"I don't want you anywhere near him."
Sera sighed impatiently. "I'll stay on the other side of the room, and you can stand right by my side. Someone needs to tell him something, and I'm the least threatening of you all."
"Fine," Liam relented. "But you'll be staying in the kitchen, far away from him."
Sera smiled as she looked at everyone.
"I can't believe we have to go through this again," Doug muttered.
"I can't believe we have to deal with another sickening couple," Jack snorted.
"Ugh!" they groaned.
Chapter Fifteen
Isabelle knew he was gone the minute she woke up. A crushing sense of loss descended on her as a dull ache bloomed in her chest. She scrunched her eyes closed as she tried to shove the suffering away. It was what she wanted, after all —what she longed for since he arrived. She should be happy he was gone; she was going to be happy he was gone. She opened her eyes and blinked against the harsh light filling the living room.
"You're awake." She turned to find her mother sitting on the other couch; her hands clasped before her as she worriedly scanned Isabelle's face. "How do you feel?"
"He's gone." It wasn't what she meant to say, but the words popped out anyway.
Her mother's eyes darkened as she nodded briskly. "He left after he brought you home."
Isabelle closed her eyes against the sorrow in her chest. She was going to be happy, she told herself. Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to shed them. "Why?" she whispered.
"I don't know. He left before any of us could talk to him."
"I hurt," she murmured, not sure if she was talking about her longing for Stefan or the discomfort in her body.
"What hurts?" her mother asked.
'Everything!' she wanted to cry in anguish. "My body," she lied. "I'm sore."
"It will get better." Her mother moved over to kneel before her. Isabelle opened her eyes to meet her violet-blue gaze. "About Stefan—"
"I'm glad he's gone," she said forcefully. "Now my life will get back to normal."
Her mother's eyes searched her face. "Yes, I'm sure it will." Isabelle closed her eyes firmly; she refused to see the pity in her mother's gaze. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes."
"I'll be right back."
Isabelle listened as her mother moved away. The annoying tears were threatening to come again, and she refused to shed them. Not for him. He didn't deserve her tears. This was what she wanted, and she was going to rejoice in it. She was going to get her life back, and she was going to forget he ever existed.
Even as she told herself this, the pressure in her chest intensified, and a single tear slid free.
The next two days passed by in a blur of melancholy. Isabelle found herself disjointed and exceptionally moody. She yelled at everyone, cried for no reason, and every part of her body felt like a dozen men had beat her. Her heart became a constricted lump of muscle blazing agony through her with every beat. There were times she thought she would die from the pain racking her.
She saw the looks everyone gave her, heard their whispered comments, but she couldn't bring herself to care about any of it. A foggy mess, her mind didn't want to function. She couldn't bring herself to eat, and sleep was the only solitude she found. She would curl up in her bed, drag the comforters over her head, and cry. When she was completely exhausted, sleep would finally claim her.
Then, she would dream of him, and in her dreams, everything was right again. When she woke, the sorrow instantly reclaimed her body and shook her until she broke out in a cold sweat. She would curl into a ball and cry until she was too weak to cry anymore. Then, she would fall back asleep, and the whole process would start again.
On the third day, her need to feed got to her. She made her way upstairs, every step an act of sheer willpower. She felt horrible, she looked terrible, and it was his fault. It didn't matter she’d wanted him to leave, that she’d gotten what she wanted, because she could no longer recall why she wanted it.
She only wanted him to come back, but he’d abandoned her and left her to feel like this. Left her here to suffer while he went off gallivanting, doing whatever he wanted. That thought only made the pain worse, and she tried desperately not to allow herself to think about what he could be doing —and with whom.
The pain didn't ease with every day as she hoped, it only got worse. Much worse. She was beginning to worry if it didn't ease, she would die from it. She never imagined anything could hurt like this, not even when they drained her blood was it this painful. A permanent black cloud of despair hung over her, making it difficult to breathe and live. She felt as if she was missing a piece of herself, the piece making it possible for her to exist.
Ethan was in the kitchen when she made it upstairs. He was always her rock, her best friend, the one person she turned to in times of comfort and need, but she didn't speak to him. She couldn't talk to him.
"Isabelle," he said.
She shook her head, unable to deal with him right now. He took her arm and settled her onto one of the stools before grabbing a bag of blood and opening it for her. She accepted it and gulped it down before tossing it aside.
"That's the first time I've seen you feed since you were eight," he remarked.
Isabelle looked into his warm, worried green eyes and burst into tears. Ethan stood in stunned silence before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. He rocked her as she gripped his shirt and buried her head in his solid chest. The comfort she always found in him was nowhere to be found now. She was suffering too much. She cried herself out but still clung to him, unable to move for fear she'd fall off the stool.
"It will be all right," he soothed.
"No it won't," she whispered. "I want to go to bed."
"You can't spend the rest of your life asleep, Issy."
She started crying again, but she was so exhausted only dry sobs racked her. Ethan helped her climb to her feet, and led her into the living room. She curled up on the couch; drawing her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them as she tried to ease the suffering of her body. He sat nervously beside her, uncertain of what to do, of how to help her as he stroked her hair until she fell back asleep.
