by I. T. Lucas
Today was the first time Tessa had seen Eva going out on a real date, and not one that was part of a job. Eva needed to live a little as herself and not through the prism of her many fake identities.
Tessa rubbed her chest. What about me? I need to start living too.
Jackson had invited her for another non-date at the café tonight. This time after the place was closed to customers. Tessa had promised him she would, it would’ve been impolite to refuse after how nice he’d been to her, but she’d had no intentions of showing up. Her plan had been to call him with an excuse. Something about work.
Except now, alone in the empty house that didn’t feel like home yet, she was tempted to go.
With a sigh, Tessa let her head hang low. It wasn’t fair to Jackson. If she went, she would be insinuating that she was interested. When she wasn’t—not in anything Jackson had in mind. The only thing she could offer him was friendship, and for a little while he might even accept that it was enough. But then it wouldn’t be. Jackson would try something, and she would run screaming.
But she was lonely, and as the adage went, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
A little over an hour later, Tessa parked her shiny new red Prius in front of Jackson’s café. The good thing about coming after closing time was that there were plenty of parking spaces available and she didn’t have to walk far in the heeled sandals she’d strapped on. The bad thing was that Jackson might see her checking her hair and makeup in the rear-view mirror. She’d actually blow dried her shoulder length hair and used a round brush to curl the ends and give it some bounce. As for makeup, all she had on was mascara, and even that felt weird, kind of sticky.
Why the hell am I doing this?
Jackson was the kind of guy any girl would’ve salivated over, and if not for her phobia, Tessa would have been so into him even though he was too young. At eighteen, he was more of a man than most. A good man, the kind a mother would’ve been proud to call a son.
The kind a woman would’ve been proud to call her own.
Unfortunately, Tessa couldn’t claim him. She had nothing to offer a sexually active guy like Jackson. If he were sworn to celibacy or gay, they could have been best friends.
But he was neither.
Still, phobias and hang-ups aside, she was a woman, and a woman wanted a hot guy like Jackson to see her as such regardless of her intentions, or rather lack thereof.
Clutching her purse and trotting on a pair of heels she had no business wearing, Tessa went up to the café’s front door and knocked.
Jackson opened up the way as if he’d been waiting by the door the entire time. “You’re late.” He looked her up and down, then whistled softly. “But it was worth the wait. You look hot.” Reaching for her hand, he pulled her inside and locked the door.
Trouble! Trouble! Trouble! Taylor Swift’s song rang in Tessa’s head. She shouldn’t be so happy about that whistle and that compliment.
“I got rid of Gordon and Vlad so we could be alone.” He dragged her behind him down the aisle between the two rows of booths until he reached the last one.
“My lady?” He offered her a seat.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
This was worse than she’d anticipated. Jackson had a white tablecloth spread over the simple Formica top, with two small lighted candles that were housed in clear glass jars, and a small vase with flowers for decoration. The place settings were the usual café fare, as was the large bottle of Perrier and the two tall tumblers.
Jackson, apparently, believed it was a real date.
Hypocrite. So did you. Otherwise why did you bother with the dress up?
Jackson slid into the booth and smiled apologetically. “Don’t read too much into the nice setting. I’m still going to serve you a sandwich and coffee. I’m a whiz with the cappuccino machine, but I can’t cook worth shit.”
The panic squeezing her throat eased. He was right. She’d been reading too much into it. After all, Jackson hadn’t tried to get her upstairs into his living quarters, and even though he gave it a slightly romantic twist, he was serving dinner down in the café and joking around as usual.
Still, she needed to make it clear that romance was not on the agenda. “What’s the occasion?” She waved her hand over the table. “Did I miss your birthday or something?”
Jackson shrugged. “You agreed to come, and I just felt like doing something nice for you.”
Now he made her feel like a jerk.
Shit. She needed to tell Jackson to stop trying. But then he would ask why and she would have to tell him something to make him understand. Maybe she could reveal just one small thing out of the nightmare she’d been through. No one could ever know the whole truth. Not even a therapist.
That’s why she’d never gone to see one.
“Thank you.” She reached for the bottle of Perrier, but Jackson stopped her. “Allow me.” He opened it and poured the bubbly into her glass first and then his. “Cheers.” He lifted his glass.
“To friendship.” She clinked hers to his.
Jackson nodded.
Good. He didn’t look upset.
“There are things you need to know about me,” Tessa blurted out fast before she had time to change her mind. “Why I can’t be anything other than a friend to you. Not just you. Any guy.”
He arched a brow.
“I’m not into girls, if that’s what you think.” She pointed at his brow.
Jackson lifted his hands. “I didn’t say a thing.”
“Right. Anyway. I’ve been through some shit when I was young, and I can’t even stand the thought of a guy touching me intimately. I wanted you to know so you wouldn’t think it’s about you. You’re a nice guy. It’s just that I can’t.”
His handsome face darkened, and Tessa had another moment of panic, anticipating his anger to explode and lash out at her.
