by P. Anastasia
We did as we were told, our hands still clasped, and she continued.
“These are the hands that will passionately love and cherish you through your lifetime.
“These are the hands that will wipe the tears from your eyes. Tears of sorrow and tears of joy.
“These are the hands that will comfort you in illness and hold you when grief torments your mind.
“These are the hands that will hold you and encourage you always to pursue your dreams.
“Together, everything you wish for can be found. Together, you will have peace and comfort.”
The warmth in her voice touched my soul, each word like an embrace, soothing the tension in my veins. She brought the cords down below our hands and proceeded to loosely bind us together. Then she cupped her warm fingers atop ours and smiled earnestly. I sensed her sincerity all the way down to my bones—it was a talent I’d acquired with my transformation: hyperawareness of a human’s true emotions.
“All things of the material world eventually return to Mother Earth,” Priestess Brenna continued, “unlike the bond your spirits share, which is destined to remain. May you be forever as one. Passion and fire. Eternal and unyielding. You are now as your hearts have always known you to be—Husband and Wife.” She stepped back and bowed her head to Matthaya, an earnest glimmer of joy sparkling in her hazel eyes. “You may kiss your bride.”
Matthaya turned toward me. A wave of contentment coursed through him, and his peace of mind placated me. I flexed my fingers around his as he took one step closer and then kissed me.
I put down my sketchbook and removed the braided silk wedding ties from a box near my desk. As I coiled them around my fingers, I closed my eyes and thought about the promises they represented. Becoming Matthaya’s in heart, soul, and body had not been the difficult part. Becoming his in mind had. My racing thoughts taunted me always, reminding me of those whose deaths I’d caused, and I could not find silence in my own head. I could not find peace or freedom from the burdens of my past.
Derek’s mother had come to my studio shortly after the incident, but she was left without real closure. Hiding such a deplorable secret from his family ate at me and I was crucified by my own regrets.
I wanted to tell Derek’s mother the truth, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell her how my actions had made him vulnerable, and how my reckless pursuit of Matthaya had brought death herself—the hungry Sire, Ve’tani—straight to Derek’s doorstep.
Kathera had been acting unusual, but changes were to be expected. I didn’t know how much of her personality would change after she had been taken, but I knew that a great deal of creative light had faded from her being. The lack of artistic energy sent her spiraling, once again, into a depressive state.
She was luckier than most vampires, as sunlight did not pose a hazard to her fair skin, but no dawn could distract her from the truth of what she had become. No sunrise would purify her from an eternal longing for blood.
I felt it continually—her mourning Derek’s death. We are haunted always by our last regret, and as she had seen his blood pooling across the grass at her feet, that would remain branded in her memory.
I’d felt a great deal of her sorrow fade after I’d rescued her from her dive off the skyscraper months prior, but meeting Derek’s mother had reopened the wound. Even now, I could sense Kathera in her studio, brooding over what never would have been—an ill-fated relationship with a mortal man—while threading our wedding ties between her fingers.
He had been kind to her, but she owed him nothing.
Derek had cared for her in her time of need, and she was not obligated to repay him. It was his decision to keep her, and to court her, and the truth of the matter was that she did not love him. Or, at the least, she had never intended to.
“Kathera?” I tapped on the door with the back of my hand and sensed her mind jolt with surprise. We’d grown very close, telepathically, but a handful of my actions slipped by unnoticed.
“Yes? Come in.” She hadn’t expected me to return so soon, but I had detected her growing hunger even before she had.
I pushed open the door. Candles burned in all four corners of her room, with several perched along the back of her desk. The satin ropes from our handfasting ceremony lay outstretched beside her, just as I had envisioned. White wax pooled precariously close to her sketchbook, ignored as she swept delicate, deliberate lines of ink across a page.
I stood behind her momentarily, watching as the drawing came to life—a wolf-like creature—something I had not seen from her before. Realistic animals were not her preferred subjects, but she was a master at conjuring incredible beasts of fantasy. Perhaps this would become one of them.
Strands of the wolf’s mane came into view as she swiped her pen, rhythmically, like a precision machine replicating a design it had done a thousand times. Only she hadn’t; this one was new. It didn’t have the signature darkness in its eyes, for which her clients revered her. This wolf was placid. Domesticated.
“I brought this for you.” I set a flute of liquid crimson on the table beside her arm. The glass clinked against the surface, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “You… should drink something.” She continued sketching in silence. “It’s been… several days since—”
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” She swerved around and looked me straight in the eye. “You think it’s awful, don’t you?” Before I could answer, she tore the page from its spiral binding and crumpled it in her hands.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” I said.
“No, I’m not.” She tossed the paper ball into the wastebasket and turned to me. “I felt it in you.” She shook her head. “You can’t hide anything from me anymore.” She pointed. “I felt you judging that work.”
“I wasn’t judging it.” I knelt on one knee in front of her. “That piece looked as good as any of your others.”
