Butterflies danced about in my gut and my stomach clenched, as if that could quiet them. There was a bright spot of red in my peripheral vision; more roses in a vase, once again from Maximilian. They’d arrived a few days ago with a card containing his scrolling black writing that said: I am once again in your debt. Perhaps I can return the favour. M.
I should’ve tossed the fucking roses. Now I really felt like I should’ve. But I liked the colour, the smell, and maybe it was in my girly DNA, but with a scooped out and obliterated heart, the sight of them was somewhat soothing. Even if they didn’t bring me pie.
The elevator halted. I fidgeted with my hands in front of me, spine steel straight, and waited as the door was hauled up. My heart pounded hard as he stepped inside and immediately I wondered what the hell I was doing, why I hadn’t just mailed the box—why I didn’t just throw everything out and have Nic email him the handful of business things I’d wanted to say.
But then my gaze locked on his and I knew this was why. Because I wanted to see him. Because everything in me screamed at me to run as fast as I fucking could and I didn’t want to do that. He’d saved my life when logic likely dictated he shouldn’t have. He deserved many things, and not the least of which was for me to have the ovaries to face him.
Of course, I didn’t have a motherfucking clue what to say, all thoughts leaving my brain as he crossed the floor toward me.
Nate looked good, all things considered. Any injuries he’d sustained, he would’ve healed from pretty quickly, and aside from the tinge of exhaustion around his eyes, he was smooth and put together. Black jeans and a black tee, dark hair loose and brushing his shoulders, looking soft to the touch.
I licked my dry lips. Swallowed back the rising lump of emotion that decided to lodge itself in my throat. Tried to find my voice, but it wasn’t coming.
A growl sounded across the room.
Nate halted mid-step. Very slowly turned.
I’d taken Nic’s old queen-sized mattress, had it covered in a few thick layers of felt, and put off to the side like a giant dog bed; atop it sat a saber-tooth cat, ears back and body tensed, baring his teeth at the intruder. Of course I knew he was still sore in a few places and healing from his scuffles with members of the Court and couldn’t move too fast, but Nate didn’t.
“You kept it.” He all but shook his head.
“Well, given his size I’ve pegged him for a Smilodon populator and the zoo isn’t going to take him since he’s technically extinct. A circus offered to take him but then VETA would’ve banned me as a member.”
“But...” This time he did shake his head. “You kept him?”
Some girls had attack dogs. I had a saber-tooth cat. “I named him Sir Rodney Ballsgalore. If he gets up and turns around, you’ll see why.” I gave Rodney a look.
The big cat rested his head on his paws, and his short tail twitched.
Nate continued warily and then stopped three feet away, returning his attention to me. Waiting. Like I remembered at all what I should say. Luckily, I’d not prepared any brilliant speeches, so it’s not like I’d forgotten anything important. Just, you know...nouns, pronouns, verbs, prepositions.
“Yeah, so this is all the men’s stuff I’d picked up.” I averted my gaze and gestured to the box on the coffee table, sidestepping so that he’d be able to grab it in a minute. “You can, um, toss it at the Sally Ann if you want, but open the box first—there’s some papers and stuff.”
He cocked a brow in question.
“Info about a bank account I set up in your name. It’s fully separate from mine and I can’t touch it, so don’t worry. But I transferred in forty million—”
His lovely eyes widened and that got his tongue loose. “You don’t have to—”
I waved him off. “It’s yours, basically. It was the bounty on you I’d collected—a bounty for your death, which I faked. Chunk of it was Mishka’s I presume, since she was still alive, and remember you’d given her that to hire me to assassinate your father. So still technically yours, or a bunch of it, at least. I think. Actually, saying that out loud left me kind of confused, so just trust me: it’s yours.”
He waited. Watching. Granted, the only thing I liked better than boys was money, so maybe he thought I’d become a pod person or something. At last he nodded. “Thank you,” he conceded and I shrugged awkwardly.
