Chapter 75
Why?
Half an hour later, plied with enough drugs to dull the pain but not remove it, I undressed and stepped into a steaming hot shower.
The water turned a vague shade of red and disappeared down the drain.
Not my blood, the dead man’s. The sight unraveled my last remaining threads of strength.
I put my head under the stream. The water reddened.
I ran my hands through the back of my hair, furiously dragging my fingers through the knotted, bloodied tangles.
More blood streamed down. I let out a whimper.
Grief came like mourners to a funeral service and overwhelmed me.
I leaned back against the wall, slid to the floor, tucked my head between my knees, and began to cry.
We may have won the battle but, in that moment, I was defeated.
The tears turned into shuddering sobs, I couldn’t stop them.
“Amelia.” Karson’s voice from outside the door snagged me back to my body. My throat was too choked to answer.
“Amelia, are you alright?” I could hear worry in his voice. The door began to open.
I didn’t want him to see me like this, curled on the shower floor. I didn’t want him to see how broken I was. I squeezed my eyes shut. My conscious mind grappled to regain enough composure to speak. It found a thread-bare remnant.
“Don’t,” I said hoarsely, “don’t come in.”
The door stopped opening. His voice sounded husky—choked. “Just tell me, are you alright?”
I rested my head back against the hard tiles. He saved me. He killed them all, without an ounce of empathy or mercy. My throat felt thick as I answered, “Yes, I’m okay.”
There was long pause and he said, “I did what I did, for you, and I’d do it again and again, if it means keeping you safe.
” There was another long moment of silence, all I could hear was water splashing down and my blood whooshing through my head, all I could feel was my heart twisting in my chest. “And whatever you are going through. You don’t have to go through it alone. ”
For a moment I forgot how to breathe. Karson who doesn’t love me, came to my rescue, wanted to be there for me.
I could fall into his arms. I wanted to fall into his arms. Have him hold me and tell me everything would be alright.
But to what end? He still wouldn’t love me and I’d only love him harder.
I’d only break apart all over again.
I didn’t answer, I couldn’t.
I felt his presence hovering outside the door, the pressure buzzing against my body. Then he was gone and I was left aching and hollowed.
I drew in a shuddering breath, hauled myself off the floor and shampooed my hair until I was sure there was not a drop of blood left. I switched off the taps and stepped out. I wiped the steam off the mirror and stared at myself.
The face looking back at me was a mess. My hair was flat, the whole left side of my face resembled a puffer fish.
A cut positioned below my eye beamed red, a large inky bruise circled the eye.
The other eye was bloodshot from crying.
A split seeped from the corner of my mouth.
But it was my eyes that held the most disturbing revelations.
I caught a snippet of the broken part people seemed to sense and reel away from.
My eyes were not warm like they usually were, there was no soft glow illuminating from them, no childish banter peaked their surface.
They were the color of green mould growing in the depths of a black cave—a rippling, dark pit.
I dropped my eyes away and focused on my aching side, the left side of my ribs were swollen and stealthy shades of indigo blue. I didn’t bother to brush my hair, I left it tumbled, dishevelled and wild.
I got dressed into pyjamas, threw on a matching robe and sat on the bed.
I didn’t want to face anyone. I wanted to curl up and allow sleep to cradle my thoughts.
But I was parched dry, and my head pounded from dehydration or concussion—maybe both.
I needed water. I headed downstairs. Each step shot an angry jolt through my chest. I fought to keep the pain from my face.
Karson watched me descend, I was glad when he didn’t speak.
I went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, shut the fridge door, opened the bottle and took a few sips.
“Did you find them?” I heard Karson ask.
“Not yet. Monique and Michael are still looking. They’re probably witches. A member of the public called it in to Matt, raving about people flying through the air, a girl with superpowers. I wiped his mind. Matt’s chasing up their names.”
Hesitantly, I stepped into the room, my emotions barely in check. I kept my head lowered, so my hair curtained the bruised side of my face.
“Hey there, Rocky,” Ethan said. I put the water bottle on the coffee table and glanced up. The humor collapsed, anger replaced it. His eyes became black and furious. His face stiffened, he stood perfectly still as if he wasn’t even breathing.
I swallowed heavily.
