by Chelsea Fine
She held his head against her throat as he kissed her, the loose corset around her chest shifting with every ragged breath she took. With her legs wrapped around his waist she pulled him closer and pressed her body against his.
He groaned and moved his hot mouth back to hers. “You are going to kill me, woman.”
She whispered, “Never.”
His hands slid down to her thighs, running the length of them until he had the hem of her slip in his fingers. He slowly pulled the slip up, his hands brushing against her bare legs.
She ran her hands down his hard stomach muscles; he ran his teeth along her jaw. She tugged at his waistband; he slid his hands under her thighs and lifted her so their bodies were even closer.
Scarlet was overwhelmed with pleasure and love and sensation and heat. She tilted her head back and her eyes fluttered open.
Suddenly the room lit up.
Bright blue light illuminated the room, glowing against the sparse furniture and Tristan’s large body above her.
They both froze, the only movement between them their heavy breaths and pounding chests. Tristan pulled back from her and looked as confused as she felt.
Where was the light coming from?
“Scar.” He searched her face in bewilderment and fear, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. “Your eyes are glowing.”
“What?” She blinked.
Her eyes were glowing? Glowing?
She blinked again, trying to ease the burning in her eyes. “Why are they glowing? What is happening?”
Tristan cursed under his breath and lowered his hands.
Scarlet kept blinking until the light faded, completely confused and slightly terrified. She had no idea what was going on, but she was painfully aware of the fact that Tristan was no longer touching her.
Her hands started to shake.
What was happening?
He stepped back and ran a hand over his mouth, inhaling deeply through his nose with a panicked expression on his face.
She swallowed. “What do you suppose that was?”
“A mistake. A very big mistake.”
Fury lit her veins. “What just happened was not a mistake.”
“I should not have touched you until you were cured.”
“Why? What do my glowing eyes mean? Am I getting sick?”
“I don’t know.” He started pacing the room, running a shaky hand over his head as he muttered curse words.
Was she…was she dying? A swamping fear settled on her and Scarlet’s pulse started to race.
“Calm down, Scar,” Tristan said.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You calm down. You’re the one cursing and pacing.”
“Because I’m scared!”
“I’m scared too!”
Tristan’s face softened and he took a deep breath. “Do not be afraid. I’m sure you will be fine. We just need to keep from touching—completely—until you are cured.”
Scarlet nodded, but fear still gripped her.
He swallowed.
“Don’t leave me,” she said, somehow feeling him slip away from her even though he hadn’t moved.
“I have to go back to my room, Scar.”
She was so afraid. And confused. And afraid.
Looking at her with emerald eyes filled with love and concern, he said, “I do not wish to leave you, but I cannot stay. It isn’t safe. Clearly, my touching you has done something. I need to stay away.”
She shook her head.
“I cannot stay, Scarlet,” he whispered, his voice pained. “Please don’t ask me to stay. I do not want to hurt you more than I already have.”
“Go,” she whispered.
He quietly slipped out her door and Scarlet’s eyes started to burn again.
CHAPTER 12
Scarlet bunched up another linen and shoved it into the top drawer of the small desk in her room. Her nose had been bleeding off and on for the last week. She’d managed to conceal it the first few days, writing it off as a symptom of stress or fatigue, but this morning it had bled nonstop.
She and Tristan hadn’t spoken a word since the night in her bedroom, keeping their contact to only passing in hallways and stolen glances across the room, but Scarlet could tell he was on edge. Always watching her; his brow always creased.
Their trip to the New World was quickly approaching and everyone—including Nathaniel—seemed anxious in some way. The last thing she wanted to do was parade a bloody nose in front of them, adding another worry to the long list of things that hovered over their heads. But she was starting to worry herself.
Her heart pounded in fear and she pressed a hand to her chest to keep the beating madness contained. She needed to tell someone about her nosebleeds, but she didn’t want to alarm Tristan. Perhaps she would tell Nathaniel.
Yes. That was a good plan.
Standing up, she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and opened her door to find a very upset-looking Tristan standing in the hall.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, looking her over before glancing into her room.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes shot back to her. “I can feel you, Scar. I know you’re scared and you’ve been scared all morning. What’s wrong?”
Oh, damn the connection.
She stepped forward, forcing him to take a step back. “I’m fine.”
“Is it your eyes? Did they glow again?” The edge in his voice disappeared.
“No,” she said sternly. “This is not about my eyes. I’m fine.” Her palms started to sweat again and Tristan’s eyes widened.
“I just felt fear flood into you, Scar. What the hell is—” He sucked in a breath as blood dripped from her nose. Again.
She immediately tried to wipe it away, terror darting through her and making her angrier than anything else.
“Oh, Scar,” Tristan whispered as he stepped forward. “Oh, no.”
“I’m fine,” Scarlet said beneath the hand that was actively holding her nose up. Dear God, let the blood stop.
Tristan ran terrified eyes over her face. “Is this because of me? Did I do this?”
She shook her head and tried to reassure him so he’d stop looking at her like that. “I’m sure it’s something else.”
“We have to tell Nathaniel,” he said.
