Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Levette
After a trip to the bayou to dispose of the body in the swamps—a great way to cover up any of my wildness, I had found, since the bodies were quick to sink and get sucked under by the thick sludge beneath the water’s surface, and the alligators would chomp on the remains until there was little left to find—I made my way back into the thriving city.
The apartment was easier to clean up, considering I rolled him up in the rug he bled on, and any other traces would be washed away by the maid I paid handsomely.
I knew she had her concerns about me, or perhaps more of an inkling as to what I was, but she never said anything around me and gladly accepted my money, which was all I needed.
There was a charge in the air as I journeyed further toward the humdrum of the metropolis in full swing of its nightlife.
I first attributed it to the unease I felt after my kill; not guilt, but rather the loneliness of believing my beloved had returned to me only for the fantasy to be pulled away from me so cruelly.
But something was different about it, a scent in the air that made my body tingle.
Like a hound, I prowled the night, trailing the scent until I found its origins. My body alighted the closer I got and soon the air was filled with the smell, denial no longer possible.
Warren.
His fragrance coated every particle in the air, and I could not breathe without taking his scent in with me.
Was I delusional? Had I craved him so deeply, finally reaching my breaking point of madness that I was hallucinating his presence in New Orleans?
Madness or not, I would follow any version of him until the ends of the Earth if it allowed me to be in his arms again.
I thanked the sky for my immortal gifts, the heightened senses I normally cursed, as I chased the idea of him through the busy streets, determined to find him.
All care of politeness and reputability flew out the window as I brushed people aside, focused only on my task.
The streetlights blurred and the loud voices became nothing but idle chatter in the very back of my mind.
I was oblivious to where I was being led until I reached the church that had been so prevalent in Warren and I’s early story.
Throughout the years since Warren had departed Louisiana, I had often sat on the bench opposite Saint Mary’s—the exact spot I had sat with him so many times during our courtship—and called out to him, begging to hear his voice or see his face.
It hit a wall, each and every time, but I could not stop trying.
It pained me more and more each time I did not receive an answer.
The breath burst from my lungs in an anguished gasp as I caught sight of flaming hair. I did not trust my eyes as I inched closer, my chest heaving when he turned his head slightly, showing his face to me. I moved quickly to get out of his eyeline, but I could not tear my eyes off him.
In our decade apart, immortality had been extremely kind to Warren.
His features had not changed—his handsome face and chiseled bone structure were as perfect as ever—but even from a distance, I could see how his eyes had hardened some.
I could not help but smile to myself, a little pridefully, I could admit, at seeing him in a silky shirt reminiscent of the one I had bought for him long ago.
Parts of me had stuck with him, it seemed.
I longed to go over to him, but I could not get my feet to move.
Different scenarios played out in my mind, and I was overwhelmed by the thought of how to greet him after so long.
Should I stand before him and say a simple hello?
Or perhaps it would be best to drop to my knees and beg for the forgiveness I did not deserve?
Maybe I should pull him into me and claim his mouth in a kiss to remind him of why he fell in love with me.
No option seemed to click in my mind, and I cursed myself for my inability to think straight around him.
I turned into a blundering fool, and it was pitiful.
With no plan in place, I took a determined step forward, only to see Warren get up and head over to the church.
I watched as he opened the doors, but stood nervously at the threshold.
I could only imagine the magnitude of fear and confusion he was facing; it was one I had faced myself.
Warren was always filled with dread and trepidation over who he was and what would become of him after death.
While I had taken away his mortality, it had not erased the anxiety within him over where he would end up if he were to die.
Warren believed himself to be damned to Hell, but I did not think anyone, especially a loving God such as his, would be able to condemn a pure soul such as Warren’s.
I had tainted him, but nothing could take away from the love and lightness he had pouring from him.
I smiled into the darkness when he took a step inside. His bravery had returned, and oh, how beautiful it was to witness.
My heart longed for him, and I wanted to follow him inside but I would not do that to him again. It had taken him so long to come back to that place that I would not be the reason he left it again. If Warren were to come back to me in any way, it would be entirely his choice.
An idea sparked in my mind with that thought and I made my way back to his apartment.
Now that I knew he had returned, I could understand the magnitude of Warren’s presence in New Orleans and how much it was already impacting us both.
For myself, I could feel the strings of my control tethering one by one, the urge to force my way into his life once again almost irrepressible.
And for my love, I could feel his walls crumbling the longer he stayed.
With each passing moment, our connection strengthened and the warmth he exuded swept through me, settling in my bones where it belonged.
It was a test and a plea, but I called to him through the bond, this time determined that if I pushed hard enough, the bricks would fall and allow me in.
Warren, I feel you here. Come and find me.
I sat on the edge of the bed where we had once lain together and looked around the room.
I had kept it exactly the same, only my clothes and books scattered around the small place to alert anyone of my existence within the walls.
Redecorating or changing anything felt like a disservice to Warren and to why I chose to stay there; I wanted to feel him at every turn.
To make alterations would take part of him away from me.
With my own defenses lowered, I felt the moment Warren acknowledged my pull.
Even if he was not aware that it was I orchestrating it, he was still following the call.
Flashes of him racing through the city, closer and closer to me, flashed through my mind, and I smirked to myself.
He could not resist me in the same way that I could not avoid him or ignore his return.
Part of me felt remorse as I saw him fighting against the bond, desperate to keep some semblance of distance between us.
Perhaps it was even between himself and his vampiric nature as a whole.
It saddened me to realize that he had spent his fledgling years away from me and I had no idea how he had coped.
Maggie, for all her faults, had done me a kindness by sending me small updates over the years, but she always withheld any details.
It was normally a letter to tell me he was alive, but sometimes she would send me an image in my head of whatever place they had ventured to, Warren always just out of sight.
Sometimes it felt like a taunt, a way to punish me; other times, it was a gift that I would never be able to repay…
Though I absolutely loathed the idea of being indebted to Magdalena Vulpe.
Each update ended with a strict warning I did not dare to defy: do not try to find Warren, or else Maggie would turn me to dust. It was not so much that I was scared of dying, but rather that I did not want to face the ultimate death without having made amends with Warren.
And if there was one thing I knew about dear old Maggie, it was that she always followed through on her threats.
It felt as though my blood alighted within my undead body as Warren finally reached the apartment building. I sensed him pause outside, contemplating his decision. Willing my body to stay still, I sat in place and waited.
I would wait forever for Warren Hayes.
I heard the doorknob break and as it hit the ground, so too did Warren’s wall. Every piece of barrier and palisade turned to dust, and for the first time in a decade, it felt as though my soul was complete.
From where I sat, I heard his strangled sob, and I rushed to the doorway, seeing my love on his knees with darkened tears down his pale cheeks. I had been selfish in thinking that seeing me again, being close to me, would be enough to heal him…Instead, it created more pain for him to endure.
And even more selfishly of me, it would not deter me from continuing. If Warren was broken, I would be the remedy he needed.
His pain came from me, and so would his restoration.
Welcome home, mon amour.
Warren slowly raised his head and our eyes met, my throat constricting in the process. While I knew his eyes had changed, part of me had forgotten as time passed us by. Now, staring at the vibrant violet hues, I was reminded of how much vampirism had changed him.
He was stunning, a vision with his long hair falling over his shoulders and his eyes piercing me. To say I had missed seeing him was a gross understatement; there was not, and never would be, a better sight to me than Warren’s beautiful face.
“Levette…” he whispered, so softly that a human would not have heard.