Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
IN THE DARKEST PART OF the night, just before the sun starts rising, I sit in the library with Nial, Lillian, and Cameron. We’re quiet, listening for signs of attack or war, or whatever Jasmine has planned.
I do not know what is being said about me in town. This damage will be very difficult to repair.
At 5:29, I hear a whooshing sound, and the front door opens, in stepping the rest of our House.
“They’re hiding,” Anna says as she steps into the room, Samuel and Markov just behind her. “There’s no one at the House. But there’s blood there.”
“A lot of blood,” Markov says. And I see the glow in his eyes. The black veins are slightly raised around them. He’s thirsty.
“Looks like they’ve changed more than just one person,” Samuel says.
“The blood was fresh,” Anna says. She paces the room very slowly, her focus turned inward. “I’d guess they turned at least one more person yesterday, during the day. They must have known retaliation was coming and took off.”
“You couldn’t follow a trail?” I ask. I’m somewhat annoyed. I wanted this dealt with swiftly.
“The snow makes that difficult.” And she looks up at me with shame.
The deep, hard breathing pulls my eyes from her to Markov. He’s staring at me with glowing eyes, his nostrils flared.
“Markov.” I say it meaning to sound commanding, to snap him out of his desire for my blood, but it comes out questioning.
“I will return soon,” he says. And without a word, he turns, and walks out the door.
“It’s been difficult for him,” Lillian says. “Controlling his bloodlust like he has.”
“I never thought I’d see him like he is,” Anna says, shaking her head. “You’ve trained him well.”
“Markov isn’t some dog to me,” I say as Raheem walks in. “What are we going to do about Jasmine?”
“You put her down like the traitor she is,” he says coldly as he walks up to me.
He comes close. Too close for comfort. His breath warms my chest, his eyes boring into mine.
“If you wish to fulfill this role as leader and regent of this area, it is your job to deal with threats that may expose our kind. This woman is your problem, Alivia Ryan.”
Hot coals ignite in my chest. I don’t like being told what to do, I’m discovering this about myself lately. I lift a hand, place it against his chest, ignoring how firm and sculpted it is, and determinedly push him back away from me.
“I may not be the descendent of a pharaoh or a sheik, but you will respect that I am in fact a royal and grant me my personal space,” I say in a low voice. My eyes match his, glare for glare.
The black veins grow on his face as his eyes flare red.
Nial, Anna, and Samuel instantly surround me, blocking Raheem’s path to me.
Raheem gives a slow smile, though his eyes do not dim. Instead, I see a shift. Pride. Hunger. Admiration. “Oh how the King will toy with you,” he says. “Just before he kills you.”
Hisses fill the room and every pair of eyes but mine glow red.
“I do not fear the King’s intent to kill me,” I say, stepping from between Nial and Anna. “But I am not some play thing to be poised and tossed around.”
Raheem’s smile grows and that look in his eyes deepens.
Slowly, slow enough to convey the message that he means no harm, he raises his hand and brushes his fingers over my left cheek.
“You are such a glorious creature, Alivia. It seems almost a shame for you to resurrect. You’re such a unique human. ”
And his compliment, no matter how demented and twisted the contents of it are, gives me pause. Something lifts in my chest. Being complimented, being recognized and praised for what I am able to do, it’s something I have yet experienced.
I swallow hard, and take a step back from him. I blink three times, clearing the charmed fog from my brain. “I will figure this out. As you said, this is my job to deal with, and I’d appreciate it if you left me to it.”
Raheem raises an eyebrow at me. “As you wish.”
MY HANDS SHAKE AS I park the car in front of the cabin and shut the engine off. My insides quake. My palms sweat. My heart is hammering in my chest.
There are scorch marks on Lula’s front lawn. A broken window was patched and repaired with duct tape. And Ian’s front door—there’s axe marks on it.
My eyes stayed glued to his front door the entire time.
Slipping the keys into my pocket, I climb out of the Jeep and close the door behind me. At the same time, the front door opens.
Ian walks out onto his rickety front porch, hands stuffed into his pockets, just like they always used to be. His eyes are impassive and show me nothing as I walk toward the steps.
I stop at the bottom of them, looking up at him.
I have to fight back the tears that bite at the back of my eyes. I can’t help the redness that I’m sure is building there, but I bite my lower lip once to be sure it doesn’t quiver.
“What are you doing here, Liv?”
And the sound of his voice, the anger behind it, but the way he says Liv instead of Alivia, I have to look away from him and take several long breaths.
I don’t want to look weak.
I can’t afford to look weak in front of anyone, not in my current position and circumstances.
But this is Ian.
There’s no pretending here.
Finally, when I feel I have control over myself again, I look back at him.
“I came to let you know that King Cyrus will be coming in just over one week,” I say. My voice isn’t as calm as I’d like it to be. “I thought you should know. So you can prepare.”
He looks at me a long time, biting the inside of his lower lip. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes dart away from me, and back again. I can see the emotional war going on inside his own head. “You want to come in for a minute?”
The sting bites my eyes once more, but I nod my head perhaps a little to vigorously. “Yeah.”
He steps aside, and I don’t look at him as I climb the stairs and walk past him into the cabin.
It’s just as hard being back inside. A reminder of how I hid here once. How we trained. How he acted like he was annoyed by me, but really, we were building up to something amazing and grand and cosmic.
And then everything we became ruined it all.
I walk over to his worn out couch, past the garbage can in the kitchen that’s full of empty blood bags, and sink into it, sitting in the far corner.
I can rule a house of vampires as a human, but I cower from the one who left me and broke my heart into a million sharp shards.
