by ERIN BEDFORD
Needing to break the silence, I asked, “What you said last night to my father about you know ...?” I trailed off, tucking my hair behind my ear and ducking my head. I couldn’t bring myself to say the actual words. It would make it too real.
“About what?” Patrick asked, his voice closer to me than it had been before, making me jump slightly.
Thankfully, it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the blush on my face. Or at least, I hoped not. I knew he could see my hands wringing in front of me as I tried to figure out how to ask my question without actually saying it. Forcing myself to stop fidgeting, I crossed my arms tightly over my chest.
“When you said that you ... you know ... about me.” I chewed on my bottom lip and kept my eyes down, not daring to meet his gaze.
“You mean when I said that I loved you?” His shoulder brushed mine, and I glanced up. A small smile played on his lips, and I knew he was laughing at my discomfort.
A bit breathless, I murmured, “Yeah, that.”
“Didn’t I say before that I never say anything I don’t mean?” he raised a brow. “It includes that as well.”
I glanced away from the intensity of his gaze, not able to stop the grin that spread across my lips. “Oh.”
Yeah, I’m an articulate one.
There wasn’t much else to say after that. I wasn’t about to declare my love for him since I was still getting used to the idea of liking the guy. Plus, there’s the whole plotting to destroy his people, maybe even him and myself included. That kind of put a damper on the whole love confessions.
Suddenly, I was pressed up against the wall of the tunnel, Patrick’s breath hot against my skin. I wiggled against him, not really struggling, just trying to find a more comfortable position.
“What was that for?” I asked, looking up into his eyes and trying not to focus on how good he felt against me. How was it possible that we fit together so right? Like we were two puzzle pieces meant to be together? And when did I get so whimsical?
“To stop you from thinking so much,” he answered, brushing his nose against mine, his lips so close to mine I thought he would kiss me.
I anticipated it and dared to admit I wanted it. I’d never wanted anything more than Patrick’s lips against mine. So, when he shifted away from me, and I moved with him, I felt like a splash of freezing water had landed on me. The chuckle that followed only irritated me more.
Shoving away from him, I stomped down the tunnel. Stupid vampires. Stupid emotions. Who had time for romance? I had a world to save.
Chapter 14
About the time we exited the tunnel, my nerves kicked in. I’d just escaped the Core, and here I was going back? What was I, crazy?
No, just too selfless. I couldn’t leave Marsha in here the way he was without trying to help him. After all, it was partly my fault they punished him. Especially because it was my fault they punished him the way they did. No one was more vindictive than a jealous woman.
“Do you want to go back?” Patrick asked as he helped me up the stairs. I hated that he could read me so well now. I wanted to freak out all on my own without someone there to tell me it will be all right. At the same time, I liked that he could anticipate my needs.
What could I say? I was a complicated mess.
“No.” I shook my head, a determination filling me. “I can’t. I’d feel like a coward if I didn’t at least try.”
“No one would know. Not even Marsha,” Patrick reminded me with a small squeeze of my hand.
“Yeah.” I dipped my head down to out adjoined hands and then back up to his face. “But I would, and that’s not something I can live with.”
Patrick inclined his head. “Understood.”
He led me away from the door which had opened into a part of the garden I’d never seen. Many hedges were surrounding it, and when the door shut, vines covered the top, hiding it in the bushes. If I didn’t know it was there, I’d have missed it which was probably the point.
“When we get inside, let me do the talking,” Patrick explained, looping my arm through his as if we were just taking a nightly stroll. “I know it will be hard for you to hold your tongue but please, for both our sakes, try.”
The warning look he gave me made me purse my lips. I could keep my mouth shut when I needed to. I wasn’t a complete idiot. Plus, I’d just run away. What would I say to them anyway? Oh, yeah, I went to start a revolt, but I’m back now. Yeah. That would work.
“I’m fine with you taking the lead,” I told him, holding onto his arm tighter as we got closer to the palace. “But don’t think I’ll hold my tongue if you say anything that doesn’t go with the plan.”
