Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “Do you think?”

  “I know.” He looked out the window, curling his fingers around his chin. “I’ll bet that’s why he left you those memories—with the blocks in place—so they’d come out one by one when he wanted you to see them.”

  “So I could empathize with him?”

  “Maybe.”

  I nodded, eyes tracing the white oak divide of each glass pane. “He showed me Arietta. I saw her face, heard her voice.”

  My fingers pulsed where David’s tightened around mine.

  “She was very beautiful,” I said.

  A distant smile rested on his lips. “And she loved Jason.”

  “More than you?”

  “Sometimes it felt that way.”

  “Maybe she was just making up for the love Jason never got from you—or from your father?”

  “He did love us, you know. He wasn’t all bad.”

  “He did?”

  “Mm.” He nodded, his lips pursed. “And that’s why it was so confusing. When we were babies, he fathered us the way he should. But, as the pain of losing my mother wore his soul down, he drank more, and his love became subjective to his sobriety.” The very depth of his tone sent a message into the air that he felt it—that he still carried so much of that confusion, even as a man.

  “That must have been hard: to be loved one minute, mistreated the next.”

  He turned and smiled. “It’s in the past.”

  “No”—I looked up at him—“it’s not. You still feel the pain. And I don’t know much about the way he treated you, only that he punished quite harshly—”

  “You saw some of those punishments?”

  “No. None. But Arthur told me how Jason got pneumonia.”

  David nodded, relaxing. “Father loved us, Ara, for what it’s worth. He just couldn’t cope in the end.”

  “Don’t make excuses for him, David. He mistreated you, and you spent your life hating Jason for that.”

  “My hatred for my brother was not because of the mistreatment,” he said. “It was because Father blamed me when Jason would step out of line.”

  “Beat you when Jason would step out of line,” I stated, not sure if I was right.

  His eyes narrowed, focusing on nothing. “Why would Arthur tell you that?”

  “He didn’t. You just did.”

  The stare broke away to a smile. “You and your assumptions.”

  “My correct assumptions,” I said, to which he added nothing. “You started your life alone, David.” I wrapped my arms around him again and felt each indent in his stomach, his ribs and the little place between his breastbones where I liked to rest my cheek. “But you’re not alone anymore. I’m here. I love you, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you like that ever again.”

  He nodded, absentmindedly stroking my hair. “Please don’t hate me for the things you learn while you’re here, Ara. I have changed since I met you.” He tilted my chin upward, regimented David back in place. “Everything you know of me now is who I really am. Don’t let my past destroy our future.”

  “It would take something pretty awful to get me to hate you.”

  He looked down then and placed a soft hand to my belly. “No luck?”

  “Nope. No baby. I had my period last week.”

  “Well, maybe one day.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I have to go now.”

  “Wait.” I grabbed his arm with both hands and held on tight. “You said you’d stay until I fell asleep.”

  “That was before we spent the last ten minutes talking, Ara.” He looked at his watch then sighed. “Fine. Another half hour, and that’s it. It’s very hard to sneak out of this place in the daylight.”

  “I’m sure you’ll manage.” I smirked.

  He reached out and placed his hand on the back of my neck, directing me to the bed like a naughty child at a nineteenth-century boarding school. “Maybe I should manage you better, then I wouldn’t find myself in so much trouble.”

  “I can think of one way you could manage me.” I landed on the bed with a soft bounce and smiled up at him suggestively.

  “By manage,” he said, landing on his knees between my legs, taking both my hands and pinning them gently beside my face, “I assume you mean make love.”

  I nodded, closing my eyes to the smell of his sweet breath touching my nose as he lowered himself, warm and solid, on top of me.

  “If I make love to you now, it’ll be noon before I leave this place.”

  “Ha! Yeah, right. It’s been two weeks since we had sex, David, it’ll probably only take three minutes.”

  The warmth of his laughter made my whole body tingle, and the way his fangs showed when he rolled his head back like that made me want to be under them, my blood spilling past his lips.

  His laughter ceased then, trickling away to a soft smile as he wrapped my arms around his neck and gently ran a hand up my thigh, lifting my nightdress. “Looks like I’ve got something to prove. I hope you don’t plan on walking for the rest of today.”

  I giggled, nuzzling in to the skin below his neck. “I don’t plan on walking for the rest of the year. So you can do whatever you want to me.”

  He pulled back a little and looked down at me. “You shouldn’t say things like that, my love. You sound sadistic.”

  “You know I’m only being playful.”

  “I don’t like that kind of playful, Ara.”

  “Okay then. Sorry.” I tucked my cheek into my shoulder, smiling sheepishly.

  “Know what I do like, though?”

  I shrugged.

  “You.” He slid his fingertips under my head and lifted it slightly, bringing my lips up to meet his, but stopped there and whispered, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world that I get to kiss you, hold you and love you, whenever I want.”

  “Not yet, you don’t,” I said, touching my lips to his once. “We can’t be free to love each other until we rid the world of all its evil. Until then, we have to take small moments of bliss.”

  “Small moments that last three minutes, ehy?” He laughed, sliding his hand into the front of my undies.

