by Nora Ash
“That doesn’t explain the vehemence I sense in these people,” he said. “Human society has been built around the very concept of family—of caring for your blood. And uniqueness… is celebrated. Or it should be.”
The pain I always felt when I thought too much about my upbringing flared in my gut, tightening my throat. This time, when Warin swung back, I didn’t push him.
The air swooshed between us, and then he was by my side, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Liv, what did these people do to you?” His voice was very quiet, but it had an unmistakable core of steel.
I shook my head and leaned in so my forehead pressed against his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it. Not now, when I have to face them again this evening."
His hand moved from my shoulder to circle my waist, and I relaxed in his embrace. "You don’t have to go back. I’ll take you anywhere you wish.“
My mouth pulled up in a soft smile against his wool coat. "Thank you," I whispered.
Feather light lips brushed against my hair. "Shall I take you back to the hotel?"
I pulled myself back up right and looked at him, the thankful smile still on my lips. "Not yet. If we leave now, they'll just think they got to me.”
"Does their conviction matter?"
Unfortunately, it did. I sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry. I know I'm weak."
Warin shook his head. “You’re not weak. Blood… has power over everyone, even mortals.”
“Isn’t that a bitch?” I sighed.
He chuckled in response. “Indeed.”
“Come on, let’s get back inside. The sooner we get coffee over with, the sooner we can go home.” I pulled back and offered him a teasing wink. “And if you’re really lucky, Brad will have some more car questions for you.”
* * *
The family had spread out over the house in small groups when we came back in. Brad, with Kathy in tow, made a beeline for Warin the second we stepped inside, and if I’d been the betting sort, I’d have won big when he immediately began talking engine size.
I, however, excused myself and went upstairs to find the bathroom.
I spent some time in front of the mirror giving myself a pep talk, not terribly concerned with having left Warin alone with my relatives. He could handle himself in a group of small-minded humans just fine—especially when they were all fawning all over him due to his obvious wealth.
“Olivia?” My mother’s voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door, followed by a rap of her knuckles. “Open up.”
I grimaced at my own reflection. “Just a minute, Mom.”
She rapped her knuckles against the door again, and I allowed myself a deep breath before I unlocked it. “Hey, sorry, I’ll get out of yo—“
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, grabbing onto my arm when I tried to walk past her.
“What do you mean?” I asked as calmly as I could, even as my heart sped up to overdrive, my knees feeling oddly weak as adrenaline kicked in.
“How dare you speak to me like that in front of the family! I’ve never been more humiliated! If you think you’ll endear yourself to that man by mouthing off to your own mother, you’re in for a nasty surprise. He’ll dump you the second he realizes what a trashy piece of shit you are.” The contempt in my mother’s eyes cut through my chest, making me tremble as I struggled to keep calm and breathe evenly.
“Is this about cleaning the stupid table?” I managed.
“It’s about you and your big mouth, as it always is, Olivia! God, I don’t understand what went wrong with you! I’ve given you everything—everyone has! You’ve had everything served to you on a silver platter, and what do you do? Throw it in my face the second you’re asked for the tiniest favor!” She shook my shoulder, eyes wide with fury. “You ungrateful, spoiled cun—“
I gust of wind cut her short. An extremely pissed-looking Warin was inches from her face, and the hand she’d been holding onto me with was uselessly raised in the air, the vampire’s fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist.
“Be. Quiet,” he hissed, and when he spoke I saw the length of his fangs gleaming menacingly.
My mother trembled in his grasp, eyes bulging with fear—but she was completely silent.
“If you ever speak to Liv like that again, you’ll regret it. If you ever touch her, you’ll regret it. If you ever mention another ill word about her to anyone in this family, you’ll regret it. Have I made myself clear?” he asked, and though his voice was low, the deadly quality to it gave me goosebumps.
My mother nodded violently, though.
“You’ll never be able to tell anyone, in any way, what I’ve told you tonight—or even that you fear me. But you will remember my words. And you will live the rest of your miserable life knowing that just one mistake will bring you pain like nothing you’ve ever experienced.” Warin released his hold on her wrist and, after one final stare through narrowed eyes, turned to me. “Come, Liv. It’s time to leave.”
23
Neither one of us uttered a word on the drive back to the hotel. Warin was quietly seething by my side, knuckles tight around the steering-wheel. And I… I was too stunned to say anything, or even wipe away the steady streams of tears rolling down my cheeks.
At the hotel, Warin walked me to my room, a hand resting on the small of my back as a gentle but constant reminder that he’d kept his promise—he’d stuck by my side through a night I hadn’t known how to get through.
And he’d stood up for me, like no one ever had. Not even me, truth be told. I’d never had the strength to. There’d always been that small voice at the back of mind telling me that I deserved what my family said to me. What they did.
It wasn’t until tonight, until Warin had showed me that I truly wasn’t alone, that I realized that voice had been my mother’s all along.
Once inside my suite, Warin walked over to the side of my bed and sat down, face still drawn with anger.