“Whatever. It’s not like I gave you the interest too. And aside from renovating the downstairs for Rodney next week, I don’t have a lot of expenses, and you have someone else to provide for and it’s kinda hard for vampires to get jobs, so...” I cleared my throat, my gaze darting to the box again. “Papers in there too—they’re numbers of contacts I have. People who can come up with fake identification, birth certificates, wills—all that stuff. Since Mish was technically dead and you’re technically dead, I don’t know what—if anything—she would’ve had in the way of provisions, but at least this way you can fake something so he can go to school and stuff. There are people who will do it in the city and I included a few leads elsewhere if you’re looking to move, and...”
My voice trailed off, mouth dry again, and I took in a deep breath but held it since I wasn’t sure what else to say. Do I have to come out and tell you I was being psychotic and am not going to kill your poor kid? Are you moving a continent away? Could this possibly be any more awkward?
Nah, if I said that last part aloud, the God of Awkward Ex-Lover Moments would leap up and do a jig on the coffee table.
Instead I met his gaze, hoping I could assure him of the aforementioned abandoned murder plans without actually bringing up the murder plans. “So how’s Nate Jr.?”
“Devdan,” he corrected.
“Oh.” And here I’d not even known the damn kid’s name. Zara: Zero—Universe: Five thousand and twelve.
“He’s doing okay,” he said before I could ask again with the right name. His shoulders moved in a slight shrug. “Nightmares.”
Probably about insane monsters trying to kill him and his parents. Jesus, he’d be lucky if the kid grew up even half as emotionally stable as Batman. And damn Nic for inserting nerdy comic book references into my everyday thoughts.
Nate swallowed tightly, tension working through his shoulders. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Your best,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t seem good enough. I’m terrified I’ll...lose myself and hurt him.”
“You’re not your father.”
“I’ve never been in the position to test that. It’s why I never wanted kids. Supposedly neither of us did, I’d thought.”
I basically had nothing to say to that and tried not to think too hard about the other half “us” meant. If Mish didn’t want kids, why the hell would she have one? Her whole “I tried to kill you so I could protect our son” wouldn’t hold much water then. Maybe the things I saw under Arabelle’s demon’s control weren’t real, just conjured up by my mind.
But I let it go because we’d never know now what her intentions were.
“And he doesn’t know me,” he continued. “Doesn’t trust completely me, yet, I don’t think. The only parent he knew is dead.”
My eyes closed, that space between us gaping wider. Even though he’d gone back for me instead of Mishka, it was my fault. I’d gone in there so fucking sure I’d either come out a member or with some answers. I’d dragged them into it and then I’d shot her and jumpstarted whatever the fuck pulled her into another dimension. Granted, if she hadn’t stabbed me and tried to leave me behind, when I’d killed her later it probably wouldn’t’ve fulfilled some painted prophecy as it wouldn’t be done anywhere near her sister and definitely not in the black vale.
Hindsight and all that.
Still, his kid was about eleventy thousand levels of fucked up and it was my fault.
His voice broke the silence at last, shattered the tension clutching me tight. “I don’t regret anything.”
I open
ed my eyes again; he was closer, just two feet away now though I hadn’t heard him move. “Not leaving your son motherless?”
He held my gaze and I couldn’t’ve looked away again if I’d tried. “I wish, for his sake, that I didn’t have to. But that’s all. I didn’t save you over her to make amends with you, or to punish her, or in a selfish attempt to have my son without having him drawn in the middle of things. It wasn’t a conscious choice—there was no choice. Not between you and her, not between you and anyone—excepting Devdan.”
And as he moved closer still, I lost it—gave into trembling, crossed my arms at my midsection so he wouldn’t see my hands shake, and glanced away because the pressure of his startling blue eyes was too fucking much right in that moment.
His hands touched down on my arms and I shivered as the fingers of his right slid up, cupped my jaw and tilted my head up. But he didn’t speak until I looked at him again, my eyes itching with emotion I didn’t want to shed.
