Kara held her breath, her heart racing. “The black eyes? The shadows?”
Zosime pointed at the statue, at the dark half. “Darkness has the Eyes of Shadows. Light has the Eyes of Luminescence. You saw the Eyes of Shadows.”
Kara swallowed. “Are the Eyes of Luminescence red, by any chance?”
“White,” Zosime corrected. “Like one of the hottest stars. It’s believed that the Eyes of Luminescence would blind you, if you looked directly into them.”
Kara lifted her eyebrows. “Like the sun.”
“Exactly like the sun,” Zosime said. A smile tilted at her lips. “As for the red eyes—those are called the Eyes of the Eklektos. Unified Light and Darkness.”
That only caused Kara’s heart to skip more. “Then,” she paused, exhaling slowly, “what you’re trying to say is…the reason these people bow to Rose…the reason they’re all so concerned about her—it’s because they believe she’s a god.”
“The Vessel of the gods, technically,” Zosime corrected, “but yes.”
Kara shook her head. “That’s…impossible. She’s twenty-four years old.”
“The gods have no concept of time,” Zosime said. “Not in the way that humans and vampires do, anyway. They’re not constricted to any linear timeline.”
“I don’t believe it,” Kara said, but even as she said it, she felt the words sinking in, the pieces coming together. It made too much sense. “Rose is…Rose.”
“Yes, she is still Rose,” Zosime said, “but she’s also Light and Darkness.”
“Light and Darkness,” Kara repeated. “Why have I only seen Darkness?”
“It’s wise to be concerned by that,” Zosime said, “because it definitely denotes an imbalance. And as I said before, Light and Darkness must be unified.”
“Or the world ends,” Kara said, her eyes wide. “That’s what you said.”
“That’s why I’m telling you the truth,” Zosime said. She leaned in closer, whispering to her, “Because you know what’s happening to her. You’ve seen her.”
Kara’s light blue eyes flashed with fear. “Something’s happening to her?”
“You’ve seen Darkness,” Zosime reminded her. “There’s an imbalance.”
“Rose is kind and selfless,” Kara said. “She wouldn’t destroy the world.”
“I’ve seen it, Kara,” Zosime said, suddenly serious. “The world will end.”
Kara straightened, her face twisting with disbelief. “No. That can’t be.”
“You and I are the only ones who know about this,” Zosime assured her. “As far as Princess Myrinne knows, Light and Darkness are still unified in Rose.”
“You can’t tell her,” Kara growled. She stepped closer, pressing the edge of her dagger against Zosime’s throat. “You can’t tell anyone.” Her muscles were tight, her fangs bared. She was clearly panicking. “They’d hurt her—or kill her.”
“To save the world,” Zosime reminded her. She sighed, her brown gaze softening. “I mean her no harm, warrior. She doesn’t need protection from me.”
Kara stumbled back, dropping her dagger to her side. She looked down, her light blue eyes darting, as she tried to calm herself. “Rose is trying to save the world, not end it,” she said breathlessly. “She’s not going to cause an apocalypse.”
“She’ll save a lot of lives,” Zosime agreed, “but in the end, Darkness will reign, and she’ll bring about Destruction and Death—because that’s what she is.”
Kara shook her head in disbelief. “No. I don’t believe it. I barely believed in my own gods. I sure as hell don’t believe that the woman I love is a goddess.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I mean, there are certain moments when I am compelled to…er…worship her, but…” Her lips curved into a sly smile. “That’s different.”
Zosime giggled at the strangely timed innuendo. “Yes, that is different.”
Kara’s smile faded. “Your vision—you’re sure you saw the apocalypse?”
“A storm like no other,” Zosime confirmed. “Destruction and Death.”
Kara’s expression hardened, as if she’d reached a decision of some kind. “And you haven’t told anyone?” she asked again. “Not the princess? Not Ligeia?”
“I thoroughly studied the future of each decision and chose accordingly,” Zosime said. “Telling you—and only you—was the only option with any hope.”
“Good,” Kara said. “Don’t tell anyone. This stays between us. Got it?”
Zosime lifted a dark eyebrow. “You’ll hide it from the woman you love?”