Patrick smirked, and I swore he rolled his eyes. “God help me if I go off script.” He squeezed the hand on top of his arm and smiled down at me. “Please, for once, just trust me. Everything will be fine.”
Pfft. Easy for him to say. His heart wasn’t beating like a freight train. Believe me, I could hear it. The reminder that I had super hearing made me take slow deep breaths to try and calm my own rampaging heart. No need to give away the game by accident.
We walked up the path and toward the palace. When we reached the double glass doors, two servants opened them for us with a nod of their head. So far so good. They hadn’t even seemed surprised to see me.
“Who all knows I was gone?” I muttered, leaning so close to Patrick I could smell the soap on his skin as well as his own personal scent. I pulled back before I could rub my face against him to inhale it even more profound. Man, get a grip on your hormones, Clara!
“The Crimson Fold members and Asher obviously,” Patrick spoke at a normal volume, not at all worried about being overheard. “We’ve just told everyone else that you have been sick and cooped up in our room.”
“Our room?” I squeaked, my eyes brows shooting up my forehead. “When did we get a room?”
“About the time you left,” Patrick said all nonchalantly as if it weren’t that big of a deal.
I stopped in my tracks, jerking him to a stop with me. “Don’t you think that’s something you should have told me about before this?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low so that I didn’t attract unwanted attention. “We’re not even close to the ‘sharing a room’ phase.”
Patrick clucked his tongue and sighed. “It was the only way to make sure no one checked on you. Now, they think we are helplessly in love, and I am the doting husband, caring for you myself.”
My nose wrinkled up and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, doesn’t that just make you look so great. What about me? How do you think that makes me look?”
Raising a brow, Patrick said, “Like someone who isn’t plotting to take down the entire government.”
Frowning hard, I tried to think of a good argument but came up empty. With a frustrated huff, I stomped down the hallway, no longer playing the loving couple. I assumed Patrick would follow, not that I bothered to look. It wasn’t until I tried to turn toward where Marsha’s room was that he stopped me.
“What?” I asked a bit harsher than needed.
Patrick dropped my arm and gestured in the other direction. “Marsha’s room is in the other direction.”
“No,” I said, my lips going into a distinctive oh shape. “His room is this way. I know I’ve been gone a few days, but really, I think I remember it.”
Shaking his head slightly, Patrick said, “Not anymore he doesn’t.”
“What do you mean, not anymore?”
“I mean—”
“Clarabelle!” a screeching voice I had hoped never to hear again interrupted Patrick.
Teeth clenched together, I turned in slow motion. “Zara. What a surprise to see you.”
Zara sauntered over to me, her dark hair slicked back from her face, and the dramatic makeup on her face made her look even more the villain. Thankfully, in this instance, she was fully clothed. I didn’t think I could deal with one more spandex outfit. Though she apparently wasn’t wearing anything under her s
uit jacket. When she moved a certain way, I got way more of an eye full than I wanted or ever needed.
“I should be the one surprised.” Zara grinned viciously. “Aren’t you sick? Oh, wait a second.” She put her hand over her mouth with mock surprise. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t true, and that you’ve been gone this entire time.” The evil glint in her eye told me she didn’t really expect an answer, she was just torturing me as per usual.
“Yeah, nice to see you too, Zara.” I turned away from her, gesturing to an unamused Patrick to come on.
Unfortunately, Zara wasn’t done yet.
“I can’t say how sorry I was to hear you’d left. We really thought you two kids would work out.” She grinned at Patrick and me, but then did something so completely Zara that I really shouldn’t have been surprised. Sliding up against Patrick’s side, she dipped her hands beneath his suit jacket, her face a bit too close to his for my comfort. “And our esteemed leader, you are so merciful to put up with our Clarabelle. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to make up for her behavior. Anything at all.” She licked her lips in what I think she meant to be a seductive way but all I could see was my fist through her face.
