She never would have complained or lamented the loss either. Yet seeing how much she loved her children, how much they obviously loved her, it would have been cruel of him to offer her his nights and deny her motherhood.
Staring at the beautiful image, seeing Ferris in her children, he also started seeing Apollo. His gut clenched as he saw his father in the delicate arch of their blond eyebrows, the arrogant lines of their jaws. Why did it have to be Apollo?
Tearing his gaze away from the image, his eyes landed on a portrait of the three gargoyles: Raphe, Leo and Michael. The three were obviously trying to look bad ass but were failing miserably because they couldn’t keep the amusement from flashing in their eyes. He could almost hear the three of them joking with her as she painted, the memory of laughter that taunted him just beyond his hearing. She managed to capture the essence of their gargoyle forms in their human faces, from Leo’s massive liger to Michael’s proud white lion to Raphe’s sleek, black panther.
There was love in this painting as well.
Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he moved onto the next image and almost forgot how to breathe. His heart beat erratically and painfully in his chest as his eyes moved over the lines of Ferris’s pregnant belly to the swell of her breast beneath the gauzy, white material. A soft smile curved her lips as she closed her eyes in prayer. But it was the other person in the painting that made him die a little: Apollo.
The man had golden hair and an altered face but Armand recognized his father. Ferris wasn’t able to hide the light that emanated from the man, a light that almost hurt the eyes even if it wasn’t tangible. It was his aura that she had captured, the essence of a god.
Her hand rested on Apollo’s head in benediction as he kissed her stomach, his eyes burning with love as he looked at Ferris.
A humorless chuckle pushed past his raw throat. Only Ferris could make a god fall in love with her. And Apollo was able to give her the children she had never even known she wanted when she was making all of her promises to Armand.
Armand took a shuddering breath, understanding how Ferris could have fallen in love with the man who gave her the chance to be a mother. He could take some comfort in the fact that his father genuinely had feelings for Ferris and her love wasn’t unrequited. And Ferris being the wonderful, generous, sensual being that she was… of course they would have sex.
How long did their affair last? Did she love him still? Was the affair even over? After all, they had two children together and Apollo was quite protective of those who gave birth to his children. With effort, he put the questions behind him. If he let them, they would destroy him and he loved Ferris too much, even if she no longer loved him.
A chill went down his spine as he realized what he wasn’t seeing: paintings of him. Moving over to the nearest stack of canvases, he started flipping through them, seeing paintings of his brothers and their mates and their children, paintings of the imp Ajreis, paintings of the various creatures that inhabited the castle, from Toulia the succubus to Pix the sprite to Dizzy the dog. Dizzy, who was no longer there. The loyal little dog passed shortly after he turned to stone, her little heart broken, and he hadn't been there for either Ferris or Dizzy. Yet another way he had failed Ferris.
Faster and faster he blasted through the paintings and not once did he see an image of himself staring back. The pain that knifed through his chest was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was worse than losing Vaughn when Melanie didn’t show up, worse than the moment Katrina turned her back on him, worse than the betrayal of Ferris fucking his father. She had told him she loved him and yet there were no paintings of him in her studio.
The notion that perhaps she kept them in another place evaporated the moment the door opened and all rational thought disappeared from his brain. She stood there looking impossibly beautiful in a pair of blue jeans and a plain t-shirt. The wounded beast inside of him wanted her to suffer the way it suffered, it wanted her to howl in agony the way it howled. He opened his mouth to speak but found that his voice box was too tight to let any sound pass.
“Armand.” Her voice came out nearly breathless as she stared at him with wide, blue-green eyes.
His grip on the bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white. He had to harden his heart to the sensuous girl who made empty promises, whose bruised eyes hid a treacherous heart. Motioning his head in the general direction of her art, he bit out, “You’re quite talented.”
“Th… thank you,” she murmured, stumbling over her words. Watching him wearily, she jerkily made her way across the room to her work area, setting down a bag he hadn’t even noticed. Her eyes darted to a space just behind him and he could see her pulse fluttering madly in her neck. She was hiding something from him.
Chancing a glance over his shoulder, he saw the painting from earlier, the one of her and Apollo looking so damn perfect together. Of course she wouldn’t want him to see that painting because it was a reminder of her betrayal. But he had already seen it. Swallowing the bile that threatened to spew all over her, he looked back at her and softly asked, “Was it just the one time?”
She turned her head away and the color rose dramatically in her cheeks and suddenly he didn’t want to hear her answer. He hadn’t realized that he had been praying that it was alcohol and misery that drove her into Apollo’s arms. The kernel of hope died a quick and brutal death, taking another slice of his heart with it. Her voice trembled as she murmured, “It’s not what you think.”
“Did you fuck him more than once?” he asked again, ignoring the way she winced at his words. Her lips parted but she didn’t say anything, she didn’t explain, and he laughed painfully, “Of course you did. After all you’re just a silly girl.”