Kara looked away, dread unfurling throughout her chest. On one hand, she desperately did not want to screw up her relationship with Rose. She’d never loved anyone the way she loved Rose, and she couldn’t imagine going back to a life without her—a life of meaningless flings and an aching hole in her chest, left by Rose. Lying to Rose would ruin everything. But…on the other hand, well, like she’d said, Kara couldn’t imagine life without Rose. “If I tell her,” she whispered, “she might not believe it. I don’t even know if I believe it. But what if she does?”
Zosime watched her curiously. “What do you fear would happen, then?”
“Rose wouldn’t let the world end,” Kara said easily. “She’d kill herself.”
Zosime twirled the sash of her robe around her hand, watching it, instead of Kara. “You think Rose would try to end her life?” she asked. “Is she suicidal?”
“She’s depressed and grieving,” Kara said. “She has a very low sense of self-worth and a very high opinion of others. She would do anything to save us.”
Zosime’s dark gaze shifted up to meet Kara’s. “If that’s true,” she asked slowly, “shouldn’t you let her? You’ll die. We’ll all die—if Rose doesn’t save us.”
Kara stared at the floor, her dark hair falling around her face, as she tried to process it all. It was absolutely ridiculous to believe it—that Rose was anything other than a vampire, that she was a goddess, that she was going to end the world.
Kara couldn’t think of anything more unbelievable than what she’d just heard. And yet, it made sense. It answered questions that she hadn’t dared to ask.
She knew that it wouldn’t have been a difficult decision for anyone else. Anyone else wouldn’t have considered lying. Anyone else would think that what Kara was considering now—risking everyone else’s lives for the one she loved—was evil. But Kara wasn’t anyone else. She was a liar. And she’d always been evil.
Rose believed Kara was good, but…Kara was about to prove her wrong.
Zosime seemed to sense something. “I see you’ve reached a decision.”
Kara stepped back, her boot thudding harshly against the floor. Her light blue eyes widened, flashing with fear. “I have to go. Just…don’t speak of this.”
Zosime watched, as Kara fled from the room. “I hope I chose correctly.”
14
Once a Liar
Kara slipped quietly into their bedroom, easing the door closed behind her, careful not to make any noise. Then, she turned and froze, as she made eye-contact with a pair of beautifully bright, blue eyes. “Rose,” she breathed, her heart skipping. She dropped her hands to her side. “I assumed you’d be asleep by now.”
Rose sat on the bed, the blanket draped around her hips, watching Kara curiously. “I couldn’t have slept, even if I’d wanted to. I was worried about you.”
“There was no need,” Kara said, avoiding Rose’s gaze, as she crossed the room. She unbuttoned her pants. “I sneak in and out of places all of the time.”
Rose watched as Kara undressed. She looked so beautiful in the shadows, her fair skin soft and luminescent, her tattoos dark and lovely, her hair silky, and as dark as ink. Rose felt so captivated, so enthralled, by her that she almost forgot her worries, but something about the crease of Kara’s brows unsettled her. “What happened?” she asked softly, as Kara stepped out of her pants. “Did you find it?”
“No,” Kara lied, her shoulders sti
ff, her gaze on the floor, “I didn’t.”
Rose was silent for a while. Then, finally, she said, “Did anyone see you?”
“No,” Kara said, as she placed her folded clothes on the edge of the bed.
An even longer silence passed between them. Painful tension filled the air between them, until each breath felt labored. “Kara,” Rose sighed, after several minutes passed. She spoke quietly—practically whispering, “Why are you lying?”
Kara’s shoulders stiffened. She looked at Rose, her light blue eyes intense and full of pain. “You’re the only one,” she whispered, “who sees through me.”
“Maybe you don’t lie as well,” Rose said, “when it’s me you’re lying to.”
Kara stared at Rose, afraid to speak or even breathe. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you don’t want to lie to me,” Rose said, “because you love me.”
Kara looked away. “It’s because I love you that I can’t tell you the truth.”
Rose leaned forward. “Kara,” she whispered, worry twisting at her chest. She’d never seen Kara so distressed, so…terrified. “What is it? What happened?”