“What then?” Her eyes glittered with a fleeting blue spark of agitation. “What was it I sensed going through your mind as you looked over my shoulder? It wasn’t a compliment, was it?”
I reached up a hand to cup her cheek, gazing into the sadness drifting through an ocean of rich azure.
“Well?” she prodded.
The answer wouldn’t come quickly enough to my lips and she bolted up from her chair.
“You are depressed,” I said, standing.
“How is that possible? I thought vampires couldn’t fully experience human emotions.”
“That is true, in part, but the grievances of your previous life cannot be erased. Our emotions may lie dormant, but that doesn’t mean they’ve left us. You must learn to adapt.” I grasped her forearms gently. She looked off to the side and clenched her jaw.
“Your work is beautiful, Kathera,” I said. “And it always will be, as long as you learn to accept the limitations of what you have become. You can never return to what you once were.”
Kathera’s head turned and our eyes met again.
“This has happened before,” I continued. “It is an ongoing struggle we will face for as long as we remain upon this earth. You are incredibly talented, and this world is fortunate to have you in it. As I am fortunate to have you in mine.” I stretched an arm out to the table to grasp our wedding ropes. I brought one of her hands up to mine and entwined our fingers tightly. With my other hand, I coiled the threads around our wrists.
“These are the hands that will hold you and encourage you always to pursue your dreams,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. “Even when they appear far from reach. Even when they seem impossible to find.” Sapphire blue irises gazed back at me, the anxiety in them beginning to melt away.
There were days when nothing I could say or do could take away the painful memories piercing her soul, but every beast has a lullaby, and I knew exactly what hers was.
“Would you like to visit your mother tonight?”
She glanced at the shimmering ties around our hands and nodded slow
ly, a thankful, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.
A moonlit walk in the crisp, fresh air would be good for her, and the quiet company would bring her some peace.
Mothers have a way of doing that.
The tender breeze made Kathera’s vivid burgundy hair dance around her face. I clasped my hands together in my lap and sat across from her on another bench, watching as she took in the calm surroundings of the cemetery. I would do whatever it took to quiet her mind. I had all the time in the world.
She stood and dead yellow and red leaves crunched beneath her shoes as she walked over and sat beside me. She reached for one of my hands, prying them apart so that she could drag one over to her lap and cup it lovingly. Her thumb brushed across my signet ring, tracing over the large emerald stone.
“I want to know who you are, Matthaya.” She looked up at me. “Don’t you? Don’t you want to know what name your wife—I—might have assumed?”
Or what name Kathryn would have shared?
“You did not need to take my name to take my heart.” My fingers squeezed hers.
“I know, but isn’t there some part of you that wants to know who you were? Where you came from?”
“No.” It wasn’t a priority, but there had been times when it had crossed my mind.
“You’re lying,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
I couldn’t hide much from her anymore.
“Perhaps. Yes. But I don’t want to be haunted by my past—by the person I could have, or should have, been. It doesn’t matter anymore. Does it?”
We had already agreed to assume the name I’d been using this century—Jackman. It was an uncomplicated surname with uncomplicated origins.
“It matters to me,” she replied. “This is a beautiful ring and there are centuries of history buried within its facets, lurking behind these golden dragon engravings. But…” She released me. “I won’t pursue it if you don’t want me to. If you really don’t care about who you are, then—”
“I care. If it concerns you, it concerns me.”
A faint sensation tickled my shoulder and I twitched; fingers dragged toward my wrist until they brushed my palm and then grasped my hand. I flexed in response. My eyelids fluttered open, and it took me a moment to focus.
“Derek?”
A sweet smile curled his lips. “Good morning, beautiful.” He was sitting on the edge of my bed.
I released his hand and sat up groggily, squinting from the bright golden light peeking through the blinds.
“What is it?” I asked. We’d been living together for a little while, but he’d never woken me up quite like this before.
“I came to ask you what you wanted for breakfast.” He shrugged and let out a nervous chuckle. “And… I’ve got to confess, you’re really pretty when you’re sleeping.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I tugged my sheets up to my neck and lowered my face to hide my embarrassment.
“Derek,” I muttered. “Don’t get creepy, okay?”
“Sorry,” he replied with a hearty laugh. “I’m just teasing.”
He had a beautiful smile. It was bright, honest, and comforting. You could tell it was genuine by the way his eyes narrowed warmly. It was contagious, too.
He reached toward me and his warm hand cupped my cheek. Sunlight shimmered across his brown eyes.
“I love you, Kathera,” he said in a voice that was nearly a whisper. “You know that, don’t you?”
Yes…
All I did was nod slightly, my cheek brushing against his palm.
“And you know that I would do anything for you—anything at all?”
Again, I nodded.
He leaned forward and kissed me.
I couldn’t help but close my eyes as his warm hands held me steadfast. He felt so wonderful.
