"That's fine," he replied coldly. "You can hate me for the rest of our days, Isabelle, but you are leaving."
He released her and stepped back. His face was as cold as granite, and just as hard. His eyes were shards of black ice revealing no emotion at all. She took a deep breath to fight back the tears threatening to overflow. They were no longer tears of frustration, but of hurt, and regret.
"Go," he ordered hoarsely.
She didn't even bother to look at Jack, David, and Ethan as she lifted her chin and left the room.
"Now what?" David asked.
Stefan fought back the turmoil of emotions clawing to break free as he turned back to them. Anger was evident in every inch of their taut bodies as they met his gaze. "Now, I'm going to talk to Liam and Sera. I would suggest you rethink staying here, and leave with Isabelle."
"We're not going," Jack replied coldly.
He nodded as he turned away from them. Brian moved quickly away from the door.
"Stefan." He turned back to meet Ethan's steady stare. "When this is over, you're leaving."
He showed no sign of the hurt those words caused as he kept his face completely impassive. "Isabelle will have to come with me."
Ethan's eyes flashed as his jaw clenched. "You son of a bitch," he spat. "Why didn't you stay away from her?"
Stefan flung the door open; it slammed so forcefully against the wall the glass shattered from the window, and the plaster cracked and broke. He didn't bother to close it as he strode down the steps and into the field.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The door swung open, but Isabelle didn't bother to look at him as she threw the last of her clothes into a backpack. He hadn't come back to the room last night, a fact she was incredibly grateful for. She didn't want to talk to or see him now. Most of her anger had faded, and all she had left was a sense of loss and betrayal. If he’d told her about his past maybe she could understand. All she knew now was he’d been a killer, and judging by the amount of power he possessed, he must have enjoyed it and done a lot of it.
She couldn't forgive herself, or him. She had given everything to a man she didn't know. The worst part was there was nothing she could do about it. They were bound together now, without him she would die. She couldn't even leave, couldn't go anywhere without him. Her life was irrevocably tied to his.
"Your mother rented hotel rooms for you and your younger siblings," he informed her bluntly.
She didn't answer him as she moved into the bathroom to finish packing the rest of her things. She didn't know how to fight against the hopelessness she felt. Didn't know how to change what had become her future. She still loved him, she truly did, but she could never trust him again. She didn't want to live the rest of her life like that. It was far too long of a time to be with someone she didn't trust, and who hurt her this badly. It was so very unfair.
She had never wanted this, and now, when she’d surrendered everything to him, she was acutely reminded of all the reasons she was so terrified of it in the first place. She cursed fate, and the world, for throwing her together with someone like him. Why couldn't she be stuck with someone who was honest, and good, and caring, instead of a liar and a killer?
Tears filled her eyes as she threw her toothbrush and hairbrush into a plastic zip case before heading into the bedroom. He had closed the door and was now leaning against it. His eyes were hooded as he watched her. She threw the travel case into the bottom pocket of her bag and closed it. She lifted it up and finally turned to face him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.
"You didn't need to know." She snorted as she shook her head and turned to gaze out the window. No, he wouldn't think she would need to know. "It would make no difference anyway. You are mine, Isabelle, for better or worse. We will always be together. I tried to leave you, but I couldn't, and we will die without each other. Would it make a difference if I had told you?"
She turned back to him. "Yes. At least you would have been honest with me, now—"
"Now nothing," he interrupted.
"You hurt me!" Isabelle closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself. "That is the difference.”
Stefan closed his eyes against the grief flooding him. He’d stayed away from her last night because he didn't want to see her hatred, but the hatred seemed to be gone now, and in its place was something even more painful to him. However, there was nothing he could do to stop or change it. He had tried to distance himself from his past; he should have known it would be impossible, that it would catch up with him.
"I cannot change anything."
"No, you can't, and unfortunately neither can I." She fought to keep herself under control. "I wish you had never come here, and yet..."
Her voice trailed off as she lowered her head.
"So do I, Isabelle, so do I."
She rapidly fought back the tears wanting to fall. His words wounded her more than she ever thought they would. She had found such happiness with him, had known a time of true contentment, and now it was all gone. She wasn't entirely sure she would change him coming here. Until he arrived, she hadn't known how lonely she was but never had she been this hurt before.
"I will do everything I can to keep you safe. I never thought this would happen, but there is nothing I can do about it now, and for that, I am truly sorry. You will never know how sorry."
She snorted as she shook her head. "No, I suppose I won't."
"After this is over we're leaving, Isabelle."
"What?" Her head shot up as her mouth dropped open. "I'm not leaving my home!"
"I'm no longer welcome here."
"But..."
Tears spilled down her cheeks as her words trailed off. It didn't matter; if he didn't stay then she couldn't. The overwhelming sense of loss descending threatened to swallow her whole. She'd lost everything she cared about in less than a day, and she couldn't help but blame him for it.
He couldn't stay away from her any longer; the sorrow she radiated was more than he could bear. He attempted to grab her, but she instantly backed away as she shook her head violently.
"Don't touch me!" she cried. "Don't ever touch me again!"
