Chapter Three
Tulya
My smallish house on the outskirts of my family’s property was my refuge. On sunny days, I took solace in staring at the magnificently appointed stones lining the facade. On cold nights, I relished in my claw-foot tub.
I’d only left the party ninety minutes ago, so when the frantic knocking came as I slid into my bath filled with hot water and bubbles, disappointment blanketed my heart. Bam, bam, bam rang steadily from the large wooden door at the front of my house, followed by, “Tuvy!”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and gently stepped out of the tub, my hair in a messy bun on top of my head and suds dripping from my legs.
Not bothering to towel off when the third set of bams came, I dragged on my heavy robe and padded to the door.
Sometimes I wished I could find sanctuary off my family’s property.
Not bothering to ask who it was—I’d heard my mother chanting my name—I swung it open.
Mama, Ceci, Cinder, and Donovan rushed in from the snow, not bothering to be welcomed inside and ignoring my being in a robe, still half wet. Their comfort was more important than mine.
“Tuvy, we need your help,” Ceci said, grabbing my hand. “Aaack, you’re cold. Donovan, build a fire, will you?”
“It’s not necessary.” Confused by her sudden worrying about me, I tried to argue but the man was already down on his knees, stacking wood in the hearth. I granted myself a second to take in his back pulling on his suit, imagining the broad muscles under the fabric.
“Tuvyyyy,” Cinder cried, and I finally noted she was wearing a heavy jacket and there was makeup smeared across her face.
“What’s wrong, Cin?” I asked the question already knowing: as soon as I’d turned toward her, the sweat began to bead at my neck.
She needed my help.
“I’m sorry” was all I said when Cinder didn’t respond. Narrowing the gap between us, I began to lift my fingers toward her jacket. She’d have to take it off and let me touch her bare skin. Over the years, I’d found my force worked better skin-to-skin.
A fire roared to life in my living area, and Donovan stood and stated, “Don’t be sorry. Be vengeful, Tulya.” He stared at me with the same green eyes that had enchanted me earlier. “I need to ask you a question.”
My hand was still hovering near Cinder when Mama spoke. “Don’t touch her yet, Tulya.”
“What is going on?” I brought my fingers to the lapels of my robe, pulling it tighter, the hot and cold warring within me.
“Esmeralda, tell her,” Ceci said softly.
“We have been wondering for some time if you can transfer these types of feelings, Tulya?” Mama raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to understand and likely already knowing the answer.
Feeling Donovan behind me, his energy cooling rather than heating my back as a chill ran through me—although not the pleasing kind like earlier—I worried about my future.
This was a giant ask, one my mother had never made of me, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen it coming.
For a quick second I was just a girl and Donovan was only a guy, and I wished my body was normal and felt heat when someone stoked my personal fire rather than ice, ignoring the situation around me.
I forced myself back into the moment. “You mean, take the heartache out of someone and give it to another person? But why would I make someone else suffer?”
I heard Donovan clear his throat as Mama opened her mouth. “Because they deserve it,” he answered for her.
I knew Mama had zero softness or empathy, but I couldn’t believe this was really Donovan. Turning around, I met his face, and it was lit with anger.
“My brother has made a fool of us.” He spoke quietly but forcefully. “He went to Miami to do some business by the beach, and he caught feelings for a regular human.”
I held back my surprise. It was bound to happen.
“Now he’s babbling on about bringing her back here and marrying her. Procreating with a nobody—it’s unheard of. A human, no less.”
“Absolutely, I won’t allow it. I chose Cinder for him, and I’ve chosen for you,” Ceci said, sliding her gaze to Donovan.
I hadn’t realized she’d matched Magnum and Cinder, nor that she had handpicked someone for Donovan. That was on me, trying to keep out of anything directly to do with my mother and her hen crew.
“This isn’t about me,” Donovan said, his voice ripe with anger.
“It surely is, my dear son. If your brother shames us, it will affect my plans for you.”
“Not. Now. Mother. After. Christmas.” He punctuated each word, leaving no room for discussion but large windows wide open for me to wonder.
