I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Thanks.”
Larissa left without another word. I hurried to the door and locked it before crossing the room to retrieve my backpack.
How much did my dad know about his family history? He must know something if he had all these documents in his possession. I wanted to ask him, but I wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. I mean, it wasn’t every day you learned your family was descended from witches who cursed vampires.
I pulled out the stack of papers, the ones I didn’t go through last night, and set them on my bed. A sheet folded in half slipped out of the pile. Picking it up, I opened it. A photograph of a young woman was tucked inside.
I studied it—she was pretty with big hazel eyes, long black hair, and a pale complexion. Who was she? There was a name scrawled across the back of the photo: Samara Rose. Pretty name, too, but still—who was she? How did she fit into everything?
This entire thing was a living nightmare, one I couldn’t wake up from no matter how hard I tried. And right now, I was tired of trying. I couldn’t make sense of anything, and I was getting a massive headache. Shoving everything back into the shoebox, I set it on my nightstand. I gathered my clothes and headed for the shower.
As I stood beneath the spray of hot water, my shoulders slumped with the weight of the choice looming over my head. Either I told Trent the truth, or I didn’t. Either I wanted to be with him for an eternity, or I didn’t. But I couldn’t tell him the truth and then refuse to do anything about it. That was cruel.
There were no doubts in my mind or heart that I loved Trent. Did I love him enough to give up my life, my mortality, to spend an eternity with him? I was only seventeen. How could I make such a huge life changing decision?
And I couldn’t even think about Jax right now. Despite how much his betrayal hurt, he was the least of my worries. Eventually, I’d have to face him, but not yet.
The water turned cool, so I shut it off and climbed out of the shower. I dressed, applied some makeup, and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Then, I stood in my room and looked around.
Despite how badly I wanted a family, this place didn’t feel like home. I didn’t belong here. Regardless of whatever I chose to do about Trent, I knew I couldn’t stay here a day longer.
I spent the next thirty minutes packing a single suitcase with clothes and shoes. I shoved the shoebox of papers into my backpack, along with my mother’s urn and the framed photo of us. Nothing else really mattered to me. But before I left, there was something I needed to do.
I made my way to the den and knocked on the door. “Dad?”
“Come in,” he called.
I stepped into the room and lightly closed the door behind me.
Dad sat in an oversize, high back leather chair facing a large, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Smoke billowed around his head. Since when did he smoke?
“Can I talk to you?” I asked, taking the seat next to him.
“Sure.” He snuffed the cigar into an ashtray. “What’s on your mind?”
I took a deep breath. “Why did you walk out on me and Mom?”
He coughed, then took a drink of whatever liquor was in the glass that had been sitting on the stand beside his chair. “Excuse me?”
“Why did you walk out on me and Mom?” I asked again.
“Honestly, Chloe. That was such a long time ago. What does it matter?”
“It matters to me, Dad. I loved you, and you just left me. I don’t understand.” My voice caught on a sob, but I forced it back, refusing to let him see just how much his actions had hurt me. “What did I do to make you stop loving me?”
He shifted in his chair, propping his ankle on his knee. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Chloe. Never.”
“Then why, Dad?” I clutched my hands in my lap so I wouldn’t fidget. “Did Mom do something to push you away?”
“No.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s complicated.”
Dad stood, grabbed his glass, and downed the rest of the amber liquid. Then he crossed the room to the bar in the corner for a refill. He kept his back to me.
Anger slowly built in my chest. Why wouldn’t he answer me? He owed me an explanation, and I wasn’t going to leave until I had one.
“Dad,” I said forcefully.
He took a long, slow drink, still keeping his back to me. If he thought he could ignore me and I’d go away, he was wrong. Well, if he wasn’t going to tell me why he abandoned me, maybe he’d tell me more about our family history.
I cleared my throat. “I know about the Zoya witches and the Halstead vampires.”
Dad whipped around, eyes wide. His face was ghost white. “What did you say?”
“I know that you’re descended from a powerful witch named Rector Zoya.” Despite the nerves trampling through my stomach, my voice was steady. “I know he cursed a vampire for killing the woman he loved.”
“How do you know all of that?” His voice was barely audible, but it sounded like a bullhorn in the silent room.
“I found some stuff in the boxes of pictures. A journal and some family trees.” Feeling empowered, I stood. “Who’s Samara Rose?”
He muttered a string of curses. “I thought I’d gotten rid of all that junk.” Dad downed the rest of his drink in one large gulp, and then refilled his glass. He shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”
My patience wore thin, and I curled my hands into fists.
“Who else knows about this?” he asked.
“No one,” I said quickly. “Are you Frank Miller?”
He swirled his drink around in the glass, the ice clicking against the sides of the tumbler. “I never wanted to have this conversation with you.” He took a sip. “Everything I did was to prevent this exact thing.”
“What?”
“I never knew about the Zoya until my grandfather was on his deathbed.” He took another drink and then moved to sit on the bench that was situated beneath the window. Hanging his head, he heaved a loud sigh. “He told me and my father this ridiculous story about witches and vampires…” He brought the tumbler to his lips, hesitated, then lowered it without taking a drink. His hand trembled.
