you still want to marry me?” he asked flatly.
I sighed, trying to figure out a way I could say that I didn’t without him believing my change of heart had everything to do with me and fuck all to do with him. “I do want to marry you…,” I told him. I couldn’t hurt the man I loved, and I was being honest. I wanted nothing more than to marry Bartholomew, pledge my love for him publicly. Eventually, once I worked through my own issues of mistrust.