Then, as quick as his anger came, it fell away and his face softened. He flashed forward, gently touching the injured cheek with the tips of his fingers.
“That’s one hell of a bruise you got there,” he said softly.
I tried to be brave. Trauma depleted my strength. Slowly, I lost the battle. I felt my lips tremble. My eyes burned. I held my hands tight by my sides and I stood shaking, uncontrollable tears sprung to the surface.
“Hey,” he said tenderly, “you’re safe, you’re alright.”
Unquestionably, I was not alright.
I launched into his arms and hugged him.
He held me stiffly at first, and then hugged me back harder.
Pain barrelled through my chest and I flinched.
He eased his grip. His arms cocooned my body.
He placed his hands softly around the small of my back and stroked in long sweeping motions up and down my spine.
His breath warmed my neck. I closed my eyes, rested my head on his shoulder and sank into him. I felt safe in his arms, finally.
And I felt. And I felt… like I was home.
“It’s alright, Amy.”
“Your training saved my life,” I sobbed, tears and snot seeped into the white linen of his shirt. “Without it . . .” I didn’t finish. Without it, I would be, what? Dead? Raped? Tortured? A shudder wracked my body.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you.
Those three simple words choked me up all over again and made me cry even harder. I stayed in his arms for quite some time and yet somehow not long enough. But to survive in this world I knew I had to be tougher. I drew a few deep breaths and stepped out of his hold.
“Sorry,” I said, looking at the large wet patches that had penetrated the fabric of his shirt, revealing the outline of his chest.
He grinned. “You’re not the first girl to leave wet patches on me, Amy.”
I laughed, which re-split my lip and it began to bleed, seeping down in a slow sluggish trail.
“Ethan,” Karson roared and, without me even realizing he’d moved, Karson became a human blockade between us.
I glanced, confused, at Karson, and then back to Ethan.
He dropped his head and turned away, but not before I noticed the black of his eyes, glinting almost wickedly, like spiders’ eyes.
I’d never felt unsafe with Ethan, but I didn’t realize the extent of his desire for blood.
Of course he’d be thirsty, he hadn’t been away, or picked up, for a few weeks now.
He’d hung around with me, making sure I was okay. And he’d suffered for it.
Both hands flew up to my lips to cover the offending wound. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, it’s not your fault, it’s mine.” Ethan said thickly, keeping his head turned away and going straight to the whiskey bottle to pour a drink. He gulped it down. He poured another and gulped that down too.
I lowered myself to the couch. Karson handed me a handkerchief. I dabbed it softly against my lip, watching Ethan gulp a third drink down. I did what I always did when I didn’t know what else to do, I made an inappropriate comment.
“Steady up, Drac, we wouldn’t want you losing a tooth at midnight.”
I didn’t expect to see the pain on his face when he looked back. A deep torment etched into his eyes. Immediately, I felt incredibly guilty, for the joke, for bleeding. I got up quickly, mentally cursing the pain in my chest.
“Ethan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“You’re sorry?” He shook his head, baffled. “I nearly bit you and you’re the one that’s sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, I’ll be more careful,” I agreed.
He was studying me with continued bafflement and what looked like guilt on his face.
“You have no need to feel guilty, Ethan. You wouldn’t have done anything. Although, I am looking pretty damn gorgeous at the moment, so I could hardly blame you if you took a nibble.”
His eyes danced. “Let’s just say, with a face like that I’m certain you won’t be picking up for a while.”
“Oh shame, I was going to go out and try out one of those one-night-stands you find so appealing.”
“The only one-night-stand you’d get tonight would vibrate.”
I covered my mouth with my hand and tried hard not to laugh. “Oh God, you’re so gross.”
You have to ask yourself why a vampire would ask you, of all people, to move in with him.
Caron’s words settled uneasily in my stomach. I sat back down. “If resisting blood is so hard for you then why did you let me move in?” My voice was too high pitched to be casual.
He poured himself another drink and glanced across with a shrug.
“You needed somewhere to go, I have plenty of space and I get bored sometimes. Your personality is bearable, and I thought if it didn’t work out, I’d kick you out.” He took a sip of whiskey and moved over to the armchair, sitting down and flicking his ankle across his thigh casually.