“My father dismissed it as nothing more than a dying old man who’d lost his mind.” Dad grunted. “But I was young and curious. I read the journals he’d kept, and it was enough for me to realize there was some truth to what he’d told to us. I tried to convince my father to take it seriously, but he wouldn’t.”
I remained frozen in place, afraid if I moved he’d stop talking. “So… what happened?” I whispered.
“I went off to college. Met your mother.” He lifted his head and smiled faintly. “I forgot all about witches and vampires and curses. Until I married your mother and we found out she was pregnant with you.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, waiting for him to continue.
“I still wasn’t sure if any of it was true, but when I found out I was going to have a daughter, I wasn’t willing to take any chances. I legally changed my last name to Madison.”
I exhaled loudly, the weight of his admission hanging over us like a black cloud. He’d just confirmed what I already knew—I was the female descendant capable of breaking the Halstead curse.
“Figured if it was true, it would be harder for anyone to trace your lineage with yet another name change,” he said. He took a long drink, his gaze focused somewhere behind me. “A woman visited me right after you turned seven. Her name was Samara Rose, and she was a witch.”
I momentarily closed my eyes. Part of me regretted asking him about any of this, but my need to know outweighed anything else. Slowly, I lowered myself back into the chair and gripped the armrests.
“What does that have to do with you leaving us?” I asked.
“Everything. She came for you, Chloe. She wanted you so she could hand you over to those filthy Halsteads. She wanted them to change you into what they are, to make you a bloodsucking monster so she could restor
e the magical balance.”
That was the witch Trent had told me about…
“When Rector invoked the power of his ancestors, he tipped the magical balance. All the good, responsible witches were angry, and one of them sought us out. She said she was aware of the curse and had been watching closely, waiting for us to reset the balance. But her coven had been weakened by the Zoya magic, and she couldn’t continue to do nothing. So, she offered to help us find a descendant, and she claims she found one, but she wouldn’t tell us who or where. She wanted to seek her out without the Zoya knowing, so she left. We never saw her again.”
“She made the mistake of telling me that she was the only one who knew the truth about me. About you,” he said, his voice oddly detached. “And I saw a way to make sure the truth about who you were stayed hidden.”
I opened my mouth, but I was speechless. My jaw snapped shut, and I slouched in the chair.
“You were just a kid,” he said, looking up at me with sad eyes. “I wasn’t going to let her take you.”
My stomach twisted into a tight knot, and bile rose thick and heavy in my throat. “What did you do?” I whispered.
“It doesn’t matter.” He stood. “I did what I had to do to protect you.”
Oh, God. I felt the color drain from my face. Was it possible…? My heart stopped.
“You killed her?” I couldn’t believe those words were coming out of my mouth, that I was accusing my father of murder.
“I saved you,” he snapped. His eyes bulged, and his face was beet red. His grip on the glass was so tight his knuckles turned white.
“You left me!” I stood, seething anger filling my veins. “I was seven. I needed my dad, and you left me.” Tears pooled in my eyes and trickled down my face.
“I protected you,” he shouted and threw his glass across the room. It smashed against the wall.
I yelped and jumped back, eyes wide and blurry from my tears.
“I made the problem disappear,” he said more calmly. “And then I took off.” He laughed bitterly and held his arms out. “I left, disappeared for a while, lived off the grid, changed my name again so no one else would connect me to you. I did it to save you, Chloe. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be safe.”
I sniffled and wiped my cheeks. So, that’s why my father walked out of my life—because he was trying to prevent me from being sacrificed to the vampires. It all made sense now, but he killed someone. Granted, he’d done it to protect me, but that didn’t make it right.
“Wait…” I said suddenly. A fresh wave of nausea rolled through me. “Did Mom know about all of this?”
He nodded.
I let out a sound that was a mix between a gasp and a sob, and I once again slapped my hand over my mouth. Mom had known? She’d lied to me my whole life, too? Was there anyone I could trust?
“I never wanted you to know about any of this.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry I left you and your mom. Believe me when I say I never wanted to, but I had no choice. I had to protect you. Even though I knew it broke her heart, your mother understood. She only wanted what was best for you, too.”
His expression was tormented, and a pang of sympathy punched me in the gut. All these years, I’d thought he left because he stopped loving me, but that wasn’t the case at all. He loved me so much he did the unthinkable. It was hard to be mad at him for that, but I also couldn’t stand here and look at him knowing he murdered someone in cold blood.
I swiped at my tears again. “Why did you come back for me now? What happened?”
“Jaxon Halstead happened. He told me if I didn’t come get you, you’d die. After everything I’d done to protect you…” He shook his head. “He gave me his word that if I brought you home with me, he’d go away and leave my family alone for good.”
The mention of Jax had me sucking in a razor-sharp breath. I knew Jax had been behind my father showing up, but to know he promised to disappear forever—he had no right to promise that for Trent.
“I understand why you did what you did, but I can’t…” I hiccupped. “I’m not staying here with you. I’m going back to Keene Valley.”