Before I could make my daydream a reality, Patrick disentangled Zara’s hands from him and took a step back. “No, thank you. I am perfectly happy with Clarabelle, my wife.” His tone of voice was cold, and even I shivered a bit. To make matters better, he flashed a fang and growled, “And the next time you put your hands on my person or insult Clarabelle in any way, you will find yourself in the dungeon with the rest of the waste of space.”
Zara’s eyes widened, and I could smell the fear wafting off her. Then as soon as it came, her face hardened, her steely gaze shooting over to me before she turned on her heels and marched away.
My mouth dropped open, and I walked over to Patrick. “I can’t believe you did that.” I shook my head, a grin spreading across my face. “I mean, I’d always imagined telling her off like that but you just ... you just did it. And it was like ...” I grabbed my head as if to keep my head from exploding. “Boom. You did it.” I was so excited I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions. I grabbed him by the face and planted one right on his lips.
Patrick grinned at me bemusement in his eyes. “If I’d known I’d get that kind of reaction, I would have done that sooner.”
Smacking him on the shoulder, I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go before we run into anyone else I might have to stab for touching you.”
Following behind Patrick, the closer we got to Marsha’s room, the more my mood darkened. We were really going to do this. We were going to try and get Marsha’s memories back. What if it didn’t work? What if it did? Oh, God. What if he hated me or tried to kill me because of what I’d become? Suddenly, giving him back his memories didn’t seem like such a good idea.
“Clarabelle.” Patrick placed his hand on my shoulder, turning me to look at him. “It’ll be fine. Take deep breaths. If he’s really your friend, if he really cares for you the way he claims, he won’t hate you.”
I glared at him. “Can you stop being so perceptive for a minute and let me freak out?”
Patrick smirked. “Not possible.” He stopped us in front of a door and started to knock but stopped, his hand lowering. “This is your last chance. If we go in there, we must do this, and then there is no turning back. We’ll be declaring war against the Crimson Fold and all that it entails.”
Chewing on my lower lip, I processed what he was saying. Really, I’d already done what he said. So, adding one more sin to the list won’t really make a difference. I might as well go out with a bang.
I met Patrick’s awaiting gaze and nodded. “I’m sure. Let’s do this.” Patrick lifted his hand again, but I grabbed it. “Wait, why is his room over here now?”
Frowning, Patrick seemed reluctant to tell me. “Because he shares a room with Tris now. This is her room.”
My stomach fell out through my butt, and I was frozen in place. Marsha and Tris shared a room now? As in they were together-together? My eyesight went spotty, and I had to hold onto the door frame so I could catch my breath.
I should have known. What did I expect? Tris, the evil monster, had explicitly erased his memories so she could do this to him. Did I think she would be content to have him simply hanging off her arm?
“Clarabelle,” Patrick murmured soothingly, his hand rubbing circles on my back. “Please, we must hurry. You’ll have to have your panic attack later.”
Swallowing and nodding at the same time, something that made my head spin, I tried to pull myself together. As Patrick knocked on the door, I looked at him, like really looked at him. How can he stand it? Here Patrick was helping me bring back someone who was his competition, and now he says he loves me. I know there was no way he thought I didn’t have feelings of Marsha, he’d have to be dense to do so, and I didn’t think Patrick was capable of that. Could someone really be that perfect?
As the door to Marsha’s room opened and the man I’d come to see appeared, I realized something standing there between the two of them. I might care for Marsha, but I was in love with Patrick. That thought scared me more than anything that was to come.
Chapter 15
Marsha looked exactly the way I remembered. Except shirtless. I definitely didn’t expect to see him answering the door shirtless.
“Hello,” Marsha greeted me blankly and then turned to Patrick, a big smile on his face. “Mr. Blordril, so good to see you. My mistress isn’t here right now. Would you like me to call a servant for her?”