His expression was serious, that mix of quiet pain and strength that was stripped down, pure Nate. “I’m still dealing with a hell of a lot of confusion. Still processing, still figuring everything out. But I saved you because...”
When he trailed off, I was left with a whole lot of thoughts. Because you’re more broken than I am? Because I’m super scary? Because you feel crazy loyalty because I turned you? Because you want to screw with my head and you’re going to kill me now?
“I loved Mishka.” He swallowed hard. “Once. But I...ache for you.” The pad of his thumb ran over my cheek, under my eye, smearing a tear that had boiled over. “More than I thought I could for anyone after...everything that’s been my life. When it comes down to it, there is no choice to make: there’s just you, Zara.”
My chest quivered, heart beating erratically. Ana would’ve melted. Zara would’ve run. I...didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore. “There’s just...too fucking much.”
“I know.”
“I mean, I know what I saw. I get that things were fucked up but...I can’t,” and my voice broke—I cursed it but couldn’t stop, “get it out of my head. And it’s a pretty big fucking deal. I keep thinking if...if you didn’t sleep with her, maybe, but I don’t want to ask—I don’t want to know. Right now. Because I don’t know if I’d believe you, even if I want to, and I don’t think it would be safe for anyone if...” If I even think the worst.
The slightest smile touched his lips, flickering for a second. “I wouldn’t tell you. Not right now.”
“Really not comforting—”
“Because this needs to be rebuilt and as long as all that shit that happened matters, it’s not going to work. We spent a lot of time away from one another, building up people in our heads who didn’t entirely exist. You need to get to know who I really am, and I need to get to know who you really are.”
I swallowed. Held his gaze. “Monster included?”
“Monster included. We are not okay. We can’t...fix anything that’s already broken. I hurt you, you hurt me—you hurt my son. Whatever...was there, it’s gone. We can’t get it back. I’d rather wait and do things right.”
Jesus, if I wasn’t trying not to bawl my eyes out—which would effectively make me lose all my tough chick cred—I’d’ve been babbling about fixing things because he was right, and I wanted it back again.
I wanted him.
Of course, I didn’t know when everything that had happened last week would stop mattering to me. I was cut pretty deep. He was too—we’d both fucked up royally, and if he found he couldn’t forgive me, I wouldn’t blame him.
And it wasn’t just that. Because even though his hands on me were gentle, undemanding, and familiar, I couldn’t let my guard down. I hadn’t slept well, nightmares invading every time I tried, and even if we were over all this shit tomorrow, it wouldn’t be enough.
Though he might have my heart, my body needed to be my own for a while. When his fingers slid to the back of my head, I flinched, cursing myself. “I can’t right now—”
“I know,” he whispered, and smoothed my hair, scooping it back from my face. “I know. I can’t either. You threatened to kill my son. I have to deal with that. And you have to deal with...”
With what happened to me. He pulled me out of there. He had to know—somehow—what happened, and I was mortified at the thought. God, I hated it. Not owning myself, not feeling in control. I’d always been a little fucked up but that was Ana, not Zara. Now the pair of them were fused together and I didn’t know who the fuck I was.
I reached one hand up and swiped at my eyes. “I need...time.”
“So do I.”
“Probably a long time.”
He smiled again, softly, knowingly. Resolved. My eyes closed as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my temple. “Neither of us is getting any older.” His breath was warm against my skin, stirring my hair. “I’d say we have that.”
Nate moved away, sudden coolness touching me in his absence. He scooped up the box and tipped his head in a slight nod—not so much a goodbye as an “I’ll see you later”—and retreated for the elevator. Moments later the elevator door closed, cutting him off from view, and it rumbled its descent, taking Nate away until we were ready for whatever might come later.
Shit. That really fucking sucked. I felt like a grownup. How did people deal with this without throwing themselves off of buildings?
I rubbed at my eyes and paced the room, raked a hand through my bound hair and messed it up more, still feeling phantom traces of his touch.
