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Authors: Anastasia,P.

Dark Diary (15 page)

BOOK: Dark Diary
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“Whatever I want it to, huh?” She stopped in front of me, wrapped her fingers around my shoulders, and pressed gently. “I want it to mean
something
to you.” My eyes closed against my will at the feel of her fingertips sweeping down my neck. “And… I want you to trust me and stop holding back your feelings.”

My eyes reeled opened. “Trust you?” I forced her fingers away. “Surely you don’t believe there
is
something between us.”

“Yes. I do.”

She cupped both hands around the sides of my face. “You
felt something when you kissed me tonight,” she whispered. “I know you did. You let go—if only for an instant. And I want to know what it is that’s keeping you from admitting it. I want to know why you wear a cross around your neck, and hide it so defensively. Believing in God is not a crime. I want to know why you keep telling me to leave, and then returning to see if I am still here.” Her gaze hardened. “I only have one life, Matthaya. I’d really like you to be part of it.”

She pressed her lips against my cheek.

“Thanks for walking me home. Goodnight.” Her fingers slipped from my face and she backed away gracefully and smiled.

I watched her unlock the door to her house and go inside with less caution than usual. Her stepmother was out and I felt confident that Kathera would be safe for the night.

The door closed and I was alone in the darkness. I sighed
and stared off into the distance. I wanted to tell her that I could not be part of her life because I would have to witness the end of it. Immortality does not allow us to love for long, and so I have always chosen not to love at all.

But the lingering taste of Kathryn I had found on Kathera’s
lips allured me. Surely she would want me to love her for more than the apparitions her kisses induced.

Part of me wanted to believe I could possibly love a human, if even only for a short time. But that wasn’t an option. Derek’s scent was overwhelmingly strong in her hair and on her skin, and it was inevitable that I would lose her to his mortality if he pressed forward with his courtship.

She could love him…
if
she let me go. My uniqueness attracted her, but the harsh truth of our incompatibility would sink in eventually and then she would be gone.

Rain dripped into my eyes and I shook my head. Water droplets began hitting the ground much harder than they had earlier and the clouds thickened. Darker and darker they became until all but a faint glow of the moon had been swallowed up by their heavy gray cloaks. I felt what little humanity remained within me clawing at my skin.

Deep within my pale shell, there resided a shard of humility and grief. That splinter of my former self was enough to pierce my still heart every so often. That heart had fallen and risen in the wake of only one.

Every scent of Kathera made my blood stiffen as I recalled the sight of Kathryn. They were too much alike and I was beginning to long for her. To feel… something for her I could not justify.

Just as quickly and surely as I had sworn myself to my childhood love, I was suddenly weaving a story with another, daring to bind myself once more to an inevitable tragedy.

Humans, like vampires, forget. After many years, we forget
our mistakes. And so we are doomed to repeat them.

Memories are fragile things.

And someday Kathera would forget me…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MY HOUSE WAS EMPTY.
The silence was peaceful. With Aldréa gone, the night was less frightening. Maybe it was the crazy lovesickness fluttering around in my
stomach, or the fantasy that, somehow, Matthaya would watch
over me when Aldréa returned.

He had said it himself—I was safe with him. Though he had probably said it only to make me feel better, I wanted to believe him. I
needed
to believe him.

I felt no remorse over the fact that I had kissed him. But then he had kissed me back and a flurry of emotions made my heart race. At first, his kiss felt incredibly new and dif
ferent—exhilarating and triumphant. But then I had the realization that I’d kissed him before.

Only I hadn’t…

That was until the sensual pinch of one of his teeth had nicked me unintentionally and that sensation of familiarity eva
porated.

I bunched a section of my pillow into my fist and clutched
it tightly, retreating into the warm sheets of my bed. I could
still feel Matthaya’s cool skin. His soft fingers combing through
my hair as he held me close and promised me safety.

I could still taste him, though our encounter had ended less passionately than I had hoped. No matter how much of myself I offered him, a thick veil of secrets came between us. I wanted him to trust me. I wanted him to tell me those secrets.

Where did he go each night?

Where did he go each day?

What was he?

So many questions riddled my brain, but my tired body could humor them no more.

 

Raindrops hit the roof hard, each one of them part of an unbearable symphony of clattering roof tiles. An annoying leak in the gutter outside my window woke me during times like these.

TAP… TAP… TAP. The water hit the sill of my window and ran off down the side of the house.

My father was still away at his meeting and Aldréa was probably out spending time—and money—with her rich friends.

Hopefully Derek was holding up well without me at the shop. I was way behind on my demon goddess tattoo and there was just no way in hell Derek would have been able to fill in for me as far as that went.

I sat up on my bed. My mouth felt dry and I rubbed my eyes with my palms. It was difficult to get up when the light seeping in through my window blinds was dull and gray each day.

Was it too much to ask for a little sunlight?

The rain refused to cease and I was feeling the saddening effects of constant gloominess. I was tired of walking to work in the rain and I hated taking the bus.

My feet touched the fluffy rug beneath my bed and wrinkled the familiar softness between my toes.

 

The awful weather did me no favors on my way to work and the heavy wind showed no mercy to my umbrella.

I smoothed a hand over the back of my hair and patted down the frizz. I pushed open the door and avoided Derek’s eye contact by watching my shoes as I scuffed my feet on the entrance mat.

“How was your break?” he asked, coming out from behind the front desk. “You feeling okay?” He bent over to try to meet my lowered face. “Kathera?”

