by Anna Santos
“I’m the one who decides for whom I live or die. You don’t have anything to do with my life and my decisions. Do you have any idea of how long I’ve been looking for that parchment? Or how long ago I decided what I wanted to do with my life? Did you honestly think you could stop me by disregarding my decision and my intentions? Is that your idea of being true to your word? You told me that you would let me perform the ritual. Were you lying to me, so you could tear my world apart? So, you could have your hands on my parchment and use it for your own dark intentions?”
I was losing it, but she was totally amazing. I should calm her down and explain that it wasn’t my intention to hurt her and decide anything for her. Maybe it was… I didn’t want her dead. She had a lot to live for. She was immortal, she could find love again.
Who am I kidding?
She was a rejected soul. Jo had her second chance and was destined to go to Hell. I was being selfish because I didn’t want to lose her and wanted her to be happy.
“Are you listening to anything that I’m telling you?” she asked, annoyed.
“Not really,” I confessed.
“Then what are you thinking about? And why am I wasting my time on you?”
“I’m trying to figure out how someone could reject you,” I whispered, holding on to her arms and making her stop moving.
She went quiet, and her eyes shone with tears.
“But he didn’t,” I mumbled, remembering what she told me. “He used you. He tried to manipulate you to steal for him, but he didn’t want to lose you. You feel guilty for Oliver’s death, but you told him to reject you, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“It wasn’t your fault. His death wasn’t your fault.”
“Stop it,” she ordered, pulling her arms away. “You aren’t going to convince me. I had enough time to think about what happened and what I did. Do you think you are going to persuade me to forget about Oliver after all I did to save him? And why do you even care about what happens to me? I’m a vampire—a deceiving and bloodsucking parasite.”
I felt ashamed of what I had said her. She was throwing it back in my face, making me feel stupid for being so coldhearted and for thinking that I would solve anything by trapping her. What was I going to do with her after? Free her after the day of the ritual had passed, so she could live her life for another year and hate my guts? Also, I had given her my word that I would let her perform the ritual. I may be reluctant in letting her disappear at that moment, but when she first appeared to me with that request, the only thought I had was that it was a good thing that she was going to save one of mine in exchange for her life. Now her life was much more important to me than the life of some gargoyle man that I had never met before.
“Why do you care?” she questioned me.
“I don’t know. I just do,” I muttered, wanting to say something that would make more sense but was unable to. “Please, Jo, don’t be mad at me.” I brought her close to me and gave up on the urge to hug her and soothe her anger. She was shaking, almost breaking into tears.
“Why do you hurt people like that?” She hid her face against my shoulder.
“Aren’t you afraid?” I asked, thinking about the brave thing that she was going to do. “You are going to disappear,” I whispered, realizing that it was the same fate that could happen to me.
“I used to be afraid of a lot of things. Now, the only thing that I’m afraid of is living,” she murmured, clutching my shirt. Her hands brushed my skin, and her words touched my heart. “You can’t understand. You’ve lived for how long, sixty years?”
“Sixty-eight. It’s been more than fifty years since my curse was activated.”
“You are still a baby. You spent more than half of your existence turned into a rock or wishing for a mate you knew you would find someday. You haven’t truly lived.”
“She didn’t want me,” I reminded her.
“But you have another chance. You can wait for someone else.”
“I can.”
“I don’t have any other options. I blew my chance. I sentenced Oliver to be an eternal statue because I wasn’t strong enough to deny my feelings for my soul-mate and accept Oliver’s kind heart. I tried to love Oliver. Once I found out about my soul-mate’s twisted plan, I tried to accept him. It wasn’t enough. He was brave enough to face the trial to stay with me and save me from Hell, but I didn’t love him enough. When I die, I’ll go to Hell. Yet, he couldn’t even choose where he would go after death. Is that fair for him?”
“And if it doesn’t work?” I caressed her hair.
“Then I tried. I did everything I could to fix my mistake. I’m sure it will work.”
“But Jo,” I complained, holding her face in my hands and making her stare into my eyes. I felt my heart clenching, and my voice trembled when I said, “Jo, I don’t want you to cease to exist.”
Tears fell from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and crashing against her tantalizing red lips.
Before I could understand what, I was doing, my lips were touching hers and tasting the salt in her tears and the sweetness of her mouth. I surrendered, closing my eyes, and a wave of heat consumed me entirely. Bringing her closer, I sank my tongue into her mouth as my entire body ignited with passion. I lusted for her. It was incoherent how much I wanted to kiss and touch her to make her pain go away. Our lips played, moved, and tasted each other’s. Silence surrounded us, and goosebumps spread throughout my skin, making me even more eager to taste her and mold her against my body. I wanted to keep this woman in my arms and never let her go.
Chapter EIGHT
ARIA
Philippe was true to his word. He brought me to his home, to his kitchen more specifically, and sat me on a chair. Then, he cooked for me. I spent some time just staring at him. I liked looking at him and seeing him smile. I loved when he talked sweetly to me.
