by Хлоя Нейл
“When your sister died, I was struck, Merit.
Deadened by grief. Everything I’ve done for you, I wasn’t able to do for her.” He lifted his gaze, his eyes so very like mine. “I wasn’t able to save Caroline. So I gave you her name, and I tried to save you.”
I understood grief firsthand, but not his willingness to play God. “By making me a vampire without my consent? By paying someone to assault me?”
“I never made a payment,” he clarified, as if the intent weren’t enough on its own. “And I was trying to give you immortality.”
“You were trying to force immortality upon me. You said you didn’t pay anyone—but it was Celina’s vamp who attacked me. Why me?”
He looked away.
Realization struck. “When Ethan said no, you talked to Celina. You offered to pay Celina to make me a vampire.” She must have told Ethan about the offer, which is why he’d known me to be at U of C.
Ethan had been keeping an eye on me. He’d saved my life . . . twice. Grief pierced my heart again.
My father looked down at me. “I did not pay Celina. Although I understood later that she found out about my offer to Ethan. She was . . . displeased that I hadn’t made the same offer to her.”
My blood ran cold. “Celina sent the vampire to kill me, and she arranged for the death of other girls who looked just like me.”
The puzzle pieces fell into place. Celina had been rebuked by a human, and she’d taken out her embarrassment on his daughter—and on those who looked like her. I shook my head ruefully. One man’s arrogance, and so many lives ruined.
“I did the right thing by my family,” my father said, as if reading my thoughts.
I wasn’t sure whether to be angry at him, or to pity him, if that was what he believed of love. “I can appreciate unconditional love. Love that’s based on partnership, not control. That’s not love.”
I turned on a heel and walked toward the door.
“We aren’t done,” he said, but his voice was weak, and there wasn’t much push behind it.
I glanced back at him. “For tonight, we most definitely are.”
Time would tell whether there was any other forgiveness to be had.
The sun was shining, so I knew it was a dream. I lay in the cool, thick grass in a tank top and jeans, a crystal blue sky overhead, the sun warm and golden above me. I closed my eyes, stretched, and basked in the warmth of the sun on my long-denied body. It had been months without sunlight, and the feel of it soaking through my skin, warming my bones, was as good as any languid orgasm.
“Is it that good?” asked a voice beside me, chuckling.
I turned my head to the side, found green eyes smiling back at me.
“Hello, Sentinel.”
Even in the dream, my eyes welled at the sight of him. “Hello, Sullivan.”
Ethan half sat up, propped his head on his elbow. He wore his usual suit, and I took a moment to enjoy the sight of the long, lean line of his body beside me. When I finally made my way back to his face, I smiled at him.
“Is this a dream?” I asked.
“As we’ve not been burned to ash, I would assume so.”
I pushed a lock of blond hair from his face.
“The House is lonely without you.”
His smile faltered. “Is it?”
“The House is empty without you.”
“Hmm.” He nodded, laid his head back on the grass, one hand beneath it, and stared at the sky.
“But you, of course, don’t miss me at all?”
“Not especially,” I quietly answered, but let him take my hand in his, entwine our fingers together.
“Well, I believe, if I were alive, I’d be hurt by that.”
“I believe, if you were alive, that you’d manage, Sullivan.”
He chuckled, and I grinned at the sound of his laughter. I closed my eyes again as we lay in the grass, hands linked between us, sun above us, baking in the warmth of the afternoon.
My eyes were still closed when he screamed my name.
Merit!
I woke gasping, thunder booming as rain pelted the window. I jumped out of bed and threw on the light, positive the voice I’d heard— his voice—had come from inside my room.
It had seemed so real. He had seemed so real.
But my room was empty.
Dusk had fallen again, and he was gone. I fell back in bed, my heart pounding against my chest, and stared at the ceiling, body aching with the remembrance of loss.
But even the ache of remembrance was far better than the empty vacuum of grief. He was gone. But I knew now that he’d been the man I’d come to believe in. I had the memories of him, and if dreams were the only way I could remember him, be with him, so be it.
After scrubbing my face clean and pulling my hair into a ponytail, I pulled on clean clothes and headed downstairs. The House was quiet, as it had been for two weeks. The mood was somber, the vampires still grieving for their lost captain.
But for the first time in two weeks, I walked through the House like a vampire warrior, not a zombie. I walked with purpose, my heart still rent by grief, but at least now the emotion was clean, without the confusing additions of anger and hatred.
The door to the office was closed.
Malik’s office now.
For the first time, I lifted my hand and knocked.
It was time to get back to work.
FB2 document info
Document ID: a908c6ac-bb7d-4b0c-a018-24bf1f2aa823
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 11.5.2011
Created using: calibre 0.7.57, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
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