His left eyebrow rose as he replied, “Come now, Miss Perkins, the reasons why are irrelevant, are they not?”
I flinched at his words. It wasn’t the response I was hoping for and I straightened my shoulders defensively and said, “No. Not to me.”
“Of course, please do forgive me,” he murmured with a bow, “I did not intend to be so flippant and since I have promised you answers, I will honor this last question of yours.”
He lowered his head and ran his hand through his hair. It was the first time David seemed truly rattled and it took him a few moments to speak. “The truth is, Miss Perkins, I had intervened because I–, from the first moment I saw you, I was captivated by your beauty. Once we spoke, I was quite impressed by your selfless concern for and loyalty to your undeserving friend and honestly, completely enamored with you by the time Develyn had made his appearance. So you see, Miss Perkins, I intervened because I simply could not allow you to be Turned,” he ended in a whisper.
My heart swelled and I blushed hotly at his words.
“However,” he hurried on, his voice hardening, “please do not be encouraged by this admission of mine for nothing will come of it. We are not fictional characters in one of your fanciful vampire novels or films. I am real. I am an Unnatural Mortal and you are a Natural. There would be no happy ending for us,” he said, taking a hesitant step toward me.
“You must understand, I have been cursed and there is no cure. No magical potion to concoct and drink it away. No ancient ritual to perform to change it. There is only one way out of this existence of mine and it is as I have already explained it.”
He took another step and towered over me, his dark eyes scanning my face. “Believe me when I tell you we, at best, would have two decades together before the reality of my immortality and your mortality would begin to taunt us . . . I could not Turn you, even if you wanted me too. The very nature of the curse would not allow it. And since you made it very clear that you could not end the life of someone you loved, means we would have to decide whether or not to separate. If we decided to remain together, you would eventually–,” he stopped short and took a step back as if to distance himself from the painful thought. “I would outlive you and be forced to live without you for centuries! And that,” he said, his lips pressing into a grim line, “is something I cannot, I will not endure. Now, please go,” he cried, pointing to the gate. “Forget me! Forget all that you have learned here tonight as best as you can and for God’s sake, Miss Perkins, do not return to this house for I am not the noble being you believe I am!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Our Reunion
Needless to say, David didn’t need to order me to leave a second time. I left, actually, I ran from him and the sound of the gate slamming behind me seemingly punctuated his wishes.
I was upset and shaking so hard by the time I reached my car that I barely managed to get the key into the ignition.
As I sat there allowing the engine to warm up, I numbly reviewed what had just occurred, from David’s incredible confession to his outright rejection, and I was heartbroken.
Now, I know it’s ridiculous to mourn the loss of a relationship that never was, but I was crushed.
I drove in a daze and when I got home, I crawled into bed. It took awhile for sleep to come, but when it did, the movie version of the story David had told me began to play.
I saw every character he had mentioned and every frightening scene he had described in full color and surround sound, as if I had been standing beside him as those things were happening to him.
I didn’t sleep well that night and I had to drag myself out of bed the next morning and force myself to go to work. I barely made it through the day and the moment I got home, I crawled back into bed and prayed for sleep just so I could see David’s face again.
In the days that followed, I found myself thinking of him every waking moment and dreaming of him every night. The surreal events of our first meeting and the subsequent night kept replaying over and over again in my mind. And although I chose to remember our parting in the parlor as our final farewell and not the ugly scene at the gates, the truth always revealed itself in my dreams. And I would awake each time to the sound of the gate slamming behind me.
By the end of the week, I realized I couldn’t continue as I was. I was distracted at work and people were beginning to talk. I could tell my parents had grown suspicious of my withdrawn behavior and my mother was planning a sit down session with me soon.
There was simply no use in denying the truth any longer. I was in love with David Blackwell. And it didn’t matter that he had ordered me out of his life. I wanted in. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to know more about Camille and his life before he was Turned. To know more about what he had done and seen over the past one hundred years. To know his thoughts and opinions on everything from religion and politics to music, art, movies and books. I wanted to know what made him happy. What made him smile and what his laughter sounded like? But most of all, I wanted to be with him. And even though I knew what would have to happen first, I wanted to make love to him. To run my fingers through his thick, dark hair. Kiss his sculpted lips. Hold him in my arms and love him until he no longer felt loneliness or pain. Or felt like the monster he thought himself to be.
So, the moment I got home from work Friday afternoon, I showered and readied myself for a special night with David. But since the only sexy lingerie I had was years old and originally bought for Jeremy, I decided to go without.
I slipped a simple curve-hugging, knee-length, scoop necked, long sleeved black dress over my body, grabbed my coat, scarf and gloves and was out the door.
But because it was November in the Upper Midwest, I did opt for a pair of thermal socks and my brown Ugg boots.
I drove as fast as I dared and as I reached the outskirts of Chicago it began to snow. It was a fluttering of large flakes at first, but as I neared the house, it began to come down steadily.
