by Leia Shaw
She wiped the tear away with the back of her hand then raised her chin in defiance. “You know what? I don’t feel like telling you right now. And I don’t think you deserve to know, especially when you are no different than the ones who hurt me.”
Enough! Marcelo was many things, but he was no rapist. He grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against a tree. “I am not a rapist if that’s what you’re implying!”
“Then prove it. Release me. Give me some space.”
Letting her go was harder than fighting the three werewolves and six fae archers. He watched her walk into the trees, allowing her several yards of space while following silently alongside her. She trudged across the rocky ground, her head held down. Each soft sob felt like a stab to the heart. She was in pain and it was his fault. This vulnerable little fae was given to him to protect, to savor, to please, and he’d betrayed her trust. He hurt her just like everyone else. How I wish to hold her! How I wish to convince her of my love!
Love? He thought on it for a moment. Yes, love. He’d only ever loved one other. His marriage had been so long ago, and he scarcely remembered human emotions. He’d been cold and hard before Aila stepped into his life. She opened his heart, made him vulnerable. Twisted his insides until he was willing to live in agony just to be near her. But that was what love did. It made sane men mad.
He’d heard it said that love was a soft place one could fall when life became too harsh to endure alone. He needed that soft place, because a woman like Aila could bring a man like him to his knees.
Aila slowed to a stop next to a wide oak tree then slumped down against it, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her head on top. Instinct screamed to run to her, but common sense told him to wait. He gave her fifteen minutes then approached. Her ears twitched, indicating she heard him, yet she didn’t lift her head.
“Aila, we must press on.”
“No,” was the muffled answer.
“Others will come.”
She inhaled a deep breath. “Fine. But I’m not walking with you.”
Not an option. He sat on the ground in front of her. “Then we settle this now.”
She looked up at him. Her eyes were puffy and red, her nose bright pink, her cheeks wet with tears. This moment would be etched in his memory forever. A warning never to cause her this pain again.
“What can I do to make atonement?”
“I don’t know. How ‘bout I bite your neck till you bleed.”
In answer he tilted his head giving her access to his neck. When she grimaced he said, “What then? Do you want to hit me? Punch me? I’ll give you as many shots as you want.”
“Not everyone resorts to violence so easily, vampire.”
He scooted closer and tried to touch her hand. She pulled away. With a sigh he said, “I’m sorry, Aila. It will not happen again. Even if I have to starve, I will not take from you without your permission. I vow it.”
She didn’t acknowledge his apology. “I’m so tired of being pushed around. And…and taken advantage of. Oh, don’t worry about Erin, she’s so nice you can do anything you want to her! Take my bedroom, steal my homework, toss me away like garbage, give me to someone else to deal with. Nobody ever asks me what I want. They just walk all over me. And why? Because I’m nice! I swear it’s a curse. I don’t want to be nice anymore.” She hiccupped and brushed the tears from her eyes. “But I can’t help it.”
Marcelo’s heart broke for her. “Yes, you are a sweet, gentle soul. But querida, never mistake that for being weak.” More firmly he told her, “You are not weak.”
Her voice changed from anger to sorrow. “I’m no stranger to betrayal, Marcelo. I just hoped…” She shook her head and looked away.
“Hoped what?”
Fresh tears flowed from her eyes. “I just hoped it would be different with you.” She sounded so small, so vulnerable.
Marcelo’s face crumpled in pain. How he wished he could go back in time, just thirty minutes or so. “You have to understand, querida, it is different with me. I’m not going to make excuses for how I behaved, only assure you it will not happen again. I hate seeing you hurting like this. Please believe me.” He put out a hand, pleading, “Let me hold you, mi amor. Let me comfort you.”
She was shaking her head before he finished his plea. “No. I’m done with this. I’m done with vampires, and the fae, and magic, and violence. I don’t belong in this world. I just want to go home.”
She was home. Home was with him, by his side. Would she ever accept that? Marcelo would have given her the world if it would have made her happy. But letting her go was the one thing he could not do.
“I’m in over my head, Marcelo. You know it. Those werewolves were the scariest fucking things I’ve ever seen. I’m no hero. I’m no fae warrior. Did you happen to notice I was cowering behind you?”
“Yes, but then you picked up a bow and arrow, which you’d never even touched before, and you shot all three of them. When it came down to it, you were there, Aila. And that’s a hell of a lot more than most people.”
She tossed him a disbelieving look.
“You could have killed me too, while I was feeding from you. But you didn’t, which –”
“Which makes me a victim. Weak. Just like you said.” He started to shake his head but she was no longer looking at him. “My God, I haven’t felt so helpless since…”
She trailed off, keeping her shame hidden, allowing it to break her spirit. But not anymore. Now he would demand the truth, even if he had to push her through ugly memories to get there.
“Since when?” he asked. “Don’t shut down on me, love. I need to know.”
Unable to stand the distance any longer, he edged closer so their knees were touching. He took her hand in his, squeezing it tighter when she tried to pull away. Her gaze was averted, her body closed off. That wouldn’t do.
He put a gentle finger under her chin forcing her head up to meet his gaze. “Were you raped?” he asked.