Ian closes the front door and it’s only just now that I realize how light it still is outside. Him being out there, standing in even the dim light had to be painful. But now, we’re once again closed in darkness. He turns on a lamp and we’re cast in a dim glow.
“I, um,” I begin when he doesn’t say anything. “We caught the spy. He does work for the King. He let us know the timeframe.”
“You feel like you’re prepared?” he asks. He pulls over one of the dining chairs and sits in it, arms crossed over his chest.
I swallow once more. “I suppose so. I have the support I think I need. And, well, I was prepared to die once before.”
It’s a shallow and desperate tactic, but I so badly want to remind him of how much he meant to me. That I was once willing to die to save him. How much I think he still means to me.
And I think it works. Because Ian suddenly can’t look at me any more. His eyes go to the floor. His breath deepens and speeds up just slightly.
“I’ve missed you, Ian,” I breathe. So quietly I’m not certain I actually say it out loud. But it’s true and I can’t hold it in.
His breathing gets harder, harsher. And even though he won’t look at me, I can tell he’s warring with some kind of desire.
I stand, and slowly, cautiously, strained and desperate, I cross the room toward him.
“Ian,” I breathe. “I miss you every second. I miss you beside me in my bed. I miss the way you whisper my name. I miss the taste of your lips.” I stop just a foot in front of him. I am pathetic and low and begging, and nothing in me feels ashamed of it. “I miss us.”
And in a movement that is impossible, Ian is on his feet and I’m yanked up from the floor. My legs are forced apart and strong hands are gripping my ass, holding me close to Ian’s hard frame. My back is pushed painfully against the wall and then Ian’s lips are on mine.
The breath whooshes out of my chest in one lusty sigh. My lips part to invite Ian’s tongue, which is demanding and desperate. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling not so gently. Ian’s left hand supports my weight as his right comes to cup my face.
Stars and explosions are taking over my body. I am alive. We are all that has ever existed and all that will ever matter in this dark and dangerous world.
My hands slide down to his shirt and I tug it up, up and over his head, forcing our lips to part for just a second that is too long. I toss it too the floor and let my hands trace over his chiseled chest with no hesitance.
Ian pulls us away from the wall and turns, crossing into the kitchen. He sets me down on the kitchen counter, only to yank me toward him, sending a little explosion of pleasure through my center when my open legs collide with his hardness.
There’s a glazed over look to Ian’s eyes as he removes my shirt and his lips return to my collarbone. My head lolls back and my eyes slide closed.
“Why do I still want you so bad?” he growls into my flesh. “One damn look and that’s all it takes.”
His lips slide up, his teeth brushing over my exposed arteries. One bite. A few long pulls. That’s all it would take. And then we’d be the same.
“Do it, Ian,” I suddenly say, even as I feel his fangs lengthen against my tender flesh. “I don’t want the King to be the one who takes me. I want it to be you.”
And just like that, Ian yanks back. His eyes glow bright, his fangs fully extended. “What?” he demands, anger in his eyes. “Are you kidding me? Are you talking about sex or dying here? Because either is just…” He takes a step away from me, giving me a disgusted look.
The lustful, blissed out fog clears from my brain in an instant, and I realize what I’ve just said. “I…” I stutter. “I thought…”
“What, Liv?” he demands as he bends down and grabs my shirt from the floor and tosses it at me.
“That me killing you on my kitchen counter would fix anything? That it might magically change something? Or are we talking about sex, because supposedly you might be the King’s dead wife and who knows what kind of sick shit he’s going to do when he gets here in a few days. ”
“Ian,” I say, my tone getting louder. I hop off the counter, pulling my shirt back on.
“That’s not what I meant at all! I just…
it was something said in the heat of the moment.
But it’s true. I don’t want the King to be the one who kills me, but I am going to die sometime very soon.
” Emotion takes hold of my throat and squeezes hard. “And I’d rather it be you who does it.”
He gives me a look like he doesn’t even know me. “I’m sure you can get one of your newfound lackeys to do it.”
And once again I choke up. “I’m sure I could,” I say, and my voice cracks slightly. “Because they’re there for me. They understand loyalty.”
Ian scoffs and soon it develops into a full-bellied laugh. “Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? What you just said? Loyalty? They’ve been with you for just a few weeks. After leaving someone they’ve been with for fifteen years. You think they understand loyalty? You’re a fool if you do.”
I realize I’m not breathing any more. Tears well heavy in my eyes and I shake my head. My lip threatens to tremble. Every piece of me is breaking inside.
“Look at us,” I say quietly. “I thought love was the word that described what I tried to do for you that night. That it was why you kept coming back to me, knowing my fate. But it seems I was wrong.”
Ian places his hands on his hips, breathing hard through his nose as the red of his eyes slowly, very slowly fade. “It appears so.”
We just stare at each other for a long moment. I keep waiting to wake up from this nightmare. For something to change. For either of us to say we don’t mean what has just been said.
But it doesn’t. We don’t.
“I think you should leave, Alivia.”
And that, him using my given name, that’s the dagger through the heart.
So it’s a thing of survival when I speak. “If I do, I won’t come back.”
And it’s a promise. In more than one way. He’s been my voice of balance and reason when it came to this world. I won’t survive his rejection without protecting myself. I feel it closing in on me now. If he does this, I won’t come back to the girl he knew, because it will be too painful to be her.
Maybe he knows my true meaning. Because he takes a really long time to respond.
“Just go.”
My face goes numb when I nod. I grab my coat off of the couch. I open the door.
And I don’t look back when I walk out. When I walk back to my car. I don’t look to see if he’s watching me go as I back up.
And I don’t cry on the drive home.
Let my heart turn to ice, and I won’t wither and die.