I sucked in a shuddering breath and wiped at my eyes, calm finally closing in around me now that there was a closed door between me and the rest of the world. “You don’t have to stay. I’m okay, and Aleric must be expecting you.”
“He can wait. Come here, little one. Please.”
I bit my lip, hesitating. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now… because I knew no one else would ever take away the pain. But on the other hand, I knew if I sat on that bed, I’d not be able to hide my brokenness anymore. And there’d be no coming back from that.
“Liv,” he said, so softly I knew if I closed my eyes his words would feel like a caress. “Tell me.”
And so I sat on the bed, letting him intertwine his slender fingers with mine.
And I told him everything.
I told him about my dad leaving my mom to never get in touch again when I had just turned three, about how she’s always resented me for looking so much like him, reminding her of how he'd mistreated her. I told him about how that meant I'd grown up feeling ugly and unlovable. I told him about the man she met when I was four—my sister's dad, Bruce—about how he was so outgoing, successful, and well-loved by the entire family, especially my mom.
And while carefully avoiding Warin’s gaze, I told him how I, when I was seven, had confessed to my Mom that Bruce was touching me.
Warin’s thumb, which had been gently stroking over mine again and again while I talked, stopped. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
So I kept talking. About how my mother had called me a liar, a sick and twisted liar trying to ruin a good man’s reputation.
How she’d stayed with him.
And how he’d kept sneaking into my bedroom until the day he died several months later.
“He only touched,” I whispered. “He never hurt me, or raped me. He’d tell me once I became a woman, that he’d be my first, but he… died long before I did. I think my mom blamed me for his death. I don’t… I don’t really remember what happened, but I was with him when he died. Anyway
, because he died in my bedroom and the paramedics asked me why he was there… it became known in the neighborhood that he was a kiddy fiddler. My family never forgave me for ruining his reputation.”
I wasn't aware of the fresh tears until Warin wiped them from my cheek with his free hand before wrapping his hand around my cheeks to lift my gaze to his. Soft sapphire eyes sought and held mine.
“He did hurt you, Liv. Do not ever minimize what he put you through. I know the damage he did to you. There is no excuse, no extenuating circumstances. He hurt you, and you survived it because you are strong beyond words. Not because what he did wasn’t painful.”
I shook my head, biting my quivering bottom lip. It hadn't been invasive or painful, and sometimes it had been… The shame from those times was the worst of it all. “It wasn’t… You don’t understand—”
"No, Liv. I understand.” The softness of his gaze didn't change, but the intensity did. "I know the hurt you went through. All of it. The physical pain is the easiest damage to recover from.”
I stared wide-eyed at him, recognized the age-old pain in the depths of his eyes. He did understand.
Warin moved his hand from my chin to clasp it behind the back of my neck, pulling my forehead in to rest against his. "As for your family's reaction…" His gentle tone had gained a sharp edge. "They were wrong. Are wrong. None of this was ever your fault, and there’s nothing wrong with you, Liv. Nothing. They failed the most sacred obligation of any being on this Earth—they failed to protect their young. And they are wrong."
I sniffled in response, too overwhelmed by the intensity of his words to keep his gaze.
And then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me to his lap, holding me tightly. Glueing me together with the strength of his presence.
"My little one," he murmured in my ear, his steely tone stronger. "Your mother is a weak, wretched human, and she has no excuse for the abuse you have suffered at the hands of her and her family. I know you’ve been taught to accept it, but this time, you need to listen to me: They are wrong; you are wrong. You’re the strongest, most precious thing in this world, and no one will ever tell you otherwise again. I will not allow it.”
His words made me shake violently—from fear, from anger, from relief—from reasons I didn't understand. But he held me so tightly while he whispered soothing things in my hair that I finally, for the first time since Bruce’s death, broke down and sobbed over the loss of my childhood. My family.
Sobs wracked my body, my hands desperately fisting in Warin’s shirt, but when I finally—a long time later—had no more tears left, I felt… free.
I slowly lifted my red and puffy face from the vampire's shoulder and looked into ancient eyes that were completely focused on me.
"I'm sor..."
His finger against my lips made me silent. When he was sure I wasn't going to continue, he removed it.
"Do not apologize. Do not." His gaze was as serious as I'd ever seen it. "Never, ever be sorry for sharing your pain with me. I am honored that you chose me."
The only thing I could do after that statement was to bury my head under his chin and clutch his shirt again.
We sat like that for a long time, doing nothing more than simply being. Together.
“My Sire was a sadist,” Warin said after what must have been nearly an hour’s silence. His voice was quiet, calm. Devoid of emotion. “He found me as a young man, and he thought me beautiful. For twenty-one nights he kept me alive, and for twenty-one nights I would beg him for death. He hurt me in every way, but before the sun rose after each of those nights, he would give me pleasure as he violated me. That was when I would plead with him to end my life.
“On the final night, I knew he’d gone too far—I felt my life slip away, and I knew there’d be no coming back this time. I felt such… relief.