His hands fell limply back to his sides as he took a step back. "You'll have to forgive me eventually, Isabelle."
"I'll never forgive you!" she spat. "You've taken everything from me! If you think I'll ever forgive you, you're insane! I wish I never met you! I wish..."
Her voice trailed off as sobs racked her body. He reached for her again, but she quickly avoided his grasp.
"You will forgive me," he commanded as if that would work. "Now, let's go."
She shook her head in denial. Stefan's patience frayed as he took her arm. She cried out angrily and tried to rip free, but he refused to relinquish his hold as he pulled her behind him.
"Let go of me!" she shouted.
He spun around and grasped hold of her chin as he jerked her head up. "I will never let go of you!" he hissed. "You better get used to that, and realize nothing is ever going to separate us!"
The rage radiating from him shook her, but she refused to back down, refused to cower like she wished to. He was a killer, and they had invited him into their homes, into their hearts. Her family accepted him, considered him one of them, but they’d all been betrayed.
"It's not by choice!" she shouted at him.
"Maybe not now, but it was."
"That was before I knew you were a monster!"
Stefan clenched his jaw and refused to respond to her. Let her think what she would, he knew the truth, and he would be damned if he took the time to explain it to her. She had made her decision about him, and if she wasn't going to give him the benefit of the doubt, then he wasn't going to lower himself by telling her the truth about everything. Or Ethan either. Liam, Sera, and the others were a little more understanding and listened to him, but not those two.
"Let's go," he roughly pulled her forward.
Her eyes spit violet sparks
of fury at him as she tilted her chin, ripped her arm free, and hurried down the hall.
* * *
Isabelle tossed her backpack onto the bed and slumped down. The hotel was cold and dreary compared to the warm comfort of her room. Every part of her felt deflated and beat. She felt completely hollow and alone. Vicky and Abby placed their bags down and plopped onto the large bed across from hers.
"Isabelle—" Abby started.
"I don't want to talk about it."
She kicked her shoes off and slumped back on the bed. The sun was beginning to set, but she took no joy in the brilliant colors streaking across the darkening sky. She instinctively wanted to reach out for Stefan, but she refused to let herself do it. He had kept her shut out since last night; she didn't want to meet with the cold wall he’d erected around his mind again. The possibility he could be killed, that she may never see him again had taken firm root. Her concern for him only added to her misery.
"Isabelle." She turned slightly. Her mother stood in front of the door; Vicky and Abby were gone. She was so absorbed in her unhappiness she never heard them leave. "We need to talk."
She braced herself as she pushed herself up. She had been waiting for her mother to confront her about Stefan, waiting to hear her censure of him and to tell her that he was no longer welcome at their home.
"I'm sorry about all of this," she mumbled.
"Why? You don’t need to be."
Isabelle shrugged as she played with a loose thread on the tattered bedspread. "I know you must be angry."
"No Isabelle, you're angry, not me."
Isabelle's head shot up. "What?"
Her mother walked over to sit across from Isabelle on the other bed. "I love you sweetie, but you are very judgmental sometimes—"
"I am not!" she protested.
"Yes, you are. You never fed from humans, you don't believe in it, but you censure those around you who do—"
"I do not!"
"Will you let me finish," her mother said impatiently. Isabelle locked her jaw and nodded briskly. "I know you disapprove of everyone else doing it; you've said it more than a few times. You believe they shouldn't have to, but they've never harmed anyone, and yet you still disapprove of it—"
"They can use bags, like me."
"Isabelle, let me speak!" her mother snapped. Isabelle's eyes widened in astonishment; her mother hadn't yelled at her since she was a child. "As I was saying, you are judgmental. It is their lives, Isabelle, they aren't hurting anyone, and it is in our nature. It's the way we survive. I've never fed off someone because your father has supplied me, but I would if I needed or wanted to," she added when Isabelle opened her mouth to protest.
"They want to," she continued. "Because they prefer it. It is their right to do what makes them happy, as long as they don't hurt anyone—"
"But Stefan did!" she cried, unable to stop herself.
Her mother clenched her jaw as she took a deep breath. "He killed our kind, Isabelle, not ones like us, but the wrong ones, ones like you met at the club. Didn't he tell you this?"
Isabelle wasn't going to admit he had told her, but she hadn't seen the difference.
"I'm going to take your silence to mean he did tell you, and you didn't want to hear it, or you never gave him a chance to explain," her mom said.
"He said something like that," she admitted reluctantly.
Her mother sniffed and shook her head. "Your father and The Stooges have killed our kind, and they did it for me. Were they wrong?"
"Did they do it just for power?" Isabelle retorted.
"No, they didn't. Are you so sure that is the only reason Stefan did it?"
Isabelle's jaw clenched as she met her mother's cloudy eyes. "That's what Brian said."
"Yeah, and I'm sure he always tells the truth. Brian isn't like Stefan, and you know it."
"And how would you know that?" Isabelle demanded.