Still, I was restless. I was expecting some violent noise and an army of crazy specters to invade his home to take me away from him. I was becoming paranoid. However, Philippe didn’t seem worried at all. He was relaxed, chopping mushrooms and preparing me something to eat. It smelled delicious, and it was stirring my appetite. It was also improving my mood as I was finding myself smiling at him every time he glanced at me and asked me if I was okay. He was peaceful to be around. I didn’t trust him entirely, though. He helped me, he seemed sorry, but there was always that apprehension that he could change his mind and wish me gone again. Evil Philippe was nothing like the sweet and caring Philippe, but he was there, inside of him, maybe hidden or merely silenced. He could still come out and hurt me. I had no intention of…
“Are you okay?” Philippe’s question woke me up from my thoughts.
“Yes,” I mumbled. “I’ve told you already like one hundred times since we got here.”
“You seem worried.”
“I’m just…”
“Thinking about something that is making you sad,” he declared. “I don’t like when you are gloomy. Come here and help me out.”
I hesitated.
He motioned for me to get up and join him near the stove. There was a frying pan there and a bowl of batter to pour in and make a crepe.
“I have no talent for cooking,” I warned him. “I even manage to burn eggs.”
“Eggs aren’t that easy to cook.”
I grinned. “Why do you like to cook?”
“It relaxes me. Now, I’m going to make you a salty crepe. Then, you are going to choose whatever filling you want, and you are going to roll it and fry it on both sides.”
“I really don’t want to burn down your kitchen,” I whispered, staring at the pan as if it was my worst enemy.
He chuckled. “It won’t bite you. Just relax and take your time. It won’t burn you, either. Look at the crepe,” he requested, pouring the liquid into the pan and watching it become a round slice of white bread. “What do you want to put inside?”
“Mushrooms, cheese…bacon… I don’t know, what el
se is good?”
“Some fresh herbs and I’ll add some béchamel,” Philippe suggested.
I nodded, happy with the choice. He went to get the ingredients while I stared at the pan, a bit nervous and hungry.
“Add the ingredients you want,” he instructed me.
I did what he told me, adding extra cheese.
“I love cheese,” I said, watching him pour the béchamel inside.
“Now, loosen the crepe with a spatula and close it gently, pressing the borders and carefully turning it around,” he instructed, giving me the spatulas.
I looked at the pan and then at him, hesitating.
“Okay, I’ll show you how you can do it. You’ll make the second one by yourself,” he said tenderly.
I nodded, almost gulping for air. I was probably red as a tomato. He made me nervous, and I felt clumsy. Still, I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying the attention he was giving me.
Philippe stepped behind me and grabbed my hands. Making me hold the spatulas, he leaned forward, touching my back and nestling his chin on my shoulder. He moved my arms, and I felt like I was going to pass out right there. He smelled good and was warm. I had been craving contact since we got to his home.
As my legs gave in, I fought to stay on my feet and endure the torture of his touch. He seemed relaxed, moving my hands so I would close the crepe, flipping it on the pan and letting it cook a bit longer so the cheese would melt, and the mushrooms absorbed the flavors.
Even when the crepe was done, and I needed to wait to transfer it from the pan to the plate, Philippe didn’t step back to release me. He stood behind me, hugging me by the waist and smelling my hair. I was afraid of moving and tensed. I was in a dilemma since I shouldn’t let him embrace me and act like it was a natural thing between us. However, I didn’t seem to be strong enough to want him to let me go. I should tell him to let me go. We had kissed twice already. I couldn’t deny that I wanted him around me, close enough to touch. Yet we had to talk and clear things up between us. We needed boundaries. He had to understand that I wanted to go home, and he wasn’t going to stop me even if I was stupid enough to love him after all that had happened.
I got startled when the bell rang.
Philippe moved, holding me against his chest while he slid the crepe onto a plate. “I’ll see who it is. Don’t worry, you are safe here.”
I nodded, feeling cold when his body let go of mine, and he went to the intercom.
Turning off the stove, I spun around to face him. “Who is it?”
“It’s Camille. She must be bringing you your clothes.”
I blew out a breath. “I want to talk to her.”
He nodded and pressed a button that opened the first door and allowed Camille to enter his house. She had to follow the corridor to the door that gave access to the living room. He couldn’t go out when the sun was shining. Leading his visitors to his living room was the safest way.
“Can I?” I asked, unsure if he would let me or not.
“Of course, you can. You don’t even need to ask,” he answered, showing me his hand for me to hold.
I followed him to the living room.
“Camille,” I greeted once she opened the door. I stopped my rushed decision to jump on her. She was pulling something heavy along the way. “What’s that?”
“Your clothes. There are three more suitcases outside. You have lots of stuff,” she complained as she puffed and fixed her hair.
“Whose fault is that?” I argued, folding my arms.
Camille pouted for a bit only to smile widely. “You can thank me later,” she added cheerfully, stepping outside to get another suitcase.
“I would help, but I can’t go outside,” Philippe said, appearing guilty.
“We can manage ourselves,” I said, following Camille.
Philippe sped to me and grabbed me before I could.
“No. Someone can grab you outside,” he said, lifting me off the floor and bringing me to the living room. “Only when I can go outside with you. I’m sorry, but…I don’t trust anyone.”
