“You need a husband.”
“So marry me and let me live my life in peace.” Sofia hated the words as they left her mouth. “It would suit you best. After all, you’re the great Grimm Reaper… you need nothing, you love nothing, you desire… nothing.”
With each word she spoke, Ash flinched.
But he didn’t deny it.
And maybe that was the worst part… he denied nothing; he simply accepted his fate as if he had no choice in the matter. When given the chance to fight for something that mattered, he stood motionless while Sofia was forced to make the choice she’d rather die than make.
“Sofia—”
“Leave me.” Hot tears streamed down her face. “Just… leave me.”
Ash nodded and stepped out of the room. When she’d needed him to deny her most… he’d given in.
She slumped into a nearby chair and hung her head in her hands, giving in to the soft sobs as they wracked her body.
The door clicked open again. She wiped her tears. “Ash, I need a moment.”
“Do you address every gentleman so familiar?” came the smooth voice, a tinge of a Russian accent claiming each word.
Dread spread throughout Sofia’s body as she slowly lifted her head. “P-Peter?”
“Tears?” he spat. “Is that the way to greet your betrothed?”
“You are not my betrothed! I’m to be married to an English gentleman, and, when I do marry him, I’m going to have you hung!”
Peter threw back his head and laughed.
How she had ever found him attractive was a mystery. His features were too sharp, his hair too long and dark.
He pulled out a pistol and clicked the hammer. “I think not, Princess. Now, keep quiet. We’re going for a little… trip.”
“No.”
He lowered the gun. “Fine.”
Sofia’s head jerked up just as his hand flew across the air in front of her. Something heavy hit the back of her head, and utter blackness enveloped her line of vision.
The last thought she had was of Ash.
If she could see him but once more, she’d tell him she loved him until her voice was hoarse and make it impossible for him to leave.
But he was gone.
And she was going to die.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The thing about falling for someone is you can’t plan it, and the minute you realize what has taken place, it’s impossible to stop the destruction and pain that lay in its wake, when you do the one unforgiveable thing — like walk away. —The Grimm Reaper
ASH’S EARS RANG WITH her words, “I love you.” Over and over again, she’d repeated it as if he was deaf and unable to hear, and the horrible part? The first time she’d said it, he thought his ears were playing tricks on him; he’d needed it a second and third time.
But by the fourth, he wasn’t able to deny the reality. Better she hate him, better she despise him, than love him and lose him, because he would be lost. It was as if the bullet lodged in his chest was trying to remind him he had less and less time in this world. The pain was so severe he had to stop and lean against the wall. Perspiration fell from his forehead onto his jacket.
His vision blurred for a brief moment. Was he losing consciousness? And then his face was wet — right below his eyes. Tears. He was crying.
The great Grimm Reaper, assassin of London, was crying.
Over a woman.
The last time he’d cried over a female, the tears had tasted bitter, for she hadn’t been his to cry over. But now? The tears were real, tangible, salty… and filled with regret. Had he been a better person, had he been a better assassin, the bullet would not have found its way into his chest, and she would be his.
She had said as much.
His past didn’t matter.
Could it be true that she saw him for the man he really was? The man that he had buried so long ago — she had pulled free of his chains, only to have Ash lock him back up again.
“Ash!” A voice yelled for him.
He jerked his head up to see Cornelius bent over in front of him, heaving from exertion. “Ash, the witch is here. She’s here!”
“Witch?” Ash repeated, his mind clouded by confusion. “Speak plainly, man!”
The rest of the Royal Guard tumbled toward Ash, pushing people out of the way. Well, at least the engagement was old news now that the Russians were pushing members of the ton into the punch bowls.
Samson’s face was white as a sheet. “She is here!”
“Who is she?” Ash demanded in a commanding tone.
“She will kill her…” Gerald shook his head. “We tried to follow her, but she lives in the shadows. If he is with her, then there is no hope. No hope at all.”
“She…” Ash’s mind worked quickly. “Sofia’s stepmother, Esmerelda is here?”
All of their heads nodded solemnly.
Dunlin’s shoulders slumped. “We have failed.”
“No,” Benedict said in a quiet voice. “They are still at the ball. They would have had to leave through at least three of the entrances I’ve been watching. They are still present.”
Surprised, Ash gave him a nod of approval and looked around at the misfits. They were loyal. He had to give them that. And right now, they would have to do. Because the woman he loved — the woman he would die for — was with the enemy, and he’d made a promise to her. A promise to protect her until his dying day.
“This is what we are going to do,” Ash said, injecting steel into his voice. He barked instructions in rapid succession.
Each guard nodded and disappeared as soon as he’d been dismissed.
“Pierce and Hunter,” Ash said aloud. Damn, he hated involving them.
“Thy name sounds so sweet upon your lips.” Pierce sauntered up to him, his smile giddy until he noticed Ash’s expression. “What the hell happened?”
“She’s here.” Cornelius, the only remaining guard, spoke up.
“Lots of she’s running about.” Pierce’s eyebrows shot up.
“Sofia’s stepmother… she’s… evil… wants to kill the princess.” Cornelius gritted his teeth.
Pierce focused in on Ash. “What do you need? Consider it done.”