"Stefan told me you and Ethan could sense something wrong with Brian, just like you could sense it about the ones outside the club. I can't do that; neither can your father, or The Stooges. The only thing we can figure is it’s because the two of you were born vampires, your inherent abilities are stronger than ours. You can detect them somehow, yet you sensed nothing about Stefan."
"How do you know that?" she demanded.
Her mother frowned at her. "Because you would have said something to one of us, or Ethan would have, or one of the others would have told us. Every one of your siblings can sense something wrong with Brian. None of them felt it about Stefan, did you know that?"
Isabelle was beginning to feel like a chastised child, and she wasn't relishing the feeling. "No," she mumbled petulantly.
"You judged him too quickly, Isabelle."
"He killed a man!" she yelled.
Her mother clasped her hands tiredly before her. "Your father killed a man; does that make you dislike him?"
"He did it to protect you!"
"Stefan killed a hunter, Isabelle. It was either him or that man. Who would you rather was alive?"
Isabelle closed her eyes as tears of self-disgust welled up in her eyes. Was her mother right, had she judged Stefan too harshly?
"Why would he kill our kind if it wasn't for power?" she asked in a strangled voice.
"You'll have to ask him."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
She knew her mother wasn't going to tell her any more than that. She opened her eyes and wiped the tears from them. "If you were satisfied with his answer, why did you tell him he had to leave?"
"I didn't, and neither did your father or The Stooges."
"Then why does he want to leave?" she demanded.
Her mother shook her head. "I have two sets of twins, Isabelle, but neither of them are as alike as you and Ethan. Both of you are set in your ways, your judgments of people, and you will do anything to make sure the other isn't hurt. Your temper also gets the better of you both on many occasions."
"Oh," Isabelle said. "But he brought these vampires to our home!" she cried, unwilling to be so completely wrong. "He has driven us out of our homes and placed all of us in danger!"
"Brian did that."
"Brian is his friend!"
"Was his friend. They haven't been friends for a while, but you probably didn't take the time to learn that either."
Isabelle hung her head in shame, and despair rushed through her. She recalled the things she’d said, the things she’d done, and she hated herself. She was beginning to realize she may have completely misjudged the entire situation. She’d said she would never forgive Stefan; now she was starting to wonder if he would ever forgive her. However, he had lied to her and deliberately kept his past from her.
"You trust him?" she asked in a choked voice.
"I do."
Tears flowed down her face. If her mother trusted him, and Stefan had told her everything, then she was completely wrong. Oh God, he must hate her! She hated herself. "Why didn't he tell me whatever it was he told you?"
"Did you give him a chance?"
Isabelle shook her head as tears streaked down her face and she began to sob. "He must hate me!" she almost wailed.
"He could never hate you."
"I told him I hated him!"
Her mother came to sit beside her; she rested her hand on her shoulder. "You were mad at him, confused, and blindsided. He'll understand."
"And if he doesn't?"
"He will. He loves you, Isabelle, he knows all your faults, and all your good points already. He knows you anger fast, and you just as quickly get over it. He will understand."
"I don't understand," she whispered. "I love him with everything I am. Yet, I was so quick to throw that all aside when I thought he’d lied to me, and in a way, he did lie to me. He kept a lot hidden from me."
"You need to talk to him. Sometimes the past is just something people only want to forget. You need to put your judgments aside and realize everyone has faults, even you."
"I
know I do," she whispered dejectedly.
"And you have many excellent qualities too, don't ever forget that. Stefan loves you for all of them. Just like you love him for all his faults and qualities, and I'm sure he has many too."
"He is bossy, arrogant, highhanded, and commanding," she mumbled. "He didn't even consider letting me stay at home."
"Of course not," her mother replied with a laugh. "Your father had my bag packed before I could count to ten. In this situation, it's not even worth putting up a fight. Their main concern is our safety. You would have better luck talking to a wall than you would of changing their minds. You have to pick your battles; this is not one you’ll win, trust me on that fact."
"And apparently, neither was my last one," she whispered.
Her mother brushed Isabelle's hair off her forehead. "No, but we all make mistakes. Everything will be all right, you'll see."
"I have to go talk to him. I need to see him." She suddenly needed him with an intensity that shook her.
"You can't go tonight, but you can go tomorrow, okay?" her mom said.
Isabelle glanced out at the dark sky. "What if those vampires come tonight though?"
"Then we can all return home tomorrow."
"What if something happens to him?" she whispered. "What if I lose him, and one of the last things I ever told him was I hated him?"
"Nothing will happen to him; he's stronger than most."
"What about the others?"
Her mom's hand tightened on Isabelle's shoulder. "They won't interfere, not unless they have to. They know their limits, besides your father knows I'll kill him if he gets himself hurt." Isabelle laughed as she dropped her head to her mother's shoulder. "It will be all right," she promised.
Isabelle prayed she was right. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to search out Stefan. If she couldn't see him, then she could at least connect with him and let him know she was sorry. She felt the brush of his presence, but that was all. He still had her shutout. Tears streaked her face as she tried to figure out why he wouldn't let her back in. She worried her mother was wrong, that he would never forgive her.
The Vampire Awakenings Bundle: Books 1-5 Page 54