Miss Suzette looked at her girl. Despite the good relationship with Sylvain that they had, she wanted to go rip the wings off that manly piece of Tinker Bell. Inwardly huffing while her blood boiled, she kept quiet. Partly because she didn’t want to say something she’d regret later and partly because Sophie knew the answers, and had come to her because she needed a sounding board. That’s what a mother did, Miss Suzette grumbled, regardless of instinct. A mother would do what was best, well a good mother would, at least. And, her girls were the children of her heart. She would do for them what she would not be able to do for the children of her womb. Blinking back the tears that sprung to her own eyes as she watched Sophie quietly cry, she sat and waited.
“I’m an emotional rag,” Sophie stated. “And I allow it. Sylvain is not in love with me and is happy with the status quo. I’m not, but because I want him to be happy, I allow our relationship to continue as is.” She kept quiet again, staring into the swirling brown coffee as she moved the cup around in circles. She looked up at Miss Suzette, painful realizations reflected on her face, “I have to break things off with him.”
Miss Suzette didn’t nod, and said nothing. Instead, she took Sophie into her ample arms and held her close. Resting her chin on her little one’s head, she wished she could take the pain away. They’d be there for her. Her sisters. And she’d be there to wipe as many tears that came. She didn’t know how to fix this. She wished she did. Mothers didn’t have all the answers, she realized and said a prayer for some answers to come to her.
xxx
Sophie saw Sylvain waiting for her in the meadow. She had just come from Arianna but instead of her usual lesson, she had made arrangements for the lessons to continue at the plantation. She’d used the excuse that she was needed there and had to return. She knew that the fae sorceress had her own suspicions, and they were likely accurate, but she wasn’t in the mood for sympathy or chit-chats about their mutual former lover. She valued Arianna’s friendship and wanted to keep her relationship with Sylvain out of it from now on. Arianna had been shrewdly accepting of the new relationship, asking questions only pertaining to the logistics.
Now came the hardest part, Sophie acknowledged. She looked around, allowing herself to relish in the warmth of the sun on her skin, the beauty of the visage, and the tranquility she found there. This was the last time she planned to come here. After this, only dire circumstances would find her at the hollow. Arrangements could always be made with the girls’ tutors for school business and with her sisters, Conall or Raulf for Coffin Girls duties.
She rested her eyes on Sylvain and felt her heart ache. He was sitting under their favorite tree, quietly watching her, and waiting for her to join him. He was masculine beauty epitomized. She sometimes stole a look at him and wondered how she had come to deserve such a wonderful, intelligent, and kind man. Turns out she was right? She wasn’t what he needed because she wasn’t what he loved. She’d grown enough backbone though in her recent experiences to realize that though she might not deserve him, she deserved the love of a man and staying with him was not going to help her find it.
“Hi,” Sophie greeted him, when she reached to the tree.
Sylvain got up to kiss her, but she stepped back from him. She saw his puzzled look, but ignored it. “I have to go back to the plantation.”
“Is everything okay?” Sylvain asked in concern.
“Yes,” Sophie replied, then took the plunge. “We have to end this Sylvain. Whatever it is that we have between us, I’m in love with you and I know that you can’t love me back. So, I’m saving us the pain of losing our friendship and self-respect for each other by ending it now.” She growled in frustration at herself then looked him straight in his handsome face. “Who am I kidding? Look. I love you. You don’t love me. I deserve to be loved so I’m cutting my losses although my heart is breaking and I’m leaving you. I’m going back to the plantation.”
She saw the shock on Sylvain’s face, registered him absorbing her tirade, and then turned around. He didn’t call after her, didn’t stop her. She wouldn’t look back. Her pride bid her to do that. So, she took the first steps. They required courage but with each step away from him, she breathed and felt her spine strengthen. She could do this and she would be okay. Maybe not today, but sometime in the future, she’d look back at this differently, and she wouldn’t feel her heart breaking.
xxx
“Seriously?!” Vérène screeched at Sylvain.
He was splayed out across the chesterfield sofa in his library. The room was in darkness, the only light was coming from the fireplace. It was a broody space and suited his mood. He flicked a glance at his sister. His pissed-off twin did not suit his mood.
“Go away,” he growled, taking another swig of the amber liquid beckoning in the crystal glass. He clutched it as though his life depended on it. And really, it did. It made him forget and helped him not to think.
“Thank you, Vérène, my dear sister for coming to see what’s wrong with me,” she bit out sarcastically. “Really?!” She huffed. “I get this feeling that you’re in deep trouble, in immense pain, and rush my fae toosh over, granted it is a nice one,” she glanced behind her, “but, instead of finding you in a life and death situation, you’re getting drunk.” She growled, “What a douchebag!”
“You’ve always been a master of the art of kicking a man when he was down, dear sister.” Sylvain held his glass up in salute, “thank you. You’ve been loads of help.”
“Oh, is my sanctimonious ass of a brother feeling sorry for himself?” Vérène cooed. “Why, your witch-vamp friend not giving it to you lately?”