Instead, he asked in the softest tone, “Are you seeing someone about it?”
She expelled the breath she’d been holding and thanked God that Jackson hadn’t pelted her with questions about what had happened to her.
She shook her head. “I can’t. For me the best way to deal with it is to push the thoughts away and just go about my day.”
“I can see how well it’s working for you,” he said sarcastically.
That’s why she didn’t like talking about her past. Without having a clue as to what kind of evil she’d been subjected to, people sought to give her advice on how to deal with it.
Tessa narrowed her eyes. “I know you mean well, Jackson, but please don’t try to fix me. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her anger took him by surprise. “I’m sorry. I should’ve phrased it better. It’s just that my mom is a therapist and she helps people overcome all kinds of traumas. Living with nightmares and pushing people away is not really living. Even for a slim chance of a normal life, I think it’s worth talking to someone like my mom. It’s not that expensive, and I think medical insurance covers it.”
So that was what he thought, that she couldn’t afford therapy. “It’s not about the money.”
“Then what?”
“I want to forget. And talking about it isn’t going to help. It will only bring it all back. You want to talk about normal? I barely cling to sanity as it is. Rehashing my past will shatter what little of it I have.”
Frustration darkening his features, Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it and closed it. Too young to have learned to hide his emotions, he was so easy to read. The boy was suffering from savior syndrome. His inability to save Tessa was eating him up. Jackson wasn’t used to encountering problems too big for him to solve.
He raked his fingers through his light blond hair, shoving the long bangs back. “Tell me what to do, Tessa, because I’m sure as hell out of my depth here.”
At least he was honest.
She reached for his hand. “Just be my friend. Let’s eat, let’s talk about movies and
music and shoot the breeze. Can it be enough for you? Or do you want me to leave?”
Looking as if she’d offended his mother and spat in his face, Jackson pulled out his hand from her grasp. “Damn it, Tessa. I didn’t invite you here because I wanted to get laid. I like you, as a girl, as a woman, but that doesn’t mean I want nothing from you other than sex. So yeah, I’m bummed out that there will be no kiss goodnight, but it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”
Ouch. It seemed like tonight was all about awkward blunders and stepping on each other’s toes. “Can we start over? Press replay?”
“Sure.” Jackson let out a long breath, his big body deflating back to its normal size.
Dimly, she was aware that even though Jackson was far from mellow and swelled with aggression whenever he got angry or frustrated, she hadn’t felt threatened by him.
The big guy was growing on her.
Other than Nick, who was like a brother to her, Jackson was the only man she felt comfortable around.
Chapter 35: Eva
Just as things were getting interesting, Bhathian clammed up.
It had been gutsy of him to admit how deeply he’d regretted letting her go. He’d said something to that effect before, but she’d thought he’d been trying to sweet-talk her. This time she’d listened with more than her ears, and her instincts had told her he was sincere.
His honesty had started to melt away her shields, and for a few moments Eva had forgotten to keep up her guard, letting herself feel a connection to Bhathian. But he’d yanked that fragile thread loose before it had a chance to gain substance.
What surprised Eva, though, was that instead of relief she felt anger. After working for so long to keep her walls up, she should be glad they hadn’t crumbled just because a man had been honest with her for a few minutes.
Would the world come to an end when men bared their souls to the women in their lives and just laid it all on the table?
Probably.
If a strong warrior like Bhathian had chosen the cowardly route, then there was no hope for the rest of his gender.
“I see that you’re uncomfortable talking about your feelings. Would you like to switch to a less sensitive subject?”
Her jibe hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Bhathian’s scowl deepened. He crossed his massive arms over his chest, the seams of his white dress shirt groaning in protest. She must’ve offended his male ego.
“As if you’re any better.”
It was Eva’s turn to scowl. Not that Bhathian was wrong necessarily, she was as close-mouthed as a priest with a confession, but he piqued her curiosity. Was Bhathian more perceptive than he seemed?
“What do you mean?”
“Like what’s the deal with you and Fernando. You’d left him years before skipping town.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“You may be right, but doesn’t Nathalie deserve to know?”
Ouch, that was a sore point. Eva had deflected Nathalie’s hints on the subject several times. In fact, she’d been avoiding meeting Nathalie face to face for over a week because she knew it was coming.
“I don’t know what to tell her.”
“How about the truth?”
“What if the truth hurts her? She’s in the last weeks of her pregnancy, and the last thing I want is to upset her.”
“Nathalie is made from sturdier stuff.”
Oh, hell, what did she have to lose? It wasn’t as if any of it would affect her relationship with Bhathian one way or another. Maybe when he heard her story he would help her come up with a modified version for Nathalie.
“I’ve never loved him,” she started.
Bhathian didn’t look surprised.
“I was pregnant and alone, and I didn’t want my child to be born without a father. I had only one criterion for the kind of man I wanted: a guy who would love my child as if she was his own and be the best possible father to her. Nothing else mattered.”
Bhathian didn’t try to hide the guilt that was twisting his features, but he said nothing.
