Betrayal: The Awakening

by Kira Hillins

  “I’m filthy.” She glanced at his reflection in the mirror. “There wouldn’t happen to be a shower in this castle?”

  “No. I will prepare you a bath.” His stomach growled as he left the room.

  Goosebumps spread over her sore skin. This was all too surreal. Mac had been right about him all along. Tristan wasn’t a zombie or bat or some unknown creature. He was a vampire. Though he’d made no attempt to hurt her, it didn’t mean he never would. After all, she was filled with the essence he needed to survive, and he was hungry.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Lost and Damned

  Jack massaged his temple as he paced Anna’s hotel room. “How could she hang up on me?”

  Anna had gotten herself into some sort of trouble. Or maybe she’d met another man and decided she didn’t love him anymore. Then again, she never said she loved him. She was happy with the way things were in their relationship. He should know that meant she would never fall in love with him. He should just forget about her and go home.

  Every time he thought about leaving, he couldn’t. He loved Anna so much. She would come around and fall in love with him. They’d get married and have kids that grew up to be doctors too. Then, after their kids had gone on to live their lives, they would retire in a big beach house on the coast. Their lives would be comfortable and full of love until the day they died in each other’s arms.

  It was a nice dream, and one that calmed his thoughts about her having an affair. That meant she was in trouble. He’d heard it in her voice. Something was very off.

  A knock came to the door. The housekeeper had stopped by several times that morning, but he’d told her to come back later to clean. He’d put the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob so she’d leave him alone. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away.

  “Damn it,” he whispered through clenched teeth. Where could Anna be? This was all wrong. In the years he’d known her, she’d never gone on any excursion through the woods—at least not with him, and not in another country.

  The door handle jiggled then the lock turned. If housekeeping was trying to get in to clean the room, they would’ve unlocked it with the key and come in. Whoever this person was, they were trying to be discreet.

  The lock clicked. The doorknob turned. Jack crept to the fireplace and picked up the wrought iron poker from the hearth. He gripped it tightly as the door creaked open.

  Adrenaline pumped through him as a man in blue jeans and heavy brown vest entered the room. He strode to the edge of the bed and stared down at it for a moment.

  Holding the poker like a baseball bat, Jack crept up behind the intruder. He raised it over his head. As the man turned around, Jack swung.

  “Whoa!” The intruder cried out.

  Jack tried to stop from hitting the man who looked scared to death, but it was too late. The blunt edge of the poker popped the man between the eyes.

  “Who the hell are you?” Jack held out his weapon, ready to take another swing if he had to.

  “Mason, Mason Hershel!” Mason touched his forehead. “Damn it! You almost took off my head!”

  “What the hell are you doing in Anna’s room?”

  Mason leaned on the large white dresser beside him. He looked in the mirror, inspecting the scrape between his eyes. “I could ask you the same question.”

  “I’m her fiancé... Oh no!” Jack’s heart sank to his stomach. Nausea crept up into his throat “Please tell me you’re not the reason she didn’t want to come home with me.” He tossed the poker to the floor. The clang was loud in his ears, but he didn’t care. “I should’ve known she had something going on behind my back.”

  Mason pulled a badge from his jacket pocket. “I’m sheriff of Manzanita. Anna got into a pickle while visiting a home with one hell of a history.”

  “Wait…what?” All the strength left Jack’s body. “What do you mean she got in a pickle?”

  Mason shrugged. “She was supposed to come back to town last weekend, but never showed. She sure as hell wasn’t supposed to leave the country until I questioned her and her mother.”

  “What does Betty have to do with anything?”

  Mason glanced around the room. “Did she leave any luggage? Her purse, maybe?”

  “I didn’t find anything when I got here.” Jack watched as Mason pulled down the bedcover. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on? Maybe I can help.”

  “I can’t discuss any ongoing police investigations. But…” Mason leaned into the empty closet beside the fireplace. “During Anna’s visit to the old house, she found a dead body in the basement.”

  Jack thought about the phone call he’d received from her a few weeks ago. The timing fit. Anna had discovered a dead body, and he’d yelled at her for not calling him. “She never told me.”

  “Do you know where she is?” Mason went through the dresser.

  “There’s nothing here and she hasn’t been here in four days.”

  “Four days?” Mason scratched his head. “Well this goes beyond the standards of good police work, involving a citizen in an investigation. But since you’re closest to Anna, maybe you can enlighten me on a few things.”

  “I’m sure you know more than I do. That woman is so full of secrets I can’t get her to talk about.”

  Mason sat on the recliner near the fireplace. “Did Anna ever talk to you about the man who took over her father’s house around the time he was murdered?”

  Jack’s mouth popped open. Could things get any weirder with her? Exactly how many secrets had she kept from him?

  “She’s never talked about her real parents, except that her mother died giving birth to her.”

  “Her father was found in a field not far from his home about six months before Anna was born.” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever heard her talk about someone named Tristan Ashfield?”

  “I’ve heard her mention the name. Do you think she came here to find him?”