Rodney let out a loud breath, settling more on his bed. He wasn’t impressed with the brief presence of testosterone that had come calling.
“You be good,” I warned him, “or I’ll take you to the vet and you’ll be Sir Rodney Ballsnomore.”
He didn’t attack me. I was betting he didn’t understand English.
My phone buzzed in my pocket; I withdrew it to see a text from Nic: CAN I COME UP?
I sighed. Elevator had quit, Nate was exiting through the parking garage, and I’d been avoiding her for days, so I replied with: YES. Stuffed the phone back in my pocket, walked to the elevator. Waited. Two minutes later I was still wiping at my irritated eyes when the elevator door opened and I was invaded.
Nic stepped through first, trailed by Peri, Ryann and Ellie at the back. Everyone was dressed bright and summery, capris, cargo shorts, and T-shirts, all in shades of yellow, green, white and light blue; even Ellie’s standard plaid shirt was short sleeved and Peri had upgraded from black to camo green. I was the single sore spot all in black and they clashed horribly with my mood.
“First, we brought a present.” Nic handed me a large brown paper bag stuffed with something bigger than my head. As I rolled it open and caught a whiff of the contents, she elaborated. “Peri knitted it.”
I pulled out a huge knitted mouse-shaped toy that smelled of catnip. I shook my head, chuckled, and tossed the thing at Rodney; his big paw snapped out and sank on the toy and he sniffed it deeply, whiskers moving as he investigated. The bag stank of catnip, so I rolled it up and tossed it to him too.
“He says thank you, I’m sure.” I eyed Peri—I wouldn’t have guessed her to be a knitter—and she glared at me in return, as if daring me to say something.
“Next, we’re going to Alchemy Red,” Nic announced with a glittery smile.
“Do you need a permission slip from me?” I said with a half-hearted attempt at rolling my eyes.
“We need you to come,” Peri barked out in a surly tone. “So get the fuck in the elevator.”
“Tempting,” I faked a smile, “but I think I’d rather sit and watch Law & Order repeats with my deadly prehistoric pet, thank you very much.”
“You’re in a bad mood,” Ellie said with a loud, drunken sigh, his arm slung heavily over Ryann’s shoulder. “We’re trying to cheer you up.”
“Then get the fuck out of my apartment.”
“But...karaoke! You can do ‘Bad Romance’. I’ll sing it w
ith you. Or ‘I Will Survive’.”
Oh god, this was bad. So, so bad.
“It’ll be fun.” Nic pleaded, her eyes growing wide. “S’il vous plait? You and Peri can start a bar fight.”
I chewed on that. It had been awhile since I’d been in a bar fight at Alchemy Red—nearly a year now. But I hedged. “I don’t want to get dressed.”
“You have clothes on.” Nic shrugged. “Or you could take them off and start a naked bar fight.”
A chuckle left my lips before I could stop it, especially when Peri gave her girlfriend an elbow in the ribs. Jesus, they were all staring at me and if I didn’t go, they’d bug the fuck out of me until I did. Maybe camp out here. And bring movies. And pizza. And then not leave. Nate was right—I did have real, actual friends.
Ugh.
I glanced at Rodney; he was on his back, huge toy clutched to his chest, teeth mashing the poor thing as he rabbit punched it. Clearly he didn’t care if I took off and we missed Sam Waterston circa 2000s.
“Whatever,” I muttered, and stuffed my feet into a pair of running shoes by the door. “I’ll try to remember to shout duck when I throw the first chair.”
While Zara Lain and the events of this novel are fictional, unfortunately sexual assault and intimate partner violence is a reality.
If you are a survivor of sexual assault, know that you aren’t alone, even though it can feel that way. There is hope and assistance waiting for you.
Visit www.rainn.org for resources
or call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1.800.656.HOPE
Speak up, speak out, and speak loudly.
Author’s Note
Exhumed Page 30