I glanced at Patrick with confusion and mouthed ‘Mistress?’ What the hell had Tris done to him? He hadn’t been this bad at the wedding reception. Sure, a bit absent-minded but not like this.
Patrick ignored my silent question and answered Marsha. “No, thank you. We’re actually here to see you. You remember Clarabelle, my wife.” He draped an arm over my shoulders.
Recognition came to Marsha’s eyes but not the kind I’d hoped for. “Oh, Mrs. Blordril. I’m sorry, I heard you were sick.”
“Uh, I was,” I fumbled out and then offered a smile. “But as you can see, I’m all better now.” I opened my arms as if to say ‘tada.’
Marsha nodded politely and then turned his gaze back to Patrick. “So, what did you want to see me about?”
Gesturing inside of the room, Patrick said, “Maybe we should go inside to discuss this. I don’t want to disrupt your neighbors.”
“Of course, of course.” Marsha nodded enthusiastically, moving out of the doorway for us to enter. “Just let me put a shirt on.”
While he went and did that, Patrick and I stepped into the room. Tris’s room wasn’t anything like I expected. Okay, so I hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about what the older vampire woman’s bedroom looked like, but if I had to imagine, it wouldn’t have been the pink monstrosity before me.
The walls were a muted pink that was offset by the darker shade lining the ceiling and floor. There was a fur rug that could only be described as screaming pink as well as a matching duvet set on the bed. The number of frills decorating the room made me want to gouge my eyes out.
“Tris likes pink, huh?” I couldn’t help but say, earning me a warning look from Patrick and a grin from Marsha.
“Oh, yeah. Isn’t it great?” Marsha said, buttoning up his shirt over his massive muscles.
I nodded slightly, forcing a smile. “It sure is something.”
Either they had erased all sense from his head, or Marsha really was that dense. I was hoping for the prior because I couldn’t see him not catching the sarcasm in my voice. Plus, it was just downright evil to make someone like the same color as you to this extent. It just had to be stopped.
Patrick dropped his arm from my shoulders and approached Marsha. “Marsha, how much has your mistress told you about how you came to live here?”
Marsha frowned for a moment and then grinned broadly. “My mistress told me she found me wande
ring the streets with no memory or clothes. She found me so handsome she couldn’t allow me to suffer in such a manner. So, she brought me here and well,” - he beamed like a proud father - “here I am!”
Man, Tris really laid it on thick. She couldn’t have told him he’d been in an accident, and that’s why he didn’t remember anything. At least, keep it to the original story, but no, she had to remake him altogether. I was happy I hadn’t told his father what had happened to him. He’d have been devastated to see his son like this. I was feeling a bit traumatized myself.
Patrick didn’t seem as bothered as I was by Marsha’s explanation and just asked, “How would you like to get some of your memories back? It wouldn’t take away the memories you have now, just let you remember what happened to you. Why you ended up where you were.”
Brows furrowed, Marsha didn’t answer at first. “I’m not sure. If my mistress wanted me to have them back, I’d imagine she’d give them to me. She’s quite powerful, you know.” He said it so matter of factly that I didn’t think Patrick had the heart to correct him. I knew I wouldn’t have.
“I know,” Patrick agreed and patted him on the shoulder. “But I have a certain talent for these things and think your mistress would be delighted to know about your life before here. Don’t you agree?”
That silly grin was back again, and the urge to knock some sense into Marsha was strong. Down Clarabelle, down. Let Patrick do his work.
“That sounds like a great idea.” Marsha basically bounced on his heels like a puppy waiting to be petted. “She’s always telling me the most fascinating stories, and it would be nice to have something to tell her in return. If you think you can do it, I’d be delighted to have you try.”
I grabbed hold of Patrick, dragged him down to my level, and whispered quickly, “Please, please do it quickly before I hit him on principle.”
Patrick patted my hand and then withdrew from my grasp, a grim expression on his face. Moving over to Marsha, he said, “Why don’t you have a seat? It might make this easier.”