“The next night, I arose as a vampire. Tied to him with a bond more suffocating than any chain he could ever shackle my flesh with. I could feel him, all the time, inside my blood. Could feel the pleasure he got from my torment. The bond between a Sire and Child is… There is no force like it. I have been told it is the greatest gift, but… for me, it was not. I was with him for decades. How many, I don’t know. Something… broke in me during that time. I became… something else.
“One night, he brought home Aleric. They say the bond between a Sire and his Child is unbreakable. But I… I finally found a way to shatter his chains. I couldn’t bear the pain in my blood when he hurt my new brother. So I killed him.
“Even now… Sometimes I feel the broken bond aching in my chest. I feel the echo of everything he did to me. But the only thing that still hurts… is the memory of the times there’d be no pain. When I allowed his touch to bring me pleasure… relief.”
“Warin,” I whispered, because there was nothing else to say. My own pained past was a flickering candle in comparison to the roar of agony in my chest as I pressed myself to him, wishing with every fiber of my being that I could take away the torment of his entry into the night. Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks, soaking his already ruined shirt.
Warin held me as tightly as I did him, his lips pressed against the top of my head. “Don’t cry, Liv,” he mumbled. “Those nights with my Sire brought me to you. If I were given a choice, I would not have picked a different path now that I know where it has led.”
"What did I do to deserve you in my life?" I croaked against his collarbone.
He whispered something against the top of my head, but it was too quiet for me to make out.
Soon, I fell asleep. Safe in Warin’s arms.
24
I didn’t see Warin for nearly a week after we returned to Chicago. He called me the night after I flew back to let me know that he had a lead on the potential backer of the skinwalkers, and would be too busy to visit for a few nights.
As much as I wanted to see him, I knew it was probably best to take some time apart to cool off after our emotional trip to Denver. There’d been such a massive shift in our relationship, and I needed time to sort through my feelings. I even went so far as to google “vampire + human relationships”—but all that brought up was some really creepy porn.
The relentless sex dreams thanks to our most recent blood exchange didn’t help matters, at all, but I was still hesitant to cross that final line. And not just because of that porn clip, either.
As close as I’d felt to Warin in Denver, and as much as I knew he was already all the way in, behind every wall and every barrier I’d ever erected to protect myself, if we actually tried a… a relationship, and it went wrong…
I’d lose him.
And that was one thing I couldn’t do.
In the end, I decided to confine my urges for more to the hazy mornings when I woke up covered in sweat and aching from debauched dreams. I spent my days focused on work, on finishing the painting of Warin I’d been working on for weeks now, on chatting with Raven about witchy stuff and Roy about blessedly normal stuff, like football (he was a die-hard Packers fan) and gardening (and had a surprising love for his begonias).
When Warin finally texted me to check if he could come over, I’d managed to get enough distance from our intense time in Denver that I could ignore the flutter of butterflies in my stomach, even if I was entirely unable to get the giant and involuntary smile off my face.
He buzzed my door phone some fifteen minutes later, and I practically skipped over to let him in. It wasn't until his face lit up in an unusually warm smile when I opened the door that I realized that I hadn't managed to get rid of my excited grin since he texted.
I coughed and stepped back behind the door to try and school my features into at least a somewhat less insane expression, gesturing for him to come in.
"I have missed you," he said softly as I closed the door behind him.
The pesky butterflies returned with a vengeance. “I missed you too.”
We stared at each other in silence for a too-long moment, until I managed to get a grip and turned
my focus to the wrapped package I’d gotten ready on the coffee table. “I… got you a gift. An early Christmas present.”
“Oh. That is… very kind, but I do not want you to spend your money on gifts for me,” he said, surprise clear in his voice as he followed me to the couch.
“I didn’t,” I said as I plopped down on the couch in my usual spot and nudged the present toward him. “Open it. I’m dying to see what you think.”
Warin eased down on the couch, plucking the present from the table to study the wrapping for a moment.
I was really quite excited to see if he would like it, as I had put a great deal of time and thought into it, but I did my best not to rush him.
Finally, Warin carefully unwrapped the paper, his fingers deftly undoing the tape and ribbon until the framed picture was finally between his hands.
It was the charcoal drawing of him I’d been working on while we got to know each other, set on the background of a sunrise similar to the one on my wall he’d admired so much.
Warin stared at with a completely blank expression for the longest time, and for a moment I worried he didn’t like it. Then his eyes softened and he let his finger slide over the canvas in a featherlight caress.
“Do you like it?” I asked, incapable of holding back my anticipation any longer.
“It’s… very beautiful.” He finally lifted his gaze from the picture to my face and held my gaze until I began to fidget, heat rising in my cheeks. There was so much emotion in his blue eyes… which made me completely uncomfortable, so my brain decided to spit information at him to ease the awkwardness I felt under his intense focus.
“The sunrise is made mainly in pastel crayons, and as you can see, I did you mostly in charcoal, but I've just used that to highlight the colors of the sky, emphasizing the light. It was really hard to capture the glow of your skin without clashing with the sun, so I had to put in some blue and purple tones in as a contrast, but your features were just so easy to get right. Almost like what drawing one of the old Roman statues would be like—perfect balance and contouring," I rambled.