Destiny United (21 page)