Kara squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t tell you,” she breathed. “I won’t.”
Disappointment dropped like a weight in Rose’s stomach. “You won’t?”
Kara opened her eyes, her light blue gaze now as cold as ice. “I refuse.”
Rose nodded, looking down at the blanket that she’d nearly shredded out of pure anxiety. She kept forgetting her own strength. She was too young—too stupid. As tears welled up in her eyes, she felt the fabric tear beneath her fingers.
Kara’s perfect façade instantly dissolved, as she sensed Rose’s emotions. She’d expected anger. She’d hoped for anger. But that’s not what she felt at all.
No, this was a darker feeling. A twisting, nauseating feeling.
Self-loathing.
Kara didn’t hesitate. She hopped onto the bed and pulled the torn fabric from Rose’s hands. Then, she cupped her hands around Rose’s face and lifted it, until Rose’s gaze met her own. When she saw the glassy wetness of Rose’s eyes, her chest twisted in anguish. “Rose, no,” she breathed. Her lips trembled, as she fought to contain her own emotions. “You’re supposed to hate me, not yourself.”
Rose’s brows furrowed, as she saw the pain in Kara’s beautifully intense eyes. She reached out, brushing her fingers over Kara’s arms, wanting to soothe that pain somehow, even as she drowned in her own. “You want me to hate you?”
“Yes,” Kara pleaded. “Hate me—not yourself. Hate me for hurting you.”
Rose pursed her lips, desperately trying not to cry. “I couldn’t hate you, Kara,” she said. She curled her hand around Kara’s arm. “I could never hate you.”
Kara leaned forward on her knees, tilting her face closer to Rose’s. With a pained sigh, she moved her hands. She brushed her fingers through Rose’s hair, pulling Rose against her chest. She breathed out another sigh against Rose’s hair, as Rose gripped her shirt. “But I deserve it. Not you. You did nothing wrong.”
“I’m always doing things wrong,” Rose said. “Always failing everyone.”
“You’re depressed, love,” Kara sighed. “You’re lying to yourself, telling yourself terrible things.” She kissed the top of Rose’s head. “But they’re not true.”
Rose pulled back, extracting herself from Kara’s arms. She looked away, her chest aching. “How could I know what’s true? When everyone lies to me?”
Kara pursed her lips, guilt twisting at her face. She reached out for Rose, only to have Rose pull away. “Rose, please,” she said, following as Rose climbed out of the bed. “You’re feeling so much right now. Let me comfort you, at least.”
Rose crossed her arms around herself, exhaling heavily, as she waited for her pulse to slow. She could barely make sense of her pain anymore. It all blended together, each time something new happened. All she knew was that she needed the truth. She needed to control her own life, instead of constantly being caught in someone else’s whirlwind. She was sick of all the manipulation, of all the lies.
Kara slipped her arms around Rose’s waist, embracing her from behind, resting her head against Rose’s shoulder. “Please,” she whispered, “forgive me.”
Rose closed her eyes, shuddering, as she felt the warmth of Kara’s breath on her neck. She tilted her head back, a shaky breath escaping her lips, as Kara’s mouth found her neck. She rested her hands on top of Kara’s. “Tell me the truth.”
Rose didn’t have to look at Kara to know what she was feeling—because she felt the way Kara’s muscles tightened, the way her face twisted with anguish.
“I can’t,” Kara whispered, her words breathless and pained. “I’m sorry.”
Rose removed Kara’s hands from her stomach so that she could turn to face her. “If you won’t tell me the truth,” she told her, “I’ll find out another way.”
Kara looked away, her brows creasing with worry. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
Rose frowned, her chest tightening with empathy. She hated the sight of Kara in pain, but how could she fix what she didn’t know? “It can’t be that bad.”
“But it is,” Kara said. She turned and walked toward the bed. With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed. She braced her elbows on her fair-skinned thighs and buried her face in her hands. “I knew I’d screw this up. I always do.”
Struck by the pain in Kara’s voice, Rose stepped toward her. “Kara,” she murmured. Kara’s pain drew Rose closer, like a beacon, and Rose couldn’t resist the urge to close the space between them, to kneel in the floor, in front of Kara.