“I need you to be yourself…” Ash nodded. “…with the stepmother. Can you do that?”
“Be myself?” Pierce’s eyebrows furrowed.
Cornelius sighed. “He means for you to seduce the elderly woman.”
Pallor swept over Pierce’s face as he visibly recoiled. “Elderly?”
“Cornelius,” Ash warned. “Remember what I said. Do you think you can accomplish such a task?”
Squaring his shoulders, Cornelius drew a stout breath. Then he nodded and ran off.
“Pierce,” Ash said, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “We’re to play a game.”
“Oh splendid. I do love a good chess match. Tell me, am I going to topple the queen?”
“One could only hope.”
“A scuffle before lovemaking.” Pierce grinned and pulled the pistol from his pocket. “All in all, a lovely evening.”
“We have to save her.” Ash pushed his emotions back into the furthest recesses of his mind. He had to think clearly, without emotion, without feeling. He could not — would not — put Sofia in more danger than she was already in. With a cold stare in Pierce’s direction, he pulled the pistol from his pocket. “Shoot to kill.”
“Always do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
It is always imperative that when aiming to kill — one does not hesitate. Hesitation leads to death, most likely your own. —The Grimm Reaper
SOFIA AWOKE WITH A start. Her arms were tied in front of her, placed on her lap. The room was dimly lit, or perhaps it was her vision. Peter stood a few feet away, his dark eyes gleaming with hatred, and her stepmother — her very own stepmother — stood by his side.
She looked every inch the royalty she was, from her crimson dress with matching headdress to the giant feathers
poking from her head. Her neck was draped in diamonds and rubies, so much so that it appeared as if she’d worn every piece of jewelry she owned.
Ruby slippers peeked from beneath her heavy velvet gown.
“So…” Esmeralda’s voice chilled Sofia to the core. “…you’ve been busy.”
Sofia glared.
“Then again…” Esmerelda’s eyebrow arched. “I always knew you were never good enough to be princess… but an English whore?” Her lip curled into a snarl. “My, how the mighty fall.”
“Just following my stepmother’s shining example. Tell me, how many lovers did you take during your marriage? Was it seven, or ten?”
The vile woman’s eyes narrowed.
Sofia tossed her head. “Oh, I see you’ve lost count. Age has a way of doing that to one’s brain.”
Esmerelda stalked toward her. The slap echoed across the face. The rings may as well have imprinted themselves permanently onto Sofia’s skin. Wincing, she reached for her cheek, only to have her wrist grabbed by her stepmother.
“Stupid girl.” With a jerk, she released her wrist and laughed, the lines around her face deepening with hatred as her icy blue eyes examined Sofia from head to toe. “Peter, come here, dear.”
Peter strode toward them, each step precisely placed, his smile menacing.
Despite her resolve to be strong, Sofia shivered.
“Well…” Her stepmother arched her eyebrows. “…may as well get it over with.”
“Over with?” Sofia repeated, looking between them.
“You have ten minutes.” Her stepmother sniffed. “I’ll wait in the hall, and then we’ll make our leave.”
Peter’s smile turned positively bone-chilling. “I only need five.” His eyes focused in on Sofia’s décolletage. He licked his lips.
She stepped back, the backs of her legs hitting the chair. “Wait, what are you doing?”
The sound of her stepmother’s laughter caused a sob to catch in Sofia’s throat. Her own stepmother.
“I’m doing what I should have done ages ago, my dear.” Peter tilted his head. “Teaching you a lesson.” He reached for the sleeves of her gown and ripped them clean off; her dress hung loosely around her breasts. She reached up to keep it in place, only to have her hands pried away again.
Peter reached for her breasts. “Like ripe… apples.”
Her lower lip quivered as she tried to pull away.
He cursed and jerked her against his body. “There will be no escaping this.”
Sofia squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined a world where there was no evil, a world where Peter wasn’t touching her intimately… a world where only she and Ash existed.
A happy ending where the ashes from her father’s grave weren’t a sign of evil things to come — but a marriage to a man she loved.
Cornelius stumbled down the hall ahead of Ash and ran right into the lady in the red dress.
“Mistress!” he exclaimed. “You’ve arrived! And not a moment too soon!”
Her eyes narrowed, piercing him with a glare. “You betrayed me.”
“I was deceived by her lies.” Cornelius sniffled. “I loved her!”
“Please…” The woman rolled her eyes. “…she’s but a child.”
“But her skin… white as snow, her lips as red as a rose.” Cornelius placed his hand over his heart.
The woman touched her own face, her hands shaking. “But she is not the fairest of all. She will never take my place.”
“No woman could.” He nodded in earnest. “But, well, I don’t know if I should say it.”
“Speak plainly lest you stop amusing me and I kill you with your own sword.”
Cornelius hung his head. “She has a secret… one that keeps her… young.”
The woman’s eyebrows arched. “What is it? Tell me what it is!”
“Apples.” Cornelius shrugged. “Special apples only grown in the most foreign of orchards— They sell them here, for a price.”
The woman didn’t look convinced. “What are they called?”
“Fairest Apples,” he lied. “Ask anyone.”