“I don’t think so.” His face twisted with anger and disbelief. “I’m your father, and—”
“No! You do not get to call yourself my father,” I said through gritted teeth. I pointed at him, my hand trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. “You have never been there for me, not when I was growing up. Not when Mom died. Never when I needed you the most, and you don’t get to suddenly decide to be in my life now.”
“Chloe,” he said, a clear warning in his tone.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “And you’re going to let me go, or I’ll tell Larissa and everyone else what you did.”
He faltered, and the vein in his neck visibly ticked. “Are you threatening me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But I don’t want to be here. I never did, and I’m going home to stay with Aunt Beth and Uncle Dean.”
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? What am I supposed to tell Larissa?”
I shrugged. “Tell her I’m visiting home for the summer, and then when summer is over, I just won’t come back. I don’t care what you tell her, but I’ve packed my things, and I’m going. Today.” My heart hammered, and my palms were sweaty, but a new energy surged through me.
“Please don’t do this, Chloe.” His voice cracked, and I momentarily questioned my decision. “If you go back there, you’ll die. Jaxon gave me his word, and I gave him mine that you’d never step foot in Keene Valley again.”
I was going to kill Jax the next time I saw him, for more than one reason. “You had no right to make that promise,” I said.
I’d spare my father the heartache of knowing I was in love with the very thing he’d spent his life trying to protect me from, but that was the only thing he was getting from me.
“I never wanted any of this,” he said, his tone defeated.
My throat ached. “Just… do better with Little Frank, okay?” I gave him a sad smile, wiped my tears again, and then walked out of the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:
Wanted
MY PALMS WERE SWEATY, AND I thought for sure my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I glanced around nervously, worried who might catch me here. Not that it mattered.
Still, leaving my father’s house like I had, without saying goodbye to Larissa or Little Frank, didn’t sit well with me. But saying goodbye would have meant questions, and I couldn’t handle any of those right now. I could barely handle everything I’d learned over the last twenty-four hours.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked, and the door swung open almost instantly.
“Chloe?” Shock and relief warred on his face.
The mere sight of him had tears forming in my eyes, and I tried my hardest to blink them away. For months, I’d been alone and miserable, trying to fill a hole in my heart that I couldn’t explain, a hole only he could fill.
“Can you forgive me?” I asked before I chickened out.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. Even though he was wrong, hearing him say that was a relief.
“Still. I’m sorry.” I sniffled and wiped at a tear that managed to escape down my cheek.
“Don’t be.” He held out his hand.
I took it, allowing him to pull me inside. The sound of the door latching made me jump.
He titled his head, studying me. “Please don’t tell me we’re back to you being afraid of me, Chloe.”
“I’m not sure afraid is the word I’d use.” I fought to hide my smile, wondering if he’d recognize the words he’d said to me months ago.
“No?” He lifted a brow. “What word would you use, then?”
I grinned and let my bag fall to the floor. “Cautiously interested.”
Laughing, Trent tugged me closer. “Get over here.”
He nearly growled the words as he slipped his arm around my waist, and in that split second,
everything I’d been missing, every emotion and thought clicked back into their rightful places.
In the blink of an eye, I was on the bed, and Trent was above me, his lips on my neck, showering me with heated kisses. My head spun, and I blinked to get my bearings. I forgot how dizzy I got when he moved me so fast. But I was much too distracted by his lips to worry about anything else.
I clutched his face and brought his mouth to mine, needing the physical reminder that all of this—that he—was real. His kiss seared my mind and body. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about him, or that I’d ever wanted to. With each flick of his tongue over mine, the crater-sized hole in my heart began to heal.
I still didn’t know why he’d come looking for me, and I didn’t care. Not right now anyway. All that mattered was that he was here, and there wasn’t a force on earth that would keep me away from him ever again.
Pressing harder against his lips, demanding more, I eased my hand up his shirt, my fingers grazing the softest, most perfect skin I’d ever felt. Heated tingles raced up my arms as I moved my hand up his torso, tracing every well-defined line of his abs.
He let out a satisfied, throaty groan, and I was suddenly drowning in the words he’d said not so long ago.
“Every time I touch you or kiss you, it’s like every nerve in my body is electrified, every feeling magnified. It’s like my very skin is alive with energy. I crave you, Chloe, and that’s the best feeling in the world.”
Trent pulled away just long enough to reach behind his head, grab the collar of his shirt, and pull it off. Then his lips were on mine again, but my breath had already been stolen by the much too quick glimpse I’d gotten of his bare chest. It had to be some sort of crime against nature or humanity for him to look that good.
Sure, I had seen him shirtless once before, at Simon’s, but this time it was different. I trailed my fingers down his chest and around to his back. He trembled in response, but he didn’t stop kissing me until I turned my head away, gasping for a lungful of air.
“Chloe.” My name was a breathless whisper. “I’ve missed you so much.”
I wished I could say the same, but until two days ago, I literally had no idea he even existed.
Eternal Choice: (The Cursed Series, Book 2) Page 17