Kara lifted her face, pinning Rose with those pain-filled, ice-blue eyes.
“I’m still here,” Rose reminded her. “You haven’t screwed anything up.”
Kara’s chest rose and fell quickly, as her pulse quickened. “Forgive me.”
Rose opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, her head spun violently. Kara immediately fell to the floor beside her, looping her arms around Rose’s waist before Rose could fall forward. Her light blue eyes scanned Rose’s face, full of concern, as Rose fought to stay conscious. “Nice catch,” Rose slurred.
“I smelled the blood,” Kara explained. She adjusted Rose in her arms, so that she could reach into the pocket of her leather jacket, on the bed, and pull out a small, black handkerchief—almost identical to the one she’d given Rose. Gently, she cleaned the blood from Rose’s face. “When did the headaches start this time?”
Her strength fading quickly, Rose slumped back against Kara, feeling the warmth of Kara’s body behind her. “You’ve already given me one of those,” she said drowsily, as she saw the handkerchief in Kara’s hand. “I kept it. It’s so soft.”
Kara smiled—almost forgetting that Rose hadn’t answered her question. “You kept it?” she asked quietly, tilting her head so that she could see Rose’s face.
“It smells like you,” Rose slurred, closing her eyes. “It comforts me.”
“It does?” Kara said, her smile deepening. She adjusted Rose in her arms. “Don’t pass out on me, love. I need you to drink some blood—so you can heal.”
Rose rested her head against Kara’s shoulder, a sleepy sigh spilling from her lips. “It happens faster and faster every time. Darkness—it’s always so close.”
Kara froze, her heart skipping with fear. She glanced down at Rose’s face, noticing the peacefulness of her expression, the blood trickling from her ears and nose. Rose was obviously too exhausted and disoriented to know what she’d said.
It must’ve been a coincidence, Kara thought. Surely, it was a coincidence.
“I’m sorry,” Rose mumbled tiredly, her breath warm against Kara’s neck.
Kara slid one of her arms beneath Rose’s legs and stood, lifting Rose off of the floor, cradling Rose’s soft, curvy body in her arms. “Sorry for what, love?” she said, careful to keep her voice light. She lay Rose’s partially-conscious
body on the bed and then crawled into bed with her. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I keep overusing my power,” Rose said. “You must find it annoying.”
“Oh, yes. It’s so annoying to be rescued by my powerful girlfriend,” Kara scoffed. Kara curled up beside Rose, smiling, as Rose opened her eyes to squint at her. “I think the word you’re looking for, love, is sexy. It’s quite the turn-on.”
Rose gave her a sleepy smile. “Sexy? When I can barely stay conscious?”
“Well,” Kara said, “I was referring to the using-your-power part, actually.”
Rose closed her eyes and nodded. “I guess that makes more sense.”
Kara’s gaze softened. “But you’re beautiful now, too. You always are.”
Rose opened her eyes, blinking up at Kara, stunned by the adoring look in Kara’s eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the way Kara looked at her.
Kara lifted the handkerchief again, wiping some of the blood from Rose’s skin. “Did you really,” she said, smiling fondly at Rose, “keep the handkerchief?”
“Mm-hmm,” Rose said, blinking slowly. “Do you think that’s weird?”
Kara shook her head. “I think it’s sweet,” she said softly. She cleaned the blood from Rose’s ears, as well. “And I think…I don’t deserve such sweetness.”
True to her sassiness—even in the midst of her exhaustion and misery—Rose rolled her eyes. “Everyone deserves a bit of sweetness, silly. Especially you.”
Kara smiled, amused by Rose’s drowsy attempt at sassiness, but then, her smile faded, as the guilt settled heavily in her stomach. “Even if I’m lying to you?”
Rose’s smile faded, too, and pain filled her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I know,” Kara sighed. She shrugged her lean, fair-skinned shoulders and changed the subject. “You need blood,” she said softly, “and then, you need rest.”
“What I need,” Rose said, “is for the woman I love to be honest with me.”
The Reign of Darkness Page 35