After our lips parted, he took a deep breath and sighed heavily.
He looked down.
Derek wasn’t one to bite his tongue when it came to his feelings, and although I often appreciated his bluntness, sometimes it got a little too intense for me.
“It’s hard, you know?” he started, scooting closer. “I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but I need to get this off my back.”
I pulled my pillow up and tucked it behind me so I could rest my weight against it. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“I love you,” he said, trying to fight back the sadness wavering on his face. “I’m not going to lie. There have been times when I wished you’d reconsider our boundaries. I know it’s important to you to wait until you’re married, and I am trying very hard to respect your decision. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy for me.” He reached out a hand to sweep his fingers ever so gently across the side of my neck. “I’d do anything for you, Kathera, and I’m not trying to ask for anything in return. It’s just—”
“It’s hard for me, too, sometimes,” I uttered beneath my breath, ashamed, but hoping my honesty might soothe some of his pain. There were moments when the throes of passion consumed me. My body wanted him as much as he had wanted me, but I was better than him at hiding that.
Only a little better.
He traced a line across my collarbone. “You have beautiful skin,” he said, fixated on the lace trim of my tank top. A moment later, his hand slipped off me, and his line of sight shifted to something across the room.
The silence was heavy and awkward.
I opened my mouth to reply.
Apologize, maybe?
I didn’t know what words would make things better, if any.
He stood and shrugged off his discomfort. “I came to ask you what you wanted for breakfast,” he said again, forcing a smile.
Too many times I had thought back on our interactions, wondering if I’d made the right choices, or if my archaic desire to save myself before marriage had been nothing but torture to the man who had saved me from a spiral of depression. God knows what I might have done to myself had Derek not been there when Matthaya had walked out of my life for what I thought would be forever.
What would have happened to me had Derek not taken me in? He provided shelter and companionship in return for nothing but, perhaps, the hope that I would let him into my heart one day.
Remnants of my mortal past haunted me, so I tried to sleep them away.
But it didn’t shut out the bad memories or dangerous thoughts. It didn’t block the pain or stop my heart from aching with regret.
It only made things worse.
Unlike Matthaya, who ceased to dream at all anymore, I continued to have vivid, lifelike dreams. My mind became as active at rest as it was while awake. Before, I had been plagued by nightmarish visions of death and drowning, but now, a new and very different dream, formed of twisted realities, taunted me as I slept…
“I want to wait,” I said, clasping onto my bare arms to brush away the chill and goose bumps. “I already told you this. I’m sorry I keep giving you the wrong idea. Maybe we should take some time off. Maybe—”
“I know that you’re afraid of commitment,” Derek replied, “and—especially—of making the wrong choice with the wrong guy.” He moved closer and forked his fingers through my hair. “I understand how important that is to you.”
I started trembling.
“In the beginning, I was fine with it,” he continued, “but we’ve been together for months, and there’s so much damn tension between us now. I’m not afraid to commit to you. I hope I’ve made that evident. But I don’t know how else to prove just how committed I am. If you want me to back off and give you space, then I will, but it’s going to put a hell of a strain on this relationship.”
“I know.” I fought back tears and tried to quiet my shuddering breaths. “I’m sorry for treating you this way. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”
“I love you more than I ever imagined it was possible to love someone, Kathera,” Derek said, reaching for my hand. “There’s
nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy. Right now, everything inside me longs for you. And that’s the problem. I need you so much, that it hurts to be around you anymore. You’ve come to me in the middle of the night and asked to stay with me, and I’ve obliged, pushing back expectations and…” he swallowed hard, “desires… out of respect for you. Because you’re not like other girls. You wouldn’t hurt me like… like she did.”
His last serious relationship had landed him in the emergency room with critical injuries. Not only had the woman cheated on him, she had also started a rumor that Derek had abused her. It was a disgusting way to try to sever ties and make excuses for her infidelity. Those rumors eventually led to a violent physical altercation with one of her other lovers, which left Derek scarred for life and unable to trust women the same way.
“I’ve been patient,” he continued, “but it’s becoming unbearable. You let me so close, and then you push me away. The signals are all mixed, and I don’t know what your boundaries are anymore.”
The subtle lamplight glistened off his eyes as he stared into mine.
I took a deep breath and wiped my cheeks with my palms.
The sorry truth was that I enjoyed being close to him; I liked it when he caressed me with hands that longed for me, and when he kissed me in a way that made me believe I was the only woman he’d ever wanted. I savored the swirl of emotions that coursed through me when he held me tightly.
That didn’t mean I was ready to sleep with him.
“I know. I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you. The truth is…” I sniffled and looked down at my hands as I tangled them in my lap. “I’m conflicted, too. I thought I wanted to save myself until marriage, but when I’m with you, I can’t think straight and…” I sighed.
“Trust me.” He put his hand out to stroke my cheek. “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have any regrets.”