“Not even Camille?”
“She’s your friend, but she’s an angel. She… I don’t know. I wouldn’t keep you here if you wanted to go back to Cedric’s place. Do you want to go back there?”
“I don’t,” I replied honestly. “The idea suffocates me.”
“Then we need to be careful. We still don’t know if Kayden has other allies who may want to kidnap you, so Cedric exchanges Kayden for you.”
I hadn’t thought about that possibility. Philippe wasn’t as relaxed as I had thought. He had been thinking about a lot of possibilities, apparently.
“What smells so good?” Camille asked, putting down two more suitcases and staring at us with narrowed eyes. “Am I interrupting something again?”
I blushed from head to toe. “Of course not. Philippe was saying I shouldn’t go outside because…”
“It isn’t safe,” Camille added. “He’s right. There’s only one more suitcase, and Philippe can take them to your new room. She has her own room, doesn’t she?” Camille asked, directing her question at Philippe.
“She can choose whichever bedroom she wants. I have plenty,” he stated, putting me down and fixing my hair.
I felt shy. He was being gentle, but his actions were embarrassing me to death.
Camille had teleported outside and reappeared again.
“Last one and I closed the door,” Camille said, dropping it on the floor and making a tired face. “I need water and food,” she declared, closing her eyes to smell the air. “Seriously, what’s that smell?” she asked a second time, probably wanting us to invite her to the kitchen.
“Philippe was making me something to eat. Do you want to join us?” I asked, grinning at her and noticing Philippe’s panic. I almost laughed. He didn’t want her there.
“I’m her friend. Get used to seeing me around,” Camille snapped at him, probably reading his grimace and making me giggle.
I stopped abruptly. “What do you mean? I won’t stay here for long,” I told her.
Does she think I was going to move in with Philippe? Does she believe that Philippe and I are a couple?
She had seen us kissing! Of course, she thought we were together.
“So, you aren’t going to… You know…”
“What do you mean?” I asked, staring at Philippe who looked embarrassed for the first time. “We aren’t a couple,” I stated out loud for him to understand it, too.
“But you dismissed Cedric. You asked him to let you go.”
“Camille, I don’t know what you are thinking, but I didn’t break up with Cedric to be with Philippe. I broke up with him because I want to go home.”
“Okay,” she said, but she didn’t seem convinced. “Can we eat now?”
“We were in the kitchen. Follow me,” I requested, giving up on the persuasive speech and motioning for her to follow me.
Philippe joined us.
Camille ran to the plate as soon as she saw it. She took it and sat at the table, picking up the cutlery and starting to eat.
“It’s delicious,” she mumbled. “Who made this?”
“She just ate yours,” Philippe said as he ran his fingers through his hair.
I shrugged.
“I’ll make you another one. Sit down,” he requested, leading me to a chair and helping me sit.
I can get used to this.
“Philippe cooks?” Camille asked, staring at me.
“Yes, he does. He is full of surprises, isn’t he?” I said, amused by her shocked face.
“You’re so lucky! I wished Jacob could cook. Can I borrow Philippe for a week?”
“Stop teasing him. He has feelings,” I defended him and looked back. He was smiling while making my crepe.
“Philippe, can you make me another one? They are delicious.” Camille asked politely.
“Sure,” he said.
A weird silence fell over us while Camille was devouring th
e food.
“Do you want help unpacking your clothes?” Camille asked, after a while.
“No. I’m not going to stay here for long,” I stated, looking at the plate that Philippe put in front of me.
“I’ll make a new crepe for Camille. Afterward, I’ll choose a bedroom where you can stay,” Philippe said as he rubbed his hands against his pants with hopeful eyes.
I simply nodded.
“So, you aren’t sleeping together,” Camille teased with a wicked smile as Philippe walked to the door.
I snapped my eyes to her. “I swear that I’ll pull all your feathers out, one by one, if you try to be funny like that again.”
She stopped eating, leaving the fork up in mid-air.
I had no idea how Philippe reacted to her teasing words. I was too embarrassed to even look at him at that precise moment.
With widened eyes, she placed her hand against her chest with a shocked expression. “You wouldn’t. That hurts. My feathers are sacred. Don’t even joke about it.”
I looked at the stove and saw Philippe cooking. I relaxed and studied my food.
“Why aren’t you upset with me?”
Camille was taking the fact that I wanted to leave Cedric rather well.
“You are my friend. I have to support your decisions. Even if you aren’t going to become my queen anymore, and I’ll have to come here to visit you.”
“I’ll leave for home as soon as I’m normal,” I told her.
“I can teleport. You could move to the moon, and I would visit you there,” she said, happily.
I smiled. “I would like to continue being your friend, but I’ll understand if you forget about me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You are an angel, and I’m not going to be an angel anymore.”
“Don’t you want to be friends with an angel? Can you imagine the benefits that are included in being my friend? I can take you shopping, or we could travel to any place in the world that you would like to visit. I could bore you to death with my complaints about Jacob. I can be myself around you without having to lie about what I am,” she stated.