Parking the car, I ran to the gates and peered anxiously down the drive. Somehow I felt David already knew I was there and he was coming for me. And I was right. He seemed to materialize from the bright veil of falling snow, gliding rapidly toward me and stopping just a few feet from the gates.
He was dressed similar as the night we talked, only this time he wore a long robe of crushed black velvet and his handsome face was as pale as the snow that had accumulated along his shoulders and salted his dark hair.
He bowed to me and when he spoke, his deep cultured voice made my stomach flutter. “I know every thought you have had and have experienced every emotion you have felt since you left, so I will not insult you by demanding to know why you are here. Why you have come back here tonight. I will, however, ask once again Emily, my dearest, are you certain of your decision?”
My heart was beating wildly and I anxiously grabbed the bars of gate with my gloved hands. “Yes! Yes, I’m sure! I’m sure I love you, David! And I want to be with you! If all we are to have is two decades together, then so be it. I’ll take ‘em. I want them! Starting tonight. Right now.”
David shook his head gently and said, “But how will you feel in twenty years time when we are faced with–”
“I don’t know! And I don’t care! God help me, I don’t!” I cried with a frantic shake of my head. “We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”
In a startling flash, he was standing right before me, his hands tightly gripping the bars just above mine. His eyes were filled with longing and his deep voice wavered ever so slightly when he spoke. “If I open this gate, Emily, my love, there will be no turning back,” he warned.
“I know.”
“And for us to be together, I would have to–”
“I know.”
“Before we even dared to touch each other, I–”
“I know,” I interrupted with a bashful smile.
Tearing off my left glove and shoving my sleeve back, I offered him my arm and said, “I know and
I’m ready.”
His grip tightened on the bars. His lips pressed into a grim line and the muscle in his jaw twitched. His eyes darted to my exposed wrist and when they returned to mine, they were clearly tortured with indecision. “Emily,” he whispered raggedly as he shook his head.
“David, please,” I said, raising it to his lips, “I am fully aware of what I’m doing.”
We stared silently at each other and after a few moments, David let go of the bars. With a sigh of surrender, he said at last, “Very well, my dear.”
From his robe pocket, he withdrew the same stryker Develyn had used on me, and with eyes holding mine, he slipped it over his thumb and reached out and took my hand in his.
On a subconscious level, I expected him to be cold because we were standing out in a snow shower at night, so when he grasped my hand, I really wasn’t surprised that his fingers felt freezing cold.
When he hesitated again, I knew it was his way of giving me one last chance to change my mind, but when I nodded for him to proceed, he pressed the point into my vein.
We grimaced at the same time. Me from the pain and David, I know, from the guilt of causing it. But once the blood flowed from the puncture wound, he began to transform. His pupils dilated until his eyes looked black and his jaw clenched.
After a tense moment, he lowered his head and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like my mother’s rose garden on a warm and sunny afternoon,” he rasped thickly and when the cold tip of his tongue licked the red rivulet from my wrist, I felt a surprising jolt of shock and pleasure. And unlike the time before, I watched as he drank from me and I was fascinated as I felt his fingers, lips and mouth begin to warm.
As he continued, pulling the blood harder and faster through my veins, my head began to swim and my knees weaken. I tightened my grip on the bar to keep from buckling and just when I thought I was going to faint, he stopped. And when I was able to focus my eyes again, I was astonished at what I saw. David’s brown eyes sparkled warmly. His handsome face was not only flesh-colored, but flushed in the cheeks and his lips were red and swollen. The snow on his shoulders and in his hair had melted away and steam rose from him. He was breathing as hard as I was, and his breaths were coming out in silver puffs of mist . . . just . . . like . . . mine.
With our gazes locked, he unlocked the gate. And when he opened it, I rushed into his arms and we kissed.
I’ll admit, at first I could taste my blood in his mouth and it was unsettling, but as our kiss deepened and intensified, I didn’t even notice it.
When it ended, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me, faster than I thought humanly possibly, to the house and up to his bedroom where we began our one incredible night together.
A night the likes of which I had never experienced before and I’m sure I never will again. A night so amazing that I will not share the details because they are far too personal, too intimate to reveal even here in this journal.
I will say this one thing, thanks to modern technology, I was able to capture a particularly special moment of the night on my cell phone. It was just a few seconds of David’s deep rumble of laughter and a flash of his smile, but I will cherish it always.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My Nightmare
When I awoke, I was sore all over in a way that made me smile and I rolled over to snuggle with David, but found the bed empty. I called out for him and when he didn’t reply, I thought it odd and decided to go and look for him.
Putting his robe on, I combed my fingers through my mussed hair and wiped the sleep from my eyes so that I would look somewhat presentable before I saw him again.
I went to the door and peeked out. Making sure the coast was clear, I hurried down the hall to the bathroom and knocked, but when there was no answer there, I headed downstairs.
As I neared the bottom of the staircase, I felt a steady cold draft and I shivered. When I reached the bottom, I called out for David, and then for Robert, but no one answered.