That was Ash’s cue. He and Pierce walked down the hallway, laughing and stumbling into one another.
“You! You there!” The woman stomped her foot. “Have you heard of these apples?”
“Apples?” Ash slurred. “Are you mad?”
Pierce slapped him on the back and threw his head back in riotous laughter. “My lady, if you are hungry, eat!”
The woman glared. “I’m asking of the Fairest Apples. Have you heard of them?”
Pierce sobered. “My lady, whatever you need such apples for? Your beauty…” He shook his head slowly. “…it bloody well takes my breath away.”
She blushed — actually blushed — and looked down.
“Such beauty needs nothing but a man to admire it.” He slowly stumbled toward her and then pressed his body against hers. “A man to take care of it.”
Her eyes hooded.
“And you are… that man?” She purred.
“My lady… whatever you need me to be… I will be. Simply kiss me and be done with it.”
She hesitated just briefly before Pierce lowered his head and turned so she was pressing him back against the wall.
There would be no way for her to hear the movement.
Nor would she notice.
Ash was swift as he gripped her wrists and tugged her back against him, holding them in one hand. He held a knife to her throat. “Where’s Sofia?”
“Sofia?”
“Play dumb and the knife goes deeper, Your Highness.” To prove his point, he dug the knife further into her throat, causing blood to trickle down her chest. With a shake, he asked again, “The princess?”
“Is soiled… most likely dead by now. After all, I gave him ten minutes, and he said he only needed five. You have failed, you have—”
“I tire of you already, old witch.” With that he slit her throat, callous of the blood streaming from her body as he stepped over her. “Search every room. The guard are blocking each exit. We will search until we find her.” In hindsight, killing the woman probably hadn’t been his best moment, but the rage that had overtaken him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
The woman had been waiting in the hall.
Waiting for something.
He looked up at the doors to the library and pushed them open.
There Sofia stood, eyes closed, as a man hovered in front of her, tugging her dress from her body. Tears streamed down her face, but she did not cry out, did not beg for mercy. Simply stood there as if a queen receiving her crown at her coronation.
Ash moved wordlessly behind the man and pressed his pistol to the back of his head. “Breathe, and I shoot.”
The man cursed then lifted his hands into the air. Ash pulled the gun slightly back, but that was all it took for the man to turn and lunge, toppling them both to the floor.
The gun clattered out of Ash’s hand as a heavy body collided with his, sending his head sailing back against the wood floor. He hit the guy with a right hook and scrambled for the pistol but was hit in the back of the head. Bloody nuisance, the guy was.
“Ash!” Sofia called, somewhere in the haze.
With a roar, Ash kneed the man in the stomach, his fingers touching the hammer of the pistol just as a gunshot rang out. Something pinched his back. Well, that couldn’t be a good sign.
Eyes blurry from all the blunt hits to his head, Ash tried to focus in on something, anything other than the pain piercing his spine and the man trying to hurt the woman he loved.
He loved her.
Ash loved Sofia.
Perhaps more than he’d ever cared to admit to another soul — even his own.
He turned and quickly elbowed the man in the face; a loud crack resounded through the room and then, without hesitation, he pulled the hammer on the pistol, aiming for the man’s chest.
The shot hit dead center.
The man stumbled
backward, said something in Russian, then, with a shaky hand, lifted the gun in his right hand and aimed straight for Sofia.
Ash didn’t have time think; he simply reacted and pushed her out of the way, just as a searing pain hit him in the neck.
Exactly where his scar had been.
Funny, that ten years ago he had given himself that very scar in hopes to end his life… and now, he was re-opening it to save not only his own — but hers.
Love had come full circle, just like life.
And like his namesake, he was returning to the ash he’d been created from, but at least in his return, in his fall back down to earth, he would look upon her face, the woman he loved, and know he’d done absolutely everything he could have to save her.
And succeeded.
With a smile, he fell to the ground as Sofia rushed to his side.
“You’re going to be all right, Ash,” she sobbed. “I swear it.” She rocked him back and forth. “Help! Someone help us!”
“So pretty.” Ash choked, reaching up to cup her soft face. “I’ll love you… forever…”
Sofia gripped his face with her hands and kissed him on the lips, her tears causing her to taste more salty than sweet.
“Ash, you need to stay awake, stay with me. I’m going to stop the bleeding.”
Ash gazed into her eyes and whispered, “But, love… you already did, the minute you said you loved me. You already did…” The room grew dim, and he heard shouts. Was that Hunter or Pierce? Several footsteps crowded into the library. Warmth overtook him as he leaned his head against Sofia’s chest and welcomed the death he never deserved.
One of honor.
One of love.
One with a vision of a girl with skin as white as snow… and lips as red as a rose… eyes the color of lilacs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Death is not peaceful, for the very moment you imagine you’re ready to leave this earth — something pulls you back, demanding you stay. —The Grimm Reaper
SOFIA PACED BACK AND forth while the surgeon worked on Ash. Hunter had tried to get her to leave, but she’d thrown such a fit that he’d let her stay. It helped that she was the one who had been keeping Ash’s lifeblood from leaving his body.
When Ash Falls Page 18