“Tell me what?” Nathaniel’s voice came from down the hall and Scarlet turned to see him standing outside his door, messy brown hair matted to his head and a curious expression on his face. But the curiosity vanished as he took in Scarlet’s bloody hand and, now, dress.
“What happened?” Nathaniel walked over to Scarlet, pulling her hand away from her nose. “Go find a rag,” he commanded Tristan as more blood fell.
Scarlet pointed to her desk where a stack of fresh linens still sat.
A burning sensation formed behind her eyes and Nathaniel gasped as blue light reflected off the walls.
No. No, no, no.
Tristan cursed.
“Your eyes...” Nathaniel waved a hand at Tristan and sternly said, “Back away.”
Tristan stepped away and the blue light disappeared from the walls.
Scarlet looked at Tristan. “It happened again?”
“Again?” Nathaniel whipped his head to Tristan. “This has happened before?”
Tristan looked panicked. “It happened the other night. I didn’t know what it meant.”
“You should have told me.” Nathaniel cursed and returned his attention to Scarlet, studying her face like it was a puzzle. His forehead wrinkled. “Walk back over to Scarlet,” he said to Tristan.
Tristan obeyed, stepping forward, and as soon as he neared, blue light shot from Scarlet’s eyes. The minor burning intensified and a shot of pain cut through her insides.
Tristan cursed again. “I’m hurting her.” The light faded as he moved to stand against the opposite wall, hands fisted at his sides. “I’m causing this.”
Nathaniel nodded. “It appears that way.”
&
nbsp; “What is this?” Scarlet asked with a cracked voice. “What is happening to me?”
Nathaniel shook his head with a somber look, but said nothing. He did not need to, Scarlet already knew the answer.
She was dying.
***************
“There has to be something else we can do.” Tristan hurried around Nathaniel’s library, panic and dread filling his soul.
“She’s semi-immortal.” Nathaniel said sympathetically. “I cannot change what she is.”
Gabriel—who was supposed to be with Scarlet, taking care of her through the bloody noses and eyes that were now flashing nonstop—stood in the doorway. “You need to calm down, Tristan.”
He whipped his head to Gabriel, fury racing up his throat. “Calm down? Scarlet is dying. She’s dying.”
“I know, but you need to calm down.”
Tristan rubbed his jaw and looked back at Nathaniel. “We need to leave for the New World today.”
“There are no ships departing—”
“Then we will buy our own ship and go alone.”
Nathaniel raised his hands. “You’re not thinking clearly—”
“No, you’re not thinking clearly! She’s going to die and I will be without her for another hundred and fifty years!” His throat closed up on this last sentence, causing him to clamp his mouth shut and wish he could tear out the heart inside him that hurt so much.
An impossible pain drove into Tristan’s chest and, at the same moment, a cry came down the stairs and into the library.
Scarlet.
“Why the hell did you leave her alone?” Tristan yelled at Gabriel as he rushed out of the library and up to Scarlet’s room.
Tristan froze when he saw her.
She was on the floor, curled into a ball as she clutched her chest, blood falling from her nose. She was in severe pain—unbearable pain cutting straight through her heart and filling Tristan’s gut. She was groaning and gasping and crying and—
“Scar.” He dropped to the floor beside her, all reason gone from his mind as he lifted her gently and held her against him.
“Do not leave me, Hunter,” she begged. “I do not want to be alone. I am scared and—ah!” She clutched at her chest again and Tristan felt her torture echo in his body.
“There has to be something that will take away her pain!” Tristan yelled at Nathaniel who was rushing into the room.
He shook his head and hurried to Scarlet’s side, looking into her eyes as she cried. “You need to leave, Tristan. Your nearness is making it worse.”
Dammit, he was right.
Tristan kissed her forehead once, then twice, wishing he could take away her pain, before reluctantly releasing her body and walking to the door.
Disbelief, fear, horror, helplessness.
This was all his fault.
Scarlet shook her head. “I do not want Tristan to leave me—” She whimpered as her pain intensified and, without another thought, Tristan turned from the room and left the house.
Out the door and into the backfield, he put as much distance between himself and Scarlet as possible so her heart would stop breaking. But her pain stayed with him, biting into his chest with every pulse.
He wasn’t far enough, he wasn’t fast enough.
He began to run, but her pain was still there, reverberating in his chest.
Picking up speed, he ran until the night around him was a blur of shadows and wind and Scarlet’s pain was soon overshadowed by his own pain, his muscles pulling tight and hot, sucking the air from his lungs in his distance from her.
He pressed on, through the trees and wind, until his physical pain had him gnashing his teeth, burning from the inside out. The piece of his heart that lived in Scarlet was screaming at the expanse between them, but he could not give in. He needed to run…farther…away…
His limbs started to shake, his body broke into fever and his organs began to twist until he thought he was in hell.
He felt for her and grunted at the pain that still lingered in her chest. Through blinding torment and retching muscles, Tristan pushed forward before falling to his knees. He began crawling through the dirt. Farther away. He just needed to get…farther…away… He dug at the earth, trying to force his gnarled body to obey his wishes and then—
Nothing.