“Don’t be a bitch,” Sylvain growled at her, while inwardly flinching.
Vérène gaped. “That’s it! Isn’t it?” She walked towards the sofa and sat next to him. “You are in pain. She broke you heart.” Sylvain remained silent.
“Sophie is not the type to hurt someone else,” Sylvain corrected. “It seems that I pushed her away.” For once, his sister was blessedly silent, which made it easier to carry on. He didn’t know why he was spilling his guts, just that he needed to. If nothing else, Vérène got him, just as he got her. The blessing and curse of being fae twins and rulers of their kind.
“She came to me and said that she was ending it because she loved me? What kind of stupid is that?”
“It’s not really stupid, Sylvain,” she replied. “Do you love her?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Honestly, we’ve been friends for a while, but this relationship with her is new. One minute we’re having the best sex of our lives and the next, she’s breaking up with me because I don’t love her back.”
“She’s an empath right?” Vérène probed.
Sylvain nodded, “According to Arianna, she is one of the strongest she’s come across.”
“Then you knew how deeply she would feel and how quickly she would fall in love, when it was the right match.” She looked at the lines marring her brother’s face, noticed the grip he had on his glass. “You are her right match then. Empaths are rarely wrong about such things. You, of all people, should know that.”
That was the problem, Sylvain thought. He did know and if experience taught him anything, it was that it was better to leave things alone. Not take the risk.
Vérène watched him, her eyes missing nothing. “Why, brother? After all this time, surely you deserve to have love in your life. You can’t…” Vérène inhaled deeply, “you can’t still be mourning Marianne?”
“Don’t you dare speak of her,” Sylvain’s voice reverberated off the walls.
Vérène arched an unimpressed brow in response. “It has been three thousand years since she died. Surely, it is time to move on. Even your stubborn ass must realize that this more than qualifies as an appropriate period of mourning.”
He didn’t respond, didn’t look at her. He stared into the darkness of the room, face tight, muscles clenched and nursed his drink. “But, you haven’t moved on,” she obs
erved. “That much is clear. Bitch-Goddess, but you’re stubborn!” She swore.
Sylvain’s lips twitched despite his intention to send her on her way as soon as she had berated him enough to listen. Only his sister would dare to attach the Goddess to a profanity and with such nonchalance. “As are you, sister,” he replied. “Must be a family trait.”
“Well your stubbornness is allowing you to lose something that has made you happy. Is this pain you’re feeling right now, worth it?”
“It is if it will keep her safe,” he replied.
“You don’t know that it will,” she shouted in exasperation. “Freaking hell. She could get staked! Their Cajun cook told me about the witch-nappings. Any of those situations could drain her.”
“I know,” Sylvain acknowledged. “But I’ve taken measures to ensure that she can handle them. She’s been training with Arianna.”
“Then why…?” She asked, and then remained perplexed. Then her brows rose as realization dawned. “Marianne was not a strong empath. She had skill, but Arianna was still much more powerful than her. So, you’re thinking that if your witch-vamp is as strong as you think she is, even the training won’t be enough to save her.
“Again, Sylvain, you don’t know that. Based on something beyond your control of which you are completely unsure of, you are willing to put yourself through this?” She waved a hand at him. “If you are feeling this way, brother, then she must be too. Is that something you can stomach? It doesn’t make sense to protect your heart from hurt when it is already hurting.”
“At least she lives,” Sylvain bit out.
“So, if she isn’t with you, she’ll live longer?” Vérène continued to hit the nail on the head. “That’s arrogant, even for you. Last time I checked, we did not possess the Godly powers of Fate or Mortality.”
“Last time I checked,” Sylvain retaliated, “you did not have the right to come into my home. Let alone come here and start meddling in something that is of no concern to you!”
She shrugged, “Sure, go to your usual MO. Make this about me and not about you. That’s extremely fucking mature.”
“What do you want, Vérène?”
“I told you,” she admonished. “But, maybe you are too drunk to listen.” She got up and began pacing the room in frustration. “I don’t know why I did, but I felt you were in pain and that you needed help. Since our meeting in the throne room, our connection has been a bit stronger. Meaning I feel your pain, you fucking moron! Uurgh! Why couldn’t I have had a sister? Why the freaking hell did I get stuck with an idiotic, stubborn, douche bag of a man for a brother?!” She walked towards him, grabbed the drink out of his hand and took a large gulp, then handed him the glass back again.
“Love you too,” he muttered at her. He used magick to fill the glass up.
“No, you don’t,” she rectified. “You might have once before, but you haven't since Marianne died.” She shook her head. “But that’s not why I’m here. I came to save you and it is obvious that I have to knock some sense into you instead.