  * * *

  The sheet felt like a satin kiss across my almost-naked skin, tickling the length of my body as it came away and left me uncovered in the cool air. My eyes flicked open to an emerald-green gaze, foreground to another night sky.

  Somehow, I’d slept through all my responsibilities and stayed all day in the arms of this man I loved so much. “You stayed with me?” I squeaked in disbelief.

  But he shook his head. “No, sweet girl. I returned to you.”

  My eyes shrunk to take in his face, focusing on the shape of his eyes, the boyish gentility in his smile—the fact that he said ‘sweet girl’.

  “Jason?”

  “Perhaps.” He vanished, reappearing suddenly by the bed, his hand extended. My eyes flowed over the tips of his fingers, the creases in his palm, the chains of destiny around his wrist, and the clear veins in his arm all the way to his soft emerald eyes.

  “Are you real?”

  He nodded to his hand. “Touch.”

  My fingertips shook, traveling across space and time to fold into his, and it felt so real, so warm and so solid, like he was really there. He helped me to stand, and a tight pull permeated through my limbs, like I’d left something behind, something that fell from my soul.

  “Care to dance?”

  “I’m not dressed for a dance,” I said.

  He only smiled and looked at my underwear and bra, then smoothed his hand gently down my face; my eyes closed under his touch, and my lips parted as his fingers moved over them, cool against my warm breath.

  “Open your eyes, Ara.”

  Slowly, I looked down to a swirl of blue light rising up in soft smoky plumes around my legs, hips, then waist. “Is this a dream?” I whispered, feeling the tingle over my bare skin.

  Jason nodded toward my bed. I turned slightly and looked at the girl curled up under the white silk sheet, breathin
g deep, peaceful breaths—sound asleep, alone.

  “She—”

  “Shh.” He held his finger across his lip, smiling behind it. “Don’t wake her.”

  I smiled back at him. The blue light faded then, dissipating slowly and leaving behind the silky feel of fabric around my waist and over the tips of my toes, the color yellow shining up at me in the shape of a ball gown. “How did you do that?”

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “I love it.” I ran my fingers over the waist and onto the full skirt. “It’s my favorite color.”

  “I know.” Jason reached up and placed something cool and sweetly-scented beside my ear, tucking my hair back with it. “And this is my favorite blossom.”

  I drew a sharp intake of breath when I touched my fingers to the flower, feeling the cool petals of a rose—so solid and real, even its scent. Everything felt real, as if we were actually standing face to face, hip to hip, breath to breath, right now. But we weren’t, and I knew that. As sure as I could see myself sleeping right behind me, I knew this was just a dream, and it made my stomach sink as much as it made me excited.

  Alone here, in this dream, nothing mattered: not the way I felt for David; not the way I felt for Jason. I could do anything with him here, and it would have no consequence.

  I took his hand when he offered it, and noticed only then, as he led me into the now empty room across from my bed, that he was dressed in a tuxedo. He looked so human and so sweetly handsome I nearly laughed. I caught sight of our reflection in the mirror above the mantle of the fireplace—the only objects left in the room—and smiled, thinking we’d fit perfectly in a turn-of-the-century romance novel.

  We took step to a song I couldn’t hear, and Jason glided across the floor with the grace of an ancient vampire, leading me with a kind of gentility that felt like floating. I was never much of a ballroom dancer, but in his arms, I was flying. The feel of his hand against the small of my back consumed everything in my mind, and the song I couldn’t hear, the song he sung to me with his steps, rose up from the back of my mind, giving life to the room.

  Colors swirled around us, and masked strangers appeared, smiling, laughing, dancing just like Jason and me. But they turned in the opposite direction, making the movement of our steps feel like a cog in a clock—ticking, spinning, purposeful, but different.

  My bare feet felt each rise of the wooden floorboards, each grain of sand or brush of his shoes past my foot, and he kept me close, the grace and charm of his straight shoulders, his height, and the perfection of his eyes locking to mine, making me want to stay here forever. And it wasn’t a trick. Not this time. This time, I felt this way because I cared for him—because I wanted him to be here, to dance with me.

  In his eyes I could see so many thoughts, so many things he wanted to say. But he lost the chance. He took his own life, and my mind, as much as I knew his face, could never put words in his mouth that had never been said. And that was the saddest thing about this dream: that in the morning, the daylight would steal all that was perfect in the night.

  I heard the music loudly then, so I looked over at my sleeping body: she didn’t wake. She didn’t know what her heart was doing while she dreamed peacefully of her husband, whom she made love with only moments ago.

  “I wish you weren’t just a dream,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

  Jason held me closer, his fingers curling against mine. “What would you say to me—if I wasn’t a dream?”

  My eyelids fluttered as I rolled my face up to look at him. “Kiss me.”

  His brow pulled tight and we stopped dancing, the others in the room fading away like quivering shadows, leaving Jason and me alone. He slowly rolled me back in his arm, tipping me toward the ground; my hair swept the rug where it hung down, the blossom falling from its place and landing alone on the floor by our feet.