“I met Fernando in his café. A friend from the airline dragged me there, saying I had to taste his baking. Sitting there with my coffee and bagel, I watched him interacting with the customers. His cheerfulness and friendliness were genuine. Fernando really loved people and especially the kids. It brought tears to my eyes watching him with them.”
“He’s been an amazing father to Nathalie,” Bhathian said.
Eva nodded. “Right then and there I knew he was the one I wanted, and since he had no ring on his finger and was flirting shamelessly with each and every female customer, I figured he was single. We were married a month later.”
“Did he know?”
Eva frowned. What kind of woman did he think she was? “Of course he knew. I told him on our first official date.”
“And he didn’t mind?”
“Fernando loved children, and he wanted me so much he would’ve agreed to anything. He proposed on our second date. Turned out he’d made the right choice. I wanted to give him more children, but it didn’t work out. For obvious reasons I refused to go for a check-up and told him to go.”
Bhathian reached for her hand. “Let me guess. There was nothing wrong with Fernando.”
Eva frowned. “Why would you assume that it was me when in fact the doctors confirmed it was him?”
“A coincidence. Immortal females have such low conception rates that I’m surprised you got pregnant with Nathalie.”
True. Eva had suspected she was infertile for years, but when she’d conceived at an age most women entered the early signs of menopause, she’d figured she was good for another baby or two.
“It was a miracle.”
Bhathian squeezed her hand. “One of many. You seem to contradict every statistic law in the universe, being the only woman in history who has been accidentally turned by a random immortal male.”
“I was wondering about it. Could it have been one of your clansmen?” Maybe they had a database she could look through.
“No. I investigated the possibility, I even emailed your picture to every male of my clan, asking if they recognize you, but no one remembered ever being with you.”
“Whoever it was might have forgotten a girl he’d slept with only once over fifty years ago.”
“No man would’ve forgotten you, Eva. You’re unforgettable.”
That was the nicest compliment anyone had ever given her, and what’s more, it had been sincere. “Thank you.” Suddenly embarrassed, she looked away for a moment. “But then who? Are there any immortals other than your clan and your enemies? What do you call them? Dumbers?” Nathalie had told her a little about the secret war going on between the two immortal factions.
He laughed. “Doomers. Though Dumbers fits too. Doom is the acronym for the Devout Order of Mortdh. It might have been one of them, but I doubt it. At the time they had no presence in the area.”
“It happened in Rhode Island, not here.”
“I meant the United States. There might have been some who came on short reconnaissance or acquisition missions, but I doubt any of them went looking for young women to seduce. It wasn’t that easy then. Most girls wanted to get married first.”
“Then who was it?”
“That’s the mystery. It was either a Doomer deserter or an unaccounted for immortal. The first is in the realm of possibility; the second would be another miracle. We’ve spent endless years searching for other immortals and never finding any.”
Eva leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the one she suspected was the culprit. The guy had taken her virginity and must’ve thralled the memory away, but he hadn’t been very good at it because she remembered him, just not the sex.
“It happened in college. The guy took my virginity and then made me forget he did. For years, I thought he did it while I was drunk, and that’s why I couldn’t remember anything about that night. But now that I know about the thralling busin
ess I realize that it wasn’t the alcohol.”
A growl escaped Bhathian’s throat, and his eyes shone from the inside. “If we ever find the motherfucker, I’m going to kill him.”
Eva smiled. His bloodthirsty response made her happy. “Don’t be so hasty. If not for him, I would’ve aged as any other human woman, and you wouldn’t have hit on me on that flight.”
“I would’ve found you attractive even with a few wrinkles.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he’d ever bedded an older woman, but she put a cork in it. “That’s nice. But back to that alleged immortal, I remember him well. I met him at a college party. He said he was a student, and I had no reason to doubt him. Back then the girls had a separate building within Brown, Pembroke College, and we didn’t hang out with the boys much. He was handsome, and I was a little tipsy, and we necked.”
“Son of a bitch,” Bhathian growled again.
Eva ignored him and kept going. “The next morning I woke up with what I thought was the flu, but there was no soreness, nothing to indicate that I was no longer a virgin. I thought that I must’ve passed out from drinking too much and that the nice fellow had brought me back to my room. I couldn’t remember his name, which was embarrassing considering all the kissing and touching we’d done, but I blamed everything on the alcohol. The high fever kept me in bed for several days, and when I came back to school, I didn’t look for him because I was so embarrassed about what I’d done. Two years later, when I finally had sex for what I believed was the first time, and there was no blood and no pain, I started to suspect that the nice fellow hadn’t been so nice.”
“Do you remember what he looked like?”
“Six foot tall give or take an inch, athletic build, brown hair, and smiling blue eyes. I know the description fits countless guys, but I would’ve recognized him if I saw him.”
“Andrew has a friend who is a forensic artist. He can draw the guy from your description. He drew your picture for me, and it came up very accurate.”
“I would love to see it.”