Sylvain glared at his sister. “It is easier to speak of moving on, to accept your reasoning, if you have never lost.” He saw his sister stiffen. It might have been for a millisecond, but it was long enough for him to pick it up. He sat back, regarding her in surprise. She was right. Since their tentative reunion in the throne room, he had been feeling her more than he had previously. And, now, he felt her strength, buckets of it. But, underneath, there was some heavily buried sadness. “You have lost. I’m sorry, sister. Despite our estrangement, I do not want you to hurt.”
“Our estrangement, as you so put it, Sylvain, is another classical example of how pigheaded you can be and how difficult you find it to let go. To trust. Never mind our estrangement. I waited for you to speak to me for the first five hundred years. When you didn’t, I gave up. The two thousand five hundred years since has proven what a sanctimonious jackass you are. I know you will not move on from what happened with us and Marianne. But again, that’s not the point. Also, despite what you think, sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself, what has happened with the witch-vamp isn’t the issue. The issue is you. You really need to stop feeling as though you have to take care of everyone.”
He lifted a sardonic brow at her. “Oh, you know what I mean,” she responded to the gesture, growling in frustration. “We each are responsible for our subjects - their welfare, the fae race, and magick, but we are not responsible for their personal lives - matters of their hearts. That is something the bitch-Goddess cursed us with.”
“Curse?” Sylvain interjected, puzzled.
“Never mind that,” she waved his question away. A bit too quickly, he thought.
“Brother, if you really care about her, you need to sort yourself out.” He continued to scowl at her, clearly unappreciative of the fact that she’d left her own kingdom to come to his freaking rescue. “I’m so done with this. You’re a grown fucking man or you should be and I am not going to bloody babysit you.” Before he could say that he never asked her to, she glared at him and spat out, “Grow a pair, brother.”
Vérène left as abruptly as she’d entered, leaving Sylvain again in darkness. Damn if he wasn’t more pissed off now than before she’d arrived. Fucking women! Why the hell did they have to complicate every darn thing around them?!
Chapter 13
“We’ve discovered another group of captured, young witches,” Anais’ voice came through on the speakerphone. Sylvain and Sophie were seated on opposite sides of the large desk in the plantation library. Sophie’s plans to avoid meeting Sylvain had been thwarted when Anais had called her, asking her to contact Sylvain and request his help on another rescue mission. Sophie was still alone at the plantation with Miss Suzette. Rose had opted to stay at the Quarter house as much of her time was taken attending to business there. With everyone else off somewhere on magickal or witch-vamp business, it really left her and Sylvain to see to this.
Sophie glanced at Sylvain. As always, when she looked at him, her breath caught. He tugged at places in her heart that were still sore from their break up. His demeanor was grave, as could be expected from the topic of conversation. His pallor was ashen - the kind of pale that came from too little sleep.
“They’re being held somewhere in Ohio - on a farm,” Anais continued.
“There are a lot of farms in Ohio,” Sylvain interrupted. “Have you narrowed it down?”
“I’ve had contact with the girls,” Anais replied. “Some spell-casting took care of the rest. So, yes, I do know which farm.”
“Is it like the others?” Sophie asked.
“No, fortunately not,” replied Anais. “No active torture or draining. From what I heard from these witches, they’re alone. Abandoned. Small mercies if they starve to death or die without care given to restore them from previous tortures. I suspect that their guards may have been called to the stronghold here when we battled Akeldonna.”
“They were sure of their success.” Sophie observed. “What are you worried about, Anais?”
“There was something off with the girls,” Anais replied. “I’m not sure what. As far as I could tell, they are genuine witches their need to get out is real.”
“We did a magickal scan,” Conall spoke into the phone. “It’s not a trap, but Anais is right. They’re not right. We think they might be on the verge of madness.”
“That’s not really too far-fetched,” Sophie responded. “Given what we’ve seen the vamps do to these girls, I’m surprised at the strength they have to hold on as long as they've had to. We have to move now and fast.” She knew a bit about the horrors of captivity and could relate.
“I agree,” Sylvain stated and received the same sentiment echoed by Anais and Conall. “We’ll take reinforcements,” Sylvain stated. “Just to be safe. I’ll arrange for some of my warriors to accompany us. They’ve been idle for too long. They enjoyed the first rescue mission, so they’ll be jumping up to volunteer. I’ll take the best of them.”
He realized two things - he had been protecting his subjects, his warriors from engaging in what they’d been created to do and he was not taking chances with Sophie. The protection of his warriors might be going overboard, but he would rather do that than risk her safety.
He excused himself to make the arrangements for a group of warriors to teleport to the plantation. On reentering the room, he stood for a moment and watched her. Goddess, she was stunning. He thought back to when he had arrived at the plantation for this meeting. He had been early and decided to walk from the portal through the bayou, needing the time to think. He passed by the newly constructed school buildings where she had been speaking to one of the witch tutors. His sensitive hearing had picked up a lively debate on what course to follow with the girls’ magickal herbology training. She had looked happy, animated, - beautiful. The Sophie he was used to seeing, not the Sophie who had walked away from him with tears on her lashes and pain in her eyes.
Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) Page 17