  I looked back up into the green magnificence of his eyes—all the love, the soul, the pain, the truth—everything he was and suffered and cared for shining out through that gaze, pulling me into his world, begging me to save him from it. And I wanted to. If I could go back. If I could go back and be his, I would.

  My jaw shook, my mouth open, crying out inside for his to touch mine. But he closed his eyes and brushed his lips along my jaw, letting his warm breath fall heavily into the curve of my neck.

  “Bite me,” I said, opening the longing of my skin to his teeth. “Bite me, and then make love to me.”

  His hand rose to my collarbones, but he clenched his fist above my flesh, hesitation stalling his desires.

  “Please, Jase?”

  Without looking away, Jase gave in and ran his fingers down my throat, between my breasts and over my stomach. I felt him, felt the touch against my bare skin, as if there was no dress there.

  “I have no right to you,” he whispered, his nose to mine.

  “And I have no right to want you,” I breathed, closing my eyes.

  When I opened them again, light filled the room and a shock of ice washed through me, leaving me half naked, covered only by silk and the scent of my husband. I sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to my blood-covered body, confused—so confused, and so, so alone.

  A cool breeze brought a faint hint of a rainy day, making me feel stony and out of place. I looked over at the rose on my nightstand, heart pounding in my throat, easing when I touched the thorn-less stem. Images of my dream flashed in my mind, forcing my eyes shut for each brush of his lips across my skin, holding my breath for each time I felt the desire to be in his arms.

  Then David’s face came to mind: the way he looked down at me as he slipped inside me; the way he smiled when he gave my body another chance to create life from his; the way he kissed my lips so softly, lingering for just a little longer than usual before he left me.

  And the scent of the rose became the memory jerker to my confusion. I rolled over and tucked my knees to my chest, folding the petals of the rose down one by one.

  By the time the smell of pancakes came wafting in with the morning heat, there were no petals left on the flower. I wiped a stream of tears from my cheek and climbed out of bed. I needed to talk to someone. I needed to sort this out in my head, but I couldn’t do that alone. I just needed someone who understood that I loved David, but that I’d always dream of his brother.

  6

  I had to stop and ask several people for directions to the entrance to Lilith’s garden. Everyone seemed to know exactly where the garden was, but not really how to get in.

  I’d seen the wall that bordered it from my balcony but could never see inside, because the gardens were hidden under the pinks of cherry blooms and the greens of leafy trees. I knew there was definitely a garden behind this wall, but just couldn’t find the damn door. So now I’d taken to feeling around it, lifting vines and shrubberies every foot-or-so in search of a way in.

  “You need the key.” Arthur materialized beside me.

  I pulled my hand down from the small stones of the wall and looked up at him. We were shaded from the sun here, the shadows making the day cool, but Arthur looked a little hot, his collar moist, hair sticky at his brow.

  “What have you been up to?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He wiped a hand across his face, blotting away the sweat.

  I decided to let that lie go. “So, I need a key?”

  “Yes.” He took my elbow and led me along the wall to a section hidden just inside the Forest of Enchantment.

  “Should we be in here?”

  “Yes, my dear, it is the only entrance to Lilith’s Garden.”

  “Oh. Right.” I looked around at the trees, certain they were looking back. “So how do you know? Have you been there before?”

  “Not since it was finished.”

  “Finished?”

  “Mm.” He nodded, brushing aside a thick mass of vines growing over the wall from inside the garden. “I helped Drake plant many of the trees.”

  “Wow.”

  He smiled the
n bent down, standing again with an iron key in hand. Like magic! “Your key.”

  “Where was that?” I looked on in awe as he hid the wall behind the vine again.

  “There’s a nook beneath these vines. The key has been there, in plain sight, for hundreds of years.”

  I held the key up to the small column of light shining in through the tops of the trees. “Where’s the door?”

  He laughed, stepped back a little, then cast a straight arm further down the wall, much deeper into the eerie forest.

  I gulped. “Will you walk me to it?”

  “I will,” Morgaine said, popping up out of nowhere and linking arms with me. “After all, I have a private invitation.”

  Arthur bowed his head, then turned and started in the direction we came.

  “You ready to see your garden, Majesty?” Morgaine practically hugged my arm.

  “Yes. Very ready.” I didn’t even need to tell my feet to move. “So, what’s up with Arthur today?”

  “What do you mean?” She looked over her shoulder to where he’d walked away.

  “He was… less than presentable. That’s not like him.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he’s just not coping with being here.”

  “Here? At the manor?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Arietta.”

  “Oh. Right. He did mention that.”

  She nodded. “He’ll be okay. He’s just grieving.”

  “Still?”

  She scoffed. “Vampires feel things eternally, Ara. He’ll never move on from her. Well, maybe if he finds another to love.”

  “That’s really sad.” I glanced over my shoulder, wishing I could go give him a hug, but we came upon a big set of arched doors then, with iron hinges and a slot just the right size for my new key.

  “Care to do the honors?” Morgaine offered, letting go of my arm to present the door.

  I slipped the key in the lock and, using two hands, turned it stiffly to the right, then the left and to the right again. But nothing happened.