Her expression gave her away. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilled onto her soaked cheeks, her bottom lip trembled.
More to himself he said, “And that’s why you didn’t want me to…and that’s why you have panic attacks.” It all made sense now. He studied her pained expression. “Are you afraid of being hurt again?”
She nodded.
He jumped up from the ground. “Get up,” he ordered.
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“Stand up. I want to show you something.” She didn’t move. “Please.”
She looked confused but she stood.
“I’m going to rape you. Stop me.” Then he attacked her, moving as fast as a strong human male was capable. She would be angry with him but this was an important lesson she needed to learn.
At first she was so stunned she barely managed to evade him. When her movements became sharper, angrier, her confidence seemed to grow. She even fought back, punching, kicking, finally accessing the bloodthirsty warrior inside. Maybe acting out her anger was exactly what she needed. Maybe imagining kicking a rapist’s ass was more therapeutic than years of talking to a stranger on a couch. A few minutes later, he stopped.
***
“What are you doing?” Aila was horrified. “Is this supposed make me trust you?”
All he said was, “Faster.”
Then he went at her again, moving at a preternatural speed, making her lose her breath trying to keep up. Her muscles burned in protest but she couldn’t deny the exhilaration each time she landed a blow.
He came to a halt and she exhaled in relief.
“Watch me carefully,” he said. “Look for signs of my next move.”
“I’m tired, Marcel –”
She was cut off when he grabbed for her. She skirted away and landed a kick to his gut.
“Good,” he said with a little cough. Then he picked up the pace.
“Watch carefully,” he said between strikes. “Look for my signals.”
What the hel
l is he talking about? And how can he treat me like this after what he did? Where’s the apologetic flowers and chocol –
A large hand wrapped around her throat. He gave her a shake. “Focus!”
“Fuck you!”
He grinned. She growled then raised her arms overhead and slammed them down over his arm as she twisted her body away, effectively releasing her from his hold.
As they sparred again, she tried to do what he said. She looked for signals to anticipate his next move, but she just couldn’t see any.
“My feet,” he hinted.
He slowed down enough for her to follow. Just before she struck, he shifted his feet in the direction he planned to move.
“Do you see it?” he asked. “Most people give themselves away. If you find their signal, you can predict their actions.”
Maintaining a slower speed, they practiced until she matched him strike for strike. Then he stopped signaling with his feet and started with his eyes. She sparred ten times better once she noticed he was giving himself away.
At the same time, he subtly changed his style to cover a range of fighting methods. He slowed down when he introduced a new style, allowed her to adjust, and then sped up so she could practice. He struck high and strong emulating a werewolf’s movement. Then he used speed as an advantage like a vampire. By the end of their impromptu session, they were both leaning on their knees panting. Muscles she didn’t know she had felt like they were on fire.
Marcelo straightened and looked into her eyes. “You see, querida? No human male stands a chance against you. Stick with me and no vampire will either.”
With a sobering glare, she said, “Except you.”
The comment hurt, she could tell by the sudden drop of his gaze. She felt an unexpected twinge of guilt but pushed it away. He deserved it. He had betrayed her.
When she looked up at him again, he had something dangling from his fingers, outstretched towards her. Her necklace.
“A little late for that,” she said, taking it from his hand.
When she fumbled with the clasp he spun her around and did it for her. “For peace of mind,” he said. He turned her back around, his eyes still pools of regret. “I have to take care of the bodies. Will you wait here for me?” He phrased it as a question though she didn’t really have a choice.
She nodded.
He stared at her for a long moment then exhaled. “Keep that bow handy.”
“I know.”
He nodded once then disappeared.
Several minutes later a pillar of smoke rose from below the cliffs.
He reappeared at her side, giving her a little start. “Will you walk with me now?” he asked. Again she didn’t really have a choice.
She nodded and picked up her backpack and new weapon. As she followed him into the forest, she muttered, “I still haven’t forgiven you.”
He stiffened then his shoulders slumped and she knew he’d heard.
***
They walked for miles in silence, stopping only to clean off when they passed a river. Aila didn’t complain though she must have been exhausted. It felt wrong to push her, but they needed to get far away from the location they’d last been seen.
Marcelo had attempted physical contact whenever possible; taking her hand to help her up a steep section of loose rock, carrying her across the raging river. She had allowed it but felt stiff in his arms. How he craved her touch, yearned for it. He vowed to keep working for her forgiveness. Forever if he had to.
“Where did you get the bow and quiver?” Marcelo asked, breaking the silence just an hour or so before dawn.
“Umm…I found it. At the top of the cliffs.”
“That’s strange.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He waited for her to explain. She didn’t. “That’s it? You didn’t sense anyone nearby?” He looked her in the eye but she averted her gaze. She was hiding something.
“There was a note. It said it was a gift. It had the initials KW.”
This disturbed him. Who was KW and how had he been near Aila with him unaware? It had to have been a fae. They were known for their archery and they had the magic to sneak up on a vampire undetected. But why had a fae left a gift for Aila while simultaneously trying to kill her?