“The Minister would never allow the marriage, let alone a baby,” Mama interrupted, consoling her friend.
In Rubia, there was no such thing as separation of church and state, let alone repentance. All actions were deemed allowable or not by the Minister, and forgiveness was rarely offered for transgressions.
Donovan ran a hand through his dark brown hair and the sensual kind of goose bumps started to pinprick at my skin like earlier in the evening. I tried to stave off the shiver but I couldn’t, despite learning about his own mother finding him a partner.
He noticed. “You’re cold,” he had the mind to whisper, before gathering me in his arms without asking.
I didn’t argue. It wasn’t a touch fueled by need, rather giving, a side of Donovan I’d never seen.
“What do you want me to do?” I whispered, looking at Don’s chest, wondering what it felt like under the Armani dress shirt.
It was a little-known fact that Donovan visited New York often.
To shop and, I assumed, do other sordid things.
“Well, can you? Can you take the suffering Cinder is feeling and give it to this human?” he rumbled against me, deep and baritone. Coldness ran all the way to my toes, and he grasped me closer.
“What?” I found the strength to step back and felt my mouth fall open.
And I imagined how I appeared, standing there in a robe, hair likely a mess, my face resembling a clown’s.
“Why? How? No, I’ve never done that before.
Cinder, you can’t possibly want this?” I turned to face my contemporary in the room.
She lifted her head, her black waves falling over her eyes, then nodded. “We have to try to keep her away.”
“Ceci could go and create a weather pattern she won’t survive,” I said, not believing the cruelty coming out of my mouth.
“Or why not send Donovan to do the dirty work? He can inflict some pain that will send this woman hurtling away.” Swinging in his direction, I murmured under my breath, “Didn’t you make fun of me for following my mother’s orders? ”
He narrowed his eyes and mouthed, Touché.
Cinder said, “No.” She kept shaking her head. “It won’t work. Your mother said—”
I heard Mama’s boots clop close to me. It was clear these three women had quickly huddled before coming to me.
Mama began to speak, her voice reeking of finality.
“You will do this, Tulya. I will put in a good word with the Minister while you are in Miami, with Donovan as your chaperone, of course. He will recognize you when you return. Cinder will join you after you locate and corral the ghastly human who did this, and you will do what we ask. Period. Understood?” Her eyes darkening to the shade of coal, she narrowed her gaze on me.
“I said, are we understood?” she repeated.
“Your father is aware of my asking and is in full support,” she added as if that made a difference or I had a choice.
I nodded, afraid to speak. I knew that when it came to the Minister, Mama never backed down from a plan. She had her reasons and didn’t care that I had my own worries.
Causing someone pain was never in my plan; I’d been happy with my skills, allowing others to feel better. This was something different. Taking Cinder’s suffering away was one thing but giving it to someone else made me feel sick to my stomach.
“Donovan will be back in the morning to escort you. Get packed.”
I continued to nod to my mother, who clearly didn’t show up at my house on the evening of her glorious party to ask me if I minded the task at hand. This was a demand, and I was expected to jump for her and Ceci.
“What about Christmas? I’ll miss it. It’s next week.” It had always been my favorite time of year: the food, the songs, the wonderment.
“You will have Christmas next year.” Mama delivered that with a straight face as if her party wasn’t the focal point of her calendar.
“Sorry we disturbed you” was how Donovan left it. He turned back to stoke the fire, adding a log without even a glance my way.
“Thank you, Tuvy,” Ceci said, approaching and yanking me in for a hug, also without permission.
Cinder joined in the thanks, minus the touching. Mother gave me nothing, neither gratitude nor an embrace. In fact, she started walking toward the door, the other women in tow, Donovan rounding up the rear without even a good-bye.
“See you in the morning. Eight sharp” were his final words.
The door closed behind them, and the only bright spot was it would be warm in Miami. I could hide in the heat of the sun. Otherwise, I worried how many cold flashes I would have in my chaperone’s presence. My spoken-for supervisor. Funny, he didn’t mention it earlier when he said he liked my skin…
Maybe it was a new way of inducing pain?