With building apprehension, I headed across the foyer and when I stepped into the parlor, I froze in shock at what I saw.
It was in shambles. All the lamps had been smashed on the floor and the chairs knocked over. There was a large, jagged hole in the center of the bank of windows, as if something had been thrown through them, and the curtains fluttered in the cold breeze. One of the sofas had been shoved violently across the room and was actually embedded into the outer wall, while the other had been turned to face the fireplace and I could see the top of someone’s dark head sitting there.
With my heart pounding in my throat, I timidly called out, “David?”
“No, Emily, my dear. Wrong brother,” I heard Develyn reply.
I swallowed noisily. “Where’s David? And Robert? Where are they?” I demanded, trying hard to suppress the hysteria that was building inside me.
“Robbie will be back shortly.”
With fear and suspicion propelling me, I rushed forward, mindless of the broken glass on the floor. As I neared him, I saw that all the tables from the room had been broken apart and were thrown in a pile near the fireplace. Develyn was using the pieces as fuel for the fire and he had it blazing wildly.
When I stepped around the sofa, I saw him sitt-ing there, slouched down with a bottle of whiskey cradled at his crotch. His black T-shirt was rumpled and there were round dark stains on his faded jeans. His long hair was loose and tangled. His ashen face was drawn and haggard, with hollowed cheeks and dark circles under his eyes.
My hackles rose and my stomach clenched. I knew something was dread-fully wrong and whatever it was, I knew Develyn was the cause of it. Clenching the collar of the robe closed, I demanded to know, “What did you do, Develyn?”
Raising the bottle of whiskey to his purple lips, he took a long drink and then threw it violently into the fireplace. I flinched and jumped back when it shattered and the already raging orange flames, flared dangerously.
Pinning me with a cold hard stare, he shook his head and said, “Not just me, Emily, my dear. It’s what we did.”
Fear constricted my lungs and I was barely able to choke out, “We?”
“Yes, we. Remember,” he said in such a way that it was not a question, but rather a command.
. . . David had smiled at me in the shower and said, “Hurry, my love. The sun is rising and I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”
After he left, I finished and hurriedly dried off and combed out my hair as quickly as I could, but by the time I returned to his room, he was already asleep. And as I reached out to caress his cheek, I heard a voice say, “Don’t.”
Gasping, I whirled around and saw Develyn standing behind me in the doorway. Our eyes met and before I could scream or call out for David, he was in front of me, his hands grasping my arms painfully. He pulled me into an enthrallment and the next thing I knew he had produced the cross-handled dagger, the one I had seen in my nightmares, and pricked the same spot David had on my wrist, with its tip.
I whimpered in pain and terror and tried to pull away, but he easily lifted my hand to his face and inhaled deeply.
A lazy smile came to his mouth. “Ah, like sunshine and roses. You know, for a woman of your age and in these modern times, you’re surprisingly pure. Your blood is surprisingly pure. Just a hint of this evening’s wine, a product of a celebratory toast or two, I would assume, but no narcotics, antibiotics, or birth control pills.” He inhaled again. “Not even a trace of nicotine or caffeine. You’re an unusual woman, Emily, but then, I knew you would be,” he muttered softly.
Sticking out his tongue, he lasciviously licked the blood from my wrist and said, “And now you are mine.”
I couldn’t move or speak, but on the inside, I was screaming, No! You can’t do this! I’m David’s. He Marked me. I belong to him!
Develyn’s face went hard and he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close. With his other hand, he ran the bloody tip of the blade down my chest to rest it between my breasts. He bent his he
ad and whispered at my ear, “You do love him, don’t you? Why of course you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have lain with him tonight. A woman like you would have to love a man before she let him take her to his bed. Isn’t that right, Emily,” he taunted cruelly. “Of course it is,” he said with a derisive snort. “I’ll wager you couldn’t love him any more than you do at this very moment. Especially after such a night of fierce passion. Right? Say it. Say you couldn’t love David any more than you do right now. Say it!” he roared.
“Yes!” I managed in a strangled cry. “I love him! I love David more than I ever thought it possible to love a person!”
“I knew it. I knew you would be the one,” he whispered bitterly as he forced my hand around the dagger and plunged it into David’s heart.
**************
From this point on, my account of events that followed are only bits and pieces of what I can remember of the most traumatic experience of my life . . .
I must have blacked out after being forced to remember David’s murder, because the next thing I can recall is being crushed against Develyn’s ice cold chest and crying and screaming “no” over and over again at the top of my lungs. Screaming so loud, it felt as if the muscles in my throat were going to tear through the skin.
After that, I remember sitting numbly on the sofa and Develyn pacing back and forth in front of me, talking and gesturing animatedly. At first I couldn’t hear him over the muffled ringing in my head, but once it stopped, I flew at him, flailing wildly and pummeling his face and chest, all the while screaming how much I hated him.
Shannon Bailey - [Blackwell 01] Page 9