His words were met with a horrid approximation of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. There was a wealth of pain in those eyes but all she said was, “Yes, I’m just a silly girl who’s still in love with a stubborn, foolish gargoyle.”
Grudgingly, he crossed the room, his body’s desire to be close to her overruling his head’s desire to stay as far away from her as possible. Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hand and brushed his thumb along her lower lip. Electricity travelled up his arm from where he touched her and he welcomed the agony and the ecstasy. “Ferris… tell me something to make this torment go away.”
“You’ve already condemned me, Armand,” she said solemnly, her eyes so much older and wiser than a mere thirty-one years. “What could I possibly say that will change your mind?”
“Tell me you didn’t have sex with him,” he pleaded irrationally, desperately. Much to his chagrin, his cock swelled in arousal at being so close to her. He wanted her. “Tell me that I am still encased in stone and this is just a dream, that I will wake up and you will be waiting for me.”
Holding his eyes, she turned her head just enough to kiss his palm before stepping out of his reach, “Tell me you didn’t give your nights to a stranger so you didn’t have to give them to me.”
There was a core of steel to her that hadn’t been there before, an inner strength that radiated throughout her entire being giving her a stillness that most people her age lacked. She had the presence of someone who had experienced a great deal and survived it all. There was also an air of isolation that surrounded her, something he had seen when she was a child but now it was almost impenetrable. She was incredibly self-contained, watching the world but no longer participating. How could he see so much and still feel as if he didn’t know her? “You’re not the same Ferris that clung to me when I lost my nights.”
With a sad smile, she shook her head no in agreement. “It’s what happens when you have to go on without the man you love.”
He winced at her words, desperate to believe her words. But he couldn’t get the image of her and Apollo out of his head and so he tormented himself by what he could no longer have. “Ferris….”
“Did you mean it when you told me you loved me?” she asked softly, looking at him with tho
se turquoise green eyes that reached into the depths of his being and made him feel whole.
Except now he saw Apollo’s laughing as the god laid claim to everything that Armand could have had but threw away. His eyes scanned her face as he pressed his lips together, no longer knowing the woman she had become, how much she had changed. If Apollo were around would she even spare Armand a second glance? Perhaps this new maturity was to mask her misery over Apollo’s absence, perhaps her lusty welcoming had been desperation to hide her missing lover. Finally, Armand answered, “I meant it at the time.”
She wasn’t able to hide the cringe that briefly twisted her expression, making him feel like an ass for not being able to tell her he loved her still. Licking her lips, she softly asked, “Is there any hope for us?’
He looked at her, his soul screaming at him to take her into his arms and kiss her until the pain was buried so damn deep it would never touch him again. But the pain would always be there because he would know she slept with Apollo. He hadn’t wanted the burden of living up to her expectations but not having her was going to kill him. He was going to have to live a life encased in ice once more. Slowly, he shook his head, his eyes bleak, as he rasped, ‘No.”
“Then this is it?” she asked. At his hesitant nod, her eyes glistened with tears but she didn’t let any fall. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she swallowed audibly and nodded her head in resignation. She took a couple of shaky breaths before she rasped, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Ferris,” he managed to choke out, his body rebelling against his words.
A soft sob broke through her lips and her lips trembled as she whispered, “Goodbye, my love.”
He still held the bottle of bourbon in his hand as she walked away. She stopped for only a moment when she reached the door but he was too busy drowning in his own despair to call her back. Looking away from her because he couldn't bear watching her leave, he regretted it almost immediately.
Chapter 16
The Battle is Over and the War is Lost
A fog wrapped itself around Ferris as she stumbled out of the door of her studio wondering what the hell just happened. Armand hadn’t been angry, he hadn’t raged, he hadn’t even been that cruel. In the end he had simply been… defeated. Had he been any of those other things she would have stayed and fought with him but she couldn’t fight when he had already conceded the battle.
If she understood what held him back then she would know how to fight for him.
Or maybe she should stop trying to pursue a relationship he didn’t want, stop trying to force him to love her. Maybe he wasn't her destiny and she was just a fool.
Unable to continue walking on rubbery legs, she leaned against the wall and placed her hand over her bleeding heart as the tears she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks. If she loved him, truly loved him, she had to let him go.
“Hey, Fer,” a voice called to her through the fog. She looked up and saw Raphe walking towards her, the smile fading from his face as he took in her appearance. He quickened his pace until he was standing in front of her, his hands chaffing up and down her arms. “What’s wrong, Ferris?”
Her breath hitched in her chest as she stared at his warm, compassionate eyes and more tears fell. “He hates me… no, it’s worse than that. He doesn’t feel anything for me.”
Raphe pulled her into a hug, resting his chin against the top of her head as he smoothed his hands along her spine. “Ah, Ferris, do you want me to kick his ass for you?”
A choked giggle escaped at Raphe’s offer and she tilted her head back to see him smiling down at her. Cupping his cheek in her hand, she shook her head no, “He’s five hundred years older than you, Raphe. He’d have you pinned to the ground and begging for mercy before you even threw your first punch.”