It made sense, maybe. My mind turned to the time he’d told me he’d never met a girl he wanted to bring home. Our situation wasn’t romantic, though, so maybe that’s why it was different. My head throbbed from all the thinking. Suddenly, alcohol called my name.
“I think I need a drink,” I said, under a quiet breath.
Karson went to the cabinet, grabbed a glass and poured a baby-sized whiskey.
I raised my brow. Just the one, the other one was already raised from the swollen eye.
I took a sip, the alcohol climbed into the cut on my lips and inside my mouth.
Bee stings swamped my lip. I waved my hand madly in front of my face in a hopeless attempt to cool the sting.
It was as useless as a condom in a convent.
I sat the glass down on the coffee table.
Monique and Michael walked in. I brushed my hair forward and dropped my head to cover the side of my face.
“Gone. Witches for certain, I can smell their putrid stink a mile away. It faded and I lost it. They must have had a car waiting,” Monique said.
“Caron?” Karson questioned.
“No, I called Dahlia, she said it’s not them. They’re unlikely to stand back and not help,” Michael answered.
I glanced up, Monique’s lips curved into a sly smile.
“I do like the new look, Amy, it’s quite the improvement.”
“Amelia, don’t listen to her, you look gorgeous as always.” Michael leant down and kissed my good cheek.
“Michael, if you’re going to lie, make it believable at least,” I said, “when did you get back and how long are you staying for?”
“We got to town this afternoon. A few days, maybe longer now.”
They got to town the same afternoon I was attacked. I couldn’t help feeling concerned by the news, but it had to be coincidence. Just a coincidence.
“We will find out who did this and take care of it, you have my word,” Michael added, giving my arm a gentle, comforting squeeze.
His kindness moved a lump to my throat. I couldn’t speak. I nodded and gave him a small smile of appreciation.
Karson moved away from the fireplace and sat down on the couch next to me.
I wondered if he was worried my lip might bleed again and, if it did, how Michael and Monique might respond.
I was overcome with a sudden exhaustion so intense I struggled to keep my eyes fully open.
They felt grainy, as if sand had made its way inside the centre of my eyeballs.
I felt an urge to yawn, but was scared I’d reopen my lip.
I wanted to get up, but I knew it’d hurt. I sat unsure, not moving.
“Go to bed, Amelia, you look tired,” Karson said.
“In a minute.” I curled my feet under my body slowly, listening to them talk, although most of what was said didn’t register.
Their voices waved in and out, like they were carried on winds from afar.
Weariness crept over my eyes, leaden, they closed.
I felt my head rest against Karson’s shoulder, and my hand found his arm. Exhausted, I drifted and slept heavily.
I woke to Karson lifting me up. I struggled to pull my eyes open; when I did, it was just a sliver. Exhaustion pulled them closed again.
“What time is it? Put me down.” I blinked several times, trying to force my eyes to remain open. He didn’t put me down.
“It’s two, I’ve got you.”
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
“You’re not going to put me down, are you?”
“No.”
Weariness robbed me of the strength to protest. He sat me down carefully at the edge of the bed. He went to the window and peered into the darkness, searching for threats outside.
“I might sleep in your room, if it’s alright with you?”
I nodded, unsure if he was worried about threats from outside or inside the house.
“Do what you think you need to.”
I opened the drawer on the bedside table, located the Tylenol and threw four into my mouth.
I opened the water bottle and gulped them down.
Karson sat in the armchair. I took off the robe, sat it on the end of the bed, switched off the light and climbed gingerly into bed.
When I finally settled myself to some degree of comfort, I was facing the doorway, so my bruised side was up.
“You’re not sleeping in the chair staring at me all night, get in bed. It’s not like we haven’t shared one before.”
“I will get in in a minute, I’m not tired yet.”
I stared out into the darkness of night, aching from head to toe, aware of his presence, craving the comfort of his touch. Emptiness came, like the clunk of a prison door being shut. I was desperate for him to cradle my body against his, to whisper in my ear,
‘It’s going to be alright, I’ve got you!’ Even if only for tonight.
“Karson,” I said on a weak voice, “thank you for coming tonight.”
He didn’t respond for some time. Finally, he simply said, “Go to sleep, Amelia.”
Mind numbing exhaustion ended the night’s torture.