He looked up as David, his mother, and Mike came through the door. "I thought you said he couldn't hurt her!" he snapped.
"He'll be back," his mother said. "He has to come back."
"And if he doesn't?" Ethan demanded.
His mother's eyes filled with tears as her gaze met his.
"They say one can't live without the other," David said. "They go insane and have to be destroyed, or they kill themselves."
Ethan swallowed as his hand convulsed in Isabelle's hair. He’d never seen her look so bad. No matter how much sleep she got, there were still shadows under her eyes. She was so pale she was almost translucent, and he could see the tiny blue veins in her temples, eyelids, and neck. Her hair was lackluster, its natural shine gone. Her face was pinched, even in her sleep, and she had lost a good five pounds.
"She'll die," he admitted.
"Maybe, maybe not. We don't know how it all works. They may not have known each other long enough; they may not have formed a strong enough bond for it to end that way," Mike said hopefully.
"They formed a bond," Sera said. "Ian said it was Stefan who knew she was in trouble the other night, and he would have killed Ethan if David hadn't managed to get through to him. Their bond is strong already. Trust me, I know."
"Why would he leave then?" Ethan inquired.
"I don't know. Maybe he thought it would be for the best, but if Isabelle is going through this much distress, then so is he."
"And if he's not? If you're wrong about that, and he doesn't come back?"
"I don't know, Ethan!" she cried, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I don't know!"
Isabelle rested her chin on top of her drawn up knees. She wrapped her arms around them as she stared at the moonlight spilling across the lake. It t
ook every bit of strength and energy she had to get out here, but her mother insisted on a walk, and was too tired to put up an argument. Her mother sat beside her, gazing out at the lake as she rocked the swing back and forth.
"I miss him," Isabelle mumbled.
"I know you do."
"I never wanted this," she whispered. "I never wanted to feel like this." Her voice broke on a sob; she paused to take a deep breath before she could go on. "I stayed away from everyone, stayed away from humans, just so this wouldn't happen."
Her mother looked at her questioningly. "So what wouldn't happen?"
"This! Look at me! I'm a mess!" she cried. "I hurt so bad I can barely breathe. I never wanted to be like you and dad. I didn't want it! Before he came, I hadn't cried since Ethan and Ian cut off my hair, and now I can't stop. I feel like I'm dying! I never wanted to feel this vulnerable because of another person!"
"Isabelle, hiding away from the world wasn't going to stop anything. What is meant to be is meant to be. You two are supposed to be together, no matter what you did, you weren't going to change that."
"No, we're not!" she yelled. "He wouldn't have left then! What is the matter with me?"
"Nothing," her mom assured her. "There is nothing wrong with you, Isabelle."
Isabelle hugged her legs tighter as she fought against the tremors racking her body. "Yes, there is. Abby and Vicky like every guy they meet. I've never felt anything, for anyone, until I met him."
Her mom’s hand curled around the back of Isabelle's head. "Because a part of you knew he was out there, that he would come for you. Vicky and Abby may not have that person."
"Why couldn't that be me? They want soul mates. I don't. I don't even know if he is or not. I don't know anything anymore." She leaned against her mother as she hugged her. "I never wanted my life, my existence, to hinge on someone else's. I know what you and dad have is special, but if he dies, then you die, and vice versa. I never wanted to be so vulnerable! Now... now..."
She broke off, unable to speak through her sobs. She buried her head in her mother's shoulder.
"It's a beautiful thing, Isabelle," she whispered. "It's frightening, and it's scary, but it is truly wonderful. What you discovered is something magical, something most people never find. Something your sisters, your brothers, and The Stooges may never find."
Isabelle shuddered as she felt Stefan's loss deep in her bones. "It doesn't matter, he's gone," she whispered.
Her mom’s hand stilled on her hair. "You could try and find him."
Isabelle shook her head. "He doesn't want me. Otherwise, he wouldn't have left."
"Do you love him?"
Isabelle closed her eyes as she contemplated her mother's question. "I don't know. I didn't even like him, but he made me feel things I've never felt before, made me feel complete, and whole, and safe, and so many other things," she finished shyly.
Her mom chuckled. "I understand.”
Isabelle knew she did, but it didn't help her. "Do you think he is my soul mate?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You didn't see him when you were injured, Isabelle. He wanted to attack everyone who came near you, including your father. He did attack Ethan."
Isabelle shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to Ethan if David hadn't intervened. It would have killed her if Ethan was seriously hurt.
"He was losing control of himself,” her mom continued. “I think that's why he went away. It's a frightening thing. When your father went through it, he was confused, and angry, and scared he would kill everyone, including me."
"Daddy would never hurt you."
"He wouldn't have meant to, but he would have if I had insisted on staying human. It is confusing, Isabelle, and it is frightening, but it’s worth it. I promise you that much."
"What do I do?" she whispered forlornly.
"I don't know sweetie."