The pain vanished, leaving numbness in its wake.
Scarlet was gone.
He could no longer feel her.
Letting his body fall completely to the ground, he untwisted his limbs and roared into the night.
He had killed Scarlet.
CHAPTER 13
London 1695
Far past midnight, Gabriel stumbled into the house he shared with Tristan—months of gambling had robbed him of his own house—the bright moon giving away his shadow even as he tried to keep in the dark.
He closed the door behind his drunken body and winced at the heavy sound it threw into the room. The last thing he needed was a lecture from Tristan about his depraved lifestyle.
No one had responded well to Scarlet’s shocking and horrible death. Nathaniel had locked himself in his home across town, determined to study medicine so he could heal her when she returned.
Tristan barely spoke a word and rarely made eye contact, spending his every waking hour in the forest shooting arrows and throwing weapons at innocent trees.
And Gabriel was back to feeling the full weight of the curse, painfully aware of the absence of joy from his chest. An absence alcohol, cards, and women seemed to temporarily soothe.
In two weeks time, they were leaving for the New World. Nathaniel was hopeful about this venture, as was Gabriel, but no one knew Tristan’s thoughts on the matter, since the brute rarely spoke more than a single word at a time.
Maybe a new land was just what they all needed to get back to normal. Whatever normal was.
Gabriel crept softly down the hall and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no sign of his twin.
“We need to talk.” Tristan’s body appeared out of nowhere.
Startled, Gabriel jumped back. “Dear God, man. Why must you insist on hiding in the shadows? I’m beginning to think the vampire rumors about you are true.”
“This is no time for jokes. I need help.” Tristan sniffed and gave Gabriel a despairing look. “Are you drunk again?”
Gabriel cursed under his breath, knowing he smelled of alcohol and smoke and wishing Tristan were a little less good and a little more fun. “No?”
“Right.” Tristan moved past him and into the parlor, striking a few matches and lighting the room’s lanterns.
“Oh, so now light is appropriate.”
“Shut up and listen.”
Gabriel sighed and plopped down into the nearest chair, almost falling out of it as he miscalculated the center of the cushion and sat on the edge of the armrest instead. He quickly regained his balance and smoothed his hands down his jacket.
He was not drunk.
“Scarlet is going to come back to life again.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I refuse to cause her death. Again.” Tristan ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “But I cannot be trusted.”
Gabriel squinted as Tristan’s tall frame went out of focus for the briefest of moments.
“Which is why I need you.” Tristan pressed hard against Gabriel’s chest until he had no choice but to give him his undivided—albeit blurry—attention.
Plucking his brother’s hand away, Gabriel said, “Right. Let’s hear it, then. What is it you need?”
Tristan looked at him for a long moment, his green eyes more ablaze than usual and the hairs on Gabriel’s neck began to prick. He scratched at them in a desperate attempt to soothe his nerves. Something was off.
Tristan inhaled slowly. “I need you to keep me from Scarlet.”
Gabriel blinked. “I don’t follow.”
“Do you still love her?”
Well, now that was a loaded question.
Narrowi
ng his eyes, Gabriel leaned back. “Is this a trap?” He tugged at his collar. “Are you planning to punch me?”
“Just answer the question.”
Gabriel twitched his lips. Confessing that you still love your brother’s girl was a dangerous move. And it almost always merited a punch in the face.
Ah, what the hell. How bad could a fist really hurt a numb face?
“Yes,” Gabriel admitted. “Yes, I love her still.”
“And she loves you,” Tristan said more to himself than to Gabriel.
Gabriel blew through his lips. “Well, that’s debatable. I mean, there was a time, maybe—“
“She loves you, Gabriel.” Tristan eyes cut into him. “I felt it when she was alive. I felt her love for you.”
Ah, yes. Tristan could feel Scarlet. A lovely side-effect of their semi-immortal connection—wait, what?
Scarlet loved Gabriel?
Gabriel’s ears and cheeks heated. He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “She does not love me as she loves you.”
“Not yet.”
“Not ever.” Regardless of what Tristan had felt in her, Scarlet loved Tristan and he loved her and blah, blah, blah.
“It doesn’t matter what Scarlet feels for me,” Tristan said. “I need you to take her away from me.”
At this, Gabriel tried to sober up. “Hold on there, brother,” He stood, pleased with himself for not wobbling. “I will not take Scarlet away from you. And she wouldn’t let me even if I tried.”
“If you don’t remove her from my reach, I will grasp onto her in every fragile life she has, bringing her immediate death.”
Gabriel scoffed. “No, you won’t.”
“But I will,” Tristan said. Warning clouded his voice and a sharp shine in his eyes had Gabriel questioning just who, exactly, was standing before him. It certainly was not the same Tristan he’d grown up with, carefree and happy. And it was not the Tristan who was so typically rational and generous.
No. This Tristan was desperate and wild, with a darkness Gabriel had never seen before.
He rubbed the side of his face. “Are you telling me you have such little control over yourself that you can’t keep your hands off of Scarlet—even to save her life?”