  “Without a doubt.” Mason drew a heavy sigh. “She thinks he murdered her parents. I’m afraid of what might happen if she finds him. And if she’s already confronted him...well, all I know is he’s a dangerous character.”

  “My God!” Jack paced. Tears of anger came to his eyes. He wanted to hit something—the wall, the door, it didn’t matter. “What if he has her locked up somewhere? What if she’s dead?”

  “Don’t lose your head. There’s more to this story, I’m sure.” He flashed a simple grin and nodded. A strange gleam set in his eyes. “I found the name of a woman.” He slurred as if he’d had one too many shots of whiskey. “I believe if you come with me to her ancestral home, we will find answers.”

  “What do you mean by ancestral home? Where is it?”

  Mason cleared his throat. “It’s where all nocturnal people sleep—the cemetery.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Knowing

  Anna sat at the wooden table in the kitchen, second glass of Merlot in hand, stomach growling. Without food in her belly, the wine had gone straight to her head, but she didn’t mind. This was the first time since she’d arrived at the castle that she relaxed.

  The room was cozy with the open fire roaring on the east wall. The open stove on the west carried a different kind of flame, one with hickory-scented wood. A small pig roasted on an iron rod and emitted the most wonderful aroma.

  This would be the first real meal in almost a week. Soup and protein bars from her backpack had been lifesavers, but she had eaten the last of her rations yesterday.

  Juices sizzled as Tristan sliced off a piece of meat. As he set it on a ceramic plate in front of her, her mouth watered. She tore off a piece of meat and stuck it in her mouth. Her tongue burned, but she didn’t care. Her stomach growled like a starving dog.

  “Oh, god, this is so good.” She stuffed more into her mouth before she realized Tristan watched her. She wiped the grease from her chin on the back of her hand then snorted a laugh. “Sorry, I’m making a pig out of myself. But thank you so much for t
his.”

  “You are welcome.”

  Tristan started to leave, but she caught his hand. “Sit with me tonight. So we can talk.”

  Every night since she’d run away, he’d left her alone. Much to her surprise, he sat on the chair across from her. “What shall we talk about?”

  “I have a few questions, if that’s okay.” She smiled as she tore off a piece of meat then placed it on her watering tongue. She indulged in it for a moment then returned her attention to him. “I’ve been wondering how you can fly.”

  There was that look he carried when he was amused. This time, the slight grin at the corner of his mouth spread to both corners. “Mac asked me this once.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I never replied.” His response was monotone. “I do not know how to explain it.”

  “In some of the old horror movies, a vampire turns into a bat.” Embarrassed for making such a silly comment, she took another salty bite of pork. “I mean, you obviously didn’t turn into a bat. But, maybe you have some sort of wings that nobody can see.”

  He rested his elbows on the tabletop. Anna was glad to see him get comfortable for once while they carry on a meaningful conversation. “Mac believed that I am a vampire. I assure you that I cannot morph into creatures. I cannot make someone immortal with a bite. I am but one man with an eternal illness.”

  “Your skin burns in daylight. Do you think, if you stood out in it long enough, you would turn to ash? Do you think a stake through the heart would kill you?”

  “Would a stake through your heart kill you?” A curious expression flooded his face, as if color blended through his pale skin, but only for a moment, and then it was gone. He clasped his hands together. “I am immortal as I sit here with you, but death is uncertain. I imagine the sun against my skin, I imagine a stake through my heart, and I imagine a fall from the highest cliff might indeed bring an end to my soul. But I have not tried, nor have I dared to dream of my death since I made the promise to watch over you.”

  His voice was gentle as he said his heartfelt words. Tears sprouted in her eyes. Her stomach growled for more food, but she refused to eat now. His words opened her eyes to his darkness, just enough to notice the struggle within him.

  “Tristan…”

  “I apologize for saying such things to you.” He lifted his hand to her face, but then returned it to the table.

  She wiped away her tears. “Do you feel pain?” she asked, sniffling.

  “I feel what any normal man feels, sorrow, pain, and…love.”

  Love? The warmth in her face grew as she pinched meat between her fingers. The only way to know was to ask. “Can you…you know…love?”

  Tristan cocked his head to the side as if he searched for reasoning behind her question. Then with an arch of his brows, she could tell he understood.

  “Though I struggle with the darkness within, my body is made of skin, bone and muscle. Although different than mortal men, blood still pumps through my veins. I cannot explain it any other way.”

  Thinking of him joining her in bed sent a jolt of electricity through her. To feel his arms around her, caressing, touching her beneath the warm blankets on her bed, it would be just as she’d always imagined it, beautiful.

  “I’m sorry for being forward. I think I had too much wine.”

  “Do not be coy with me.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “It is a logical question.”

  His charm worked her into a daze. All this time she’d tried to hate him, when it was obvious she cared for him. If she didn’t break the spell, she’d jump over this table and into his arms.

  “Crosses!” She blurted out. “Do they hurt you?”

  Tristan lowered his hand from her face and grinned. “I have never touched one.”