Isabelle grew silent as she allowed herself to be somewhat comforted by her mother's warm embrace, but it wasn't enough. She had fought him so relentlessly, and he left because of it. Now all she wanted was to have him back. She wouldn't fight him now if he came back. She wished there was some way to bring him back, some way to reach out to him and tell him to come back. Tears slid down her cheeks as she closed her eyes.
The air was warm, and still, not even a breeze stirred it, and yet, something did. Isabelle sat up, and her gaze darted toward the woods.
"Isabelle," her mom said.
Her legs dropped to the ground, and she stood. She saw him then, standing at the edge of the forest, his eyes as black as the night surrounding him. Her heart leapt into her throat as happiness burst through her. For the first time in days, her body wasn't dying, and she could breathe without difficulty. The moonlight spilled over the rigid set of his jaw as he took a step forward. A small cry escaped, and her paralysis broke. She raced across the short distance separating them and threw her arms around his neck as tears of joy spilled down her cheeks.
Chapter Sixteen
A small growl of pleasure escaped him as he pulled her against him. All the tense anger and burning fire searing him for the last three days evaporated the instant he touched her. Everything was finally right, everything finally made sense again. Sera stood, nodded to him, and slipped away.
He wrapped his hand in Isabelle's hair, pulled her face out of his shoulder, and savagely claimed her mouth. She whimpered against the brutality of his kiss, but he couldn't stop himself, couldn't ease it. He needed her like a drowning man needed air. Needed her with a longing so powerful it shattered the tenuous thread of control he barely managed to hold on to for the past three days.
Her mouth parted beneath his, and he thrust his tongue inside to taste her. His control gradually returned as her sweetness washed over him. It caused the wildness within him to diminish as she eased the torment haunting his soul for centuries. She lifted the darkness clawing to break free of him over the past three days.
Her hands slid around his neck as she pressed herself firmly against him, returning his kiss with an urgency matching his own. He released her hair and grabbed her waist, lifting her. She gasped as he settled her on his waist and her long legs instinctively wrapped around him.
She gazed at him as tears slid down her cheeks, and her violet eyes smoldered with passion. She scanned his face reverently, looking at him as if she was afraid to believe he was here. Something inside him changed, something different came forth, something he’d never experienced before.
He cared for her more than anyone he’d ever met, he’d missed her, and he’d come to realize he liked her infuriating ways. He liked her laughter, her smile, her independence, her strength, her determination, and her courage. He even liked the little vindictive streak she exhibited with her brothers.
The past few days were nothing but hell for him. He couldn’t do anything but think about her. He could barely function, felt as if he was on fire as his veins burned with her absence. The demon within him was constantly at the forefront, and his sanity held by a tenuous thread that came close to shredding completely. He hadn't slept in three days as he'd been unable to settle down long enough to let his body relax enough for sleep, and he hadn't fed.
He’d nearly killed a man in a bar because the man accidentally bumped into him. Fortunately, he regained control of himself in time, but never before had he lost it like that. Not even with Ethan.
He had picked up a woman, taken her back to her place, determined to try and ease the burning in his body. Revulsion filled him the moment he touched her. He felt nothing for her, experienced no sense of arousal. He was so enraged, that he hadn't fed off her because he knew he would kill her if he did.
After that, he decided he needed to come back here and see her. He had to sort everything out, to know if she hated him for what he had done to her brother, what he would have done to her father. He needed to know if she could forgive him for causing her to be wounded at the club. He was determined to see h
er and ease his suffering.
When she ran to him, all the desolation of the past three days vanished instantly. She didn't hate him, and he knew she would no longer fight him. She’d was going through the same torture. He’d felt her distress far down the road, sensed her misery, and it propelled him to faster speeds. He’d become desperate to ease her suffering, desperate for her to never hurt again.
Seeing her, touching her, he knew this was where he belonged. She was the only one who could ease the torment he was experiencing —alleviate the suffering of his entire existence. He didn't know why, and right now he didn't care. He just needed her, now.
He reclaimed her mouth; his hands dug into her thick hair as he carried her out of the woods and across the field. She met his hunger with her own as her hands curled into his back and her tears dried. He was so hard it hurt, and he throbbed painfully. She wiggled against his erection, moaning as she pressed herself more firmly against him. He groaned in delight as she lifted herself up and slid down again.
He almost spilled himself then as a tremor racked his body. If she didn't stop, he was going to lay her down and take her in the middle of the field. He ripped her shirt up, his hand skimmed over her flat stomach, and delicate ribcage before taking hold of her breast. She moaned and ground more forcefully against him as she bit his lower lip. He grunted as he pulled her bra down, determined to feel her flesh against his. Her erect nipple seared into the palm of his hand as he rubbed and kneaded her.
"Stefan!" she cried as her head fell back.
The passion in her voice only served to urge him faster. He was in a near frenzy by the time he made it to the storm doors. He bent, flung the door open, and slipped down the stairs. He paused only long enough to throw it closed before striding across the room to the bed. Laying her down, he fell on top of her, unable to part with her for even a second. He took her lips again, driving his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth with deep, forceful thrusts imitating what was to come as he savored the wonderful taste of her.
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