“Do you know who KW is?” he asked.
“No,” she answered too quickly.
Liar, liar. Didn’t she know she couldn’t lie to a vampire? He could hear her heart rate accelerate. He could smell the deception. If he wasn’t on such rocky ground with her he would have yelled at her for even attempting to lie to her mate. But he let it go, for now.
“So archery is a skill of the fae?” she asked.
“Yes.” Both courts, but especially the Seelie. They were legendary archers, bow and arrow their primary weapon. It made sense that Aila would have a natural ability with it. Because she had both dark fae and light fae in her blood, she had an interesting advantage. Marcelo would continue to push her training, starting with weapons as soon as they reached the Underworld. She needed to know just how strong she really was. And he’d feel better once she was prepared for the coming unrest.
After another long silence, she asked, “Marcelo, how do you know where the door to the Underworld is?” He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
“I just feel it. Like static electricity.” Since he’d spent so much time in the Underworld passing through doorways all over the world, he knew instinctively where to find them. The Underworld called to him.
He hoped they could slip in without drawing the guardian’s attention. Gethin, the red dragon of Wales, had been charged by the gods to guard the doorway. Once someone was granted access they could come and go as they pleased. But gaining access was tricky. Like most dragons, Gethin was obsessed with power. And he had a lot of it. Dragons were almost as old as the earth – and most of them more than a little mad. Able to take human or dragon form, they liked meddling in human affairs for sport. Some had started using the earth as a chessboard, playing games of strategy against one another.
Gethin used his position as guardian to his own advantage, collecting debts and favors from entrants for future use in these petty and catastrophic games. Getting Aila through the door could prove difficult. And dragons, other than the gods, were the most dangerous race of supernaturals.
“So…there are no specific directions?”
She was up to something. He could see the scheming in those amber eyes.
“No,” he answered. Well, nothing he could describe. Even if he could, there was no way in hell he would tell her. Yes, he was a hypocrite. He expected her never to lie to him, yet when it came to safety, he’d do anything to protect her. And right now, he wanted her by his side until they reached the safety of the Underworld. Then she could express her wrath by ignoring him for a time. A short time.
“But even if there were, you do not want to enter without me,” he told her, searching her face for clues to her nefarious plot. “Trust me on that one.” She chewed a nail, a habit, he’d noticed, when she was deep in thought. “Why would you need directions to the door, querida?”
She attempted a casual shrug that did nothing to prove her innocence. He was secretly pleased she was such a bad liar. “I just thought it would be good for me to know where we’re going. Just in case something happens to you.”
“Nothing will happen to me. We will enter the Underworld together.”
“You can’t guarantee that. You might be a good fighter but you’re not invincible.”
“Ah, but when it comes to your safety, querida, I am invincible. I would happily give my life to save you from danger.” He smiled and kept his tone light, though he meant every word. “And then I would come back as a ghost and kill the fuckers that dared mess with you.”
She arched a brow. “Aren’t you already dead?”
“Do I look dead?”
Her gaze raked over his body as her tongue darted out and licked her lips. It took all his strength not to t
ake her up against the nearest tree.
“No, you don’t look dead. Is that another myth?”
“Well, you have to die with vampire blood in your body to become a vampire. But think of it more as a rebirth. My heart beats, I breathe, I bleed, I feel pain.” He stepped closer, nudging her playfully with his shoulder. “And since meeting you, I feel joy. I smile, I laugh –”
“You growl,” she interrupted with a smirk.
He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I do growl. You have to forgive my domineering ways. When I served the Dark King I commanded large armies of violent werewolves. There was a lot of snarling and growling. I settled challenges with my fists and teeth, not flowery words.”
“Earlier you told me not to judge you by your words, but by your actions.” He didn’t like where this conversation was going. “You stole my blood. You broke your promise. What do those actions say about you?”
That you’re too good for me and I don’t deserve you. “That I’m not perfect. That I make mistakes. But I own up to them. I apologize and I make amends. And, querida, I do not make the same mistakes twice. On that you’ll just have to trust me.”
“I’ve been with Jimmy for six months, Marcelo.” Her voice was somber now, like she was getting ready to threaten him. “I still don’t trust him completely.”
Six months? He wanted to laugh. That was nothing compared to the centuries they would spend together. “Trust is a risk. It has nothing to do with the person being trusted, but the one doing the trusting. Six months, six years, six days, it doesn’t matter. If you are waiting for someone who will never cause you any pain, you’ll be waiting forever. Love hurts. If it doesn’t, you’re not doing it right. Only you can decide if it’s worth the pain.”
Her forehead creased and she nibbled on a thumb nail as she stared down at the rocky terrain. Never had he wished he could read someone’s mind so badly.
“What’s in the Underworld?” she asked.
Things I don’t want you anywhere near. “Werewolves, vampires, demons. Criminals of any supernatural race. Some find solace in the Underworld and stay voluntarily. Others are forced to remain.” He looked down at her small, feminine figure, so soft and sweet. Was he taking her away from one dangerous situation only to place her in another? “It is a perilous place, cosita. Your little bow won’t save you from the creatures that live there.”