  “Well, I don’t ever want you to, just in case.”

  The crackle of the burning fires enchanted her. Or maybe he enchanted her, for she longed for more conversation with him. His gaze was deep, as if she carried harmless sunlight within and he couldn’t look away.

  She had so many questions, but was afraid to ask them aloud. Did he yearn to touch her? Did he want to feel her warm skin against his cold body? Did he covet her blood?

  “Your mind races.” His gentle voice broke the silence. “Tell me your thoughts.”

  “It’s nothing.” She was too afraid to ask about his past and about his ties to her parents. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know now that she was with him. Now that everything was going well tonight.

  He leaned back in his chair. “There are secrets you keep, but wish to tell them to me.”

  “You think I’m hiding something?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave a short shrug. “If I tell you what’s on my mind, you might get angry and leave.”

  “How will you know unless you ask?”

  He made her nervous in more ways than one—one being the fear he might lose his temper, and another she would lose herself in his arms. Whatever the cost, she needed to know why Mac had sent her to find him.

  “Mac kept a journal…mostly about you. He sent me to find you. I need to know why.”

  Tristan’s eyes blazed as he rose from the table. The chair tipped over onto the floor behind him. His canines flashed as he growled. The vicious dog was ready to attack, but he turned away. He paced the fire as if gathering composure, or maybe to search for something solid to punch his fist through.

  “Mac promised he would never tell you of our discussions!” The deep shade of red made the black in his eyes nonexistent. He slammed his hands down on the table in front of her then swiped the plate of food off the table. The brown ceramic piece shattered against the stone wall then fell to the floor like drops of hail. “What more do you know about me?”

  Anna rose and backed away from him. She’d hit a nerve. Why was he so upset? To get such a reaction meant he hid things from her, important things, secrets kept between him and Mac.

  Confused, not expecting him to be furious, she prepared to leave, but then stopped in the open door. “I won’t run away.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Lips quivering, she stepped across the cool stone until she stood rigid before him. “I’m not moving from this spot until I get answers.” Unless he picked her up and moved her from it. “What’s so important that Mac’s dying wish was for me to find you?”

  His eyes cooled to black. As his canines retracted, he swiped a lock of her hair away from her wet eye. “I am not a man to put on a pedestal.” He spoke in a much calmer voice. “Follow me, and I will share my past with you.”

  He held out his hand. She hesitated, but then accepted his offer.

  ****

  Her hand was warm against his skin. He tried not to enjoy the physical contact, but how could he not. It had been so long since he’d held a woman’s hand in a delicate way. There was no woman he’d fathom doing such a thing with, except for Anna. She had a power over him that he couldn’t ignore, though, for her sake, he knew he must.

  He led her through the door and into the great hall. They strolled in silence down the high-arched corridor between suits of armor that reflected the flames from the torches on the wall. They were lined up against the wall in perfect stance, regarding a lost queen as Tristan led her across the blue runner.

  Anna let go of his hand. She studied the plumes on the silver breastplate and traced the outline with her fingers. “I remember this design on the armor in the house on the hill.”

  “Yes. The armor was a gift from my friend. It carries no other significance for me.”

  He took her hand once more. He guided her through tall wooden double doors and into a vaulted room lit with candles and a roaring fire that seemed to take up the entire east wall. There were shelves filled with books discolored and dusty from the centuries past.

  She wandered to the center of the room where she admired the cherry-stained table. It was still as elegant as the day Tristan had bought it. He’d decorated it with a red table ru
nner and golden candlesticks he’d brought in from the unused rooms.

  Gerard’s carved wooden box sat at the edge near a bottle of ink. His quill pen still lay on parchment paper as if he had written something down before he fell to his death.

  “What happened to make the person not come back and finish their writing?”

  Tristan led her to a dust-covered painting of his friend. His long red hair waved around his rounded face. Large green eyes beamed beneath that husky brow he’d known so well. He could almost hear his hefty laughter as he stared at him through the thick dust.

  “This is Gerard William Scot, once lord of this castle.” Tristan’s heart sank. He hadn’t spoken his full name in centuries. “He and I were comrades, before my illness. When my father left, he brought me into his home and took care of me.”

  “Is he the one who jumped from the window?”

  “Yes. I…betrayed him.” So many years since that night, yet he would never forgive himself for what he’d done. He strode to the fire and stared at the wavering flames. “My memories of that night taunt me. It was the time I fell into Madeline’s charm.”

  “Madeline?” Anna ran her hand across the ragged black cape on the back of the chair. Dust flew into the air around her.

  “That is the garment she wore on that night.” He spoke like a confession to a dreadful sin. “I could not resist her. I believed she was a visitor in the castle. I had no idea she was Gerard’s wife.”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “You had an affair with his wife?”

  “Yes.” He hated the look of disappointment in her eyes, but he understood. Even if he explained why he’d slept with Madeline, the regret would still be there. “For two months we had our affair. She would come to visit me at my home, and I would visit her here. I had no intention to have a relationship with her, but every time we met, I could not find the will to break it off. Until...”