“I should have ignored Leo and Michael and carved his heart out all of those years ago,” he grumbled darkly, his eyes almost militant with sincere regret.
Startled by that revelation, Ferris looked at him, “Pardon?”
Color seeped into his cheeks as he looked away and cleared his throat, ‘Um, nothing?”
“Raphael, what did the three of you do?” she asked, stepping out of his arms and putting her hands on her hips.
A slight smile curved his lips as he stared down at her, outweighing her by at least a hundred pounds of pure muscle. He chucked her on the chin, “It’s nothing, Ferris. I was just blowing off a little steam. Leo and Michael stopped me before too much damage was done.”
Her eyes widened in her face and her lips parted with a gasp, “How much damage?”
“A few scratches,” he shrugged, running his hand through his hair and avoiding her penetrating gaze. “They healed by the next morning, Ferris.”
She shook her head with disappointment in her gargoyles. “It wasn’t your place.”
Anger flashed in his purple eyes and he leaned into her space, his face a hair’s breadth away from hers, “No, Ferris, it is our place. You were ours to protect and we failed you. And then you closed yourself off from us, from your family, for years, Ferris. You keep everything bottled up inside, pretending everything is okay when all of us can see that you’re not okay. Hell, you had two kids that you didn’t tell anyone about! So it is our place.”
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her face at his impassioned tirade, so similar to the one her mother had given her. By the end of his speech he was panting with fury, his cheeks burning with vivid red splotches. All at once he seemed to run out of steam and with a sigh he rested his forehead against hers. “You’re not an easy person to love, Ferris.”
His words were like a physical blow and she sucked in her gut as if punched. But then he scowled, grumbling, “That came out wrong. It’s very easy to love you but it’s very hard to get close to you.”
Her forehead crinkled in a frown as she absorbed his words, her heart thudding madly in her chest. Perhaps he had a valid point but did he really have to wonder why she kept so much to herself? The one person she shared herself with completely rejected her. How was she supposed to deal? Patting his chest, she smiled up at him, “I promise to do better.”
“Jesus, Ferris,” he growled, stepping from her and staring down at her in incomprehension. “I’m not the pathetic Raphael you have to protect anymore. I’ve grown up, in case you haven’t noticed. I want you to look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes and saw all the way to his impassioned soul. Placing her fingers over his lips, she whispered, “Please don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
“I’ve regretted not saying anything for too long,” he breathed, his words hot against the skin of her fingertips. Closing his eyes in pain, he kissed her fingers then pushed himself away from her. Without looking at her, he turned and walked away, his shoulders hunched, his tread heavy. Ferris watched him go with regret. She loved him, but not the way he wanted.
The situation was not lost on her.
She had always assumed Raphe had offered her his nights because he drew the short straw; and now she wasn’t so sure. Absent-mindedly, she turned and slowly made her way to the roof where she would be able to think.
Stepping onto the roof, the balmy air washing over her, she crossed to the place where Armand usually sat. Sitting on the ledge, her feet dangling fourteen stories above the city streets, she stared out into the night, seeing the creatures that were slowly becoming more comfortable without the veil, seeing the humans that were still wary. Her grandmother had been right: humans were a dying race, at least pure humans were.
The structure of society was changing, the old foundations disappearing as even older foundations came to the surface. It was becoming the world that Ferris grew up in. As a human who had straddled the line she knew that it was not a world that was comfortable. Everything had changed when the veil was lifted but the repercussions would be felt for decades, centuries, for both humans and the supernatural creatures.
And she had demanded Armand take the bigges
t leap of all when she wanted him to give her his nights.
Had he ever loved her?
Closing her eyes, letting the warm breeze play over her face, she let the memories of their time together wash over her, feeling the warmth of being with him fill her. She had thought he had loved her. Was it all an illusion? Were her memories just fantasy? A story she told herself to make living without him bearable?
No, he had loved her. He still loved her but he shut her out.
There was a slight suction and a silent pop as Fray pulled himself from her back. The golden dragon’s claws dug into her skin as he crawled around her body and skittered up her arm to settle on her shoulder. He butted his head against her cheek with affection, making her smile. “I want to understand, Fray.”
“Understand what, Dragon-Mate?” he asked in his deep, velvet rough voice.
“What Armand is going through,” she answered softly, watching an ethereal carriage being pulled by a dozen white unicorns, their golden horns glimmering in the city light. It was a beautiful sight that was becoming more and more common, as evidenced by the lack of gawkers on the street below. “What holds him back?”
Fray was silent for a long time and when she looked at him he was studying her with his ancient jeweled eyes. His body expanded with his breath as he softly asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation. Fray was her Dragon-Mate and she trusted him with her life. And had.
After another shuddering breath, he demanded, “Stand up.”
She scrambled to her feet, wiping the grit from her backside as she waited for Fray to continue. A stronger breeze blew and she almost lost her balance but she managed to right herself at the last moment. With a weak laugh, she murmured, “Whoa, that was close! I almost fell over the edge.”
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