“I’m fine.” I averted my eyes, feeling guilty about the man in my life Derek didn’t know about.

I hung my wet coat up on a hanger in the back room and shook the excess water from the hem of my jeans. My shoes were soaked. The wind had trashed my umbrella.

I wanted the rain to go away. I wanted to feel the sun on my face and—

“Sucks out there, huh?” Derek motioned to the window.

“Yes!” I tossed my umbrella to the floor. “I hate this weather!”

I popped open a small compact and dabbed the dark mascara smudges from the edges of my eyes.

Derek chuckled softly.

“What’s so funny, Derek?” I took off my shoes and set them on top of the heater before turning to confront him.

“You’re kind of…” he paused to tailor his words, “
entertaining
when you’re upset.”

“What is it with you guys? You were going to say cute, weren’t you?” I laughed, even though I had tried not to.

“Maybe. Trying to avoid a lawsuit, that’s all.” He smirked. “But, hey. You said it. I didn’t.”

A rumble of thunder shook through the floor and I gasped,
bracing myself. I looked out the front windows and up at the massive army of storm clouds marching across the sky. It was getting darker by the minute.

Derek came to stand by me and we watched a white-hot flash of lighting illuminate the city. The building lights flickered on and off.

“You know what? Screw it,” Derek said, gruffly. He threw the lock on the front door and flipped the outside sign off. “Let’s finish up what we can in here and call it a day.” He turned to face me and shrugged. “No one’s gonna show up in this weather anyway. The forecast doesn’t look any better for tonight.”

“What about Stephanie?” I asked. Our other artist was scheduled to come in right after me.

“I’ve already asked her not to come in,” he replied. “I meant to tell you, too, but I wasn’t sure how bad it was going to get out there so I waited. I’m sorry.” He smiled at me
and then gestured to the window again. “I think you brought
the storm with you, Kathera.”

“I doubt that,” I sneered, closing the blinds and pulling the security grate down over the window. “The weather has been terrible for a while now. It’s just a coincidence that I’m here.”

“I was kidding,” he muttered from behind the counter.

We cleaned up the shop, did some inventory, and checked over some books before Derek picked my shoes up off the heater and delivered them to me.

“You think your dad’s home?” he asked. “You don’t normally leave this early.”

My dad was almost never home and this week was no exception.

“No,” I replied. “He’s at a conference out of state and won’t be back for a week or so.”

“Oh?” Derek handed me my shoes. “Sorry to hear that. What about your
incredibly pleasant
stepmother?”

I slid my jacket off the hanger. “Don’t know and don’t care.”

Damn it.
It was soaked with water and my umbrella was useless in its current state. Some metal wires had snapped at the joints.

“Kathera?” Derek cleared his throat.

“Yes?” I looked up.

“I’m not the best cook in the world, but… if you want to come over, I’d be happy to make you dinner.”

“Oh.” I squeezed my soggy jacket, unintentionally dripping water onto the floor. “Well, um…”

Derek grabbed a paper towel and bent down to wipe up the puddle.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“It doesn’t have to be a date or anything like that. Really.” He tossed the wet towel into the trash can beside me.

The last time I had had a real homemade dinner was back
before my mother died. And that was a long,
long
time ago. Dinner with someone else—anyone else for a change—would be nice.

Besides, it
wouldn’t
be a date this time, right? We were just closing early and he was being nice. Derek being Derek.

It wasn’t like I had much else to do.

Matthaya was probably home keeping dry. Wherever
home
was.

Derek pulled his red leather jacket off a hanger and started to put it on. “Don’t feel like you have to.”

“Thank you for offering. I’d love to join you.”

A second glance at my crumpled, soggy mess of a coat had him removing his own from the one arm he had barely gotten into it.

“If you’re coming over for dinner, I’m not letting you get sick from being wet in the cold.” He offered me his jacket, and the look in his eyes gently indicated I couldn’t refuse. “You’re the best I’ve got, Kathera,” he said. “
Artist,
I mean.”

I tossed on his jacket and rolled the sleeves up to my wrists. It fit loosely, but kept me dry as we made a break for his car in the downpour.

 

I hadn’t been to his house before, but I had an idea of where he lived. Though he had the entire place to himself now, he had once lived with his late father.
We went inside the single-story brick house and the massive living room filled me with awe. Hardwood floors at the entrance and pristine maroon carpeting from wall to wall.
Warm and inviting off-white stucco walls. A large, flat-screen television on the other side of the room in front of his couch. It was a beautiful place and he had
really
good taste.

“I’m tired of this weather, myself.” Derek shut the door behind me and trudged into his living room. He shook the rain from his hair. “Hey, do you mind if I change?”

“It’s your house.” I shrugged and smiled. “Sorry you got drenched, by the way, but thank you for letting me borrow your jacket.” I slipped it off and handed it to him.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, motioning toward the couch. “I’m going to hang this up and grab a new shirt.”

“Thanks.”

I plopped down on the soft chenille-covered couch in front of his television and made myself comfortable as he stepped out of the room. Wearing his jacket had left traces of his scent on my skin. Sandalwood or patchouli. I couldn’t tell what was blended together in his subtle cologne, exactly, but it reminded me of a cozy campfire in the woods with a splash of exotic heat.

There were shelves of old books and meticulously placed dragon
sculptures around his house, along with a stack of DVDs in front of his TV. Classics. Action movies. A few thrillers. Exactly what I had expected to find. A stack of free weights and an exercise bike were tucked into the far corner of the living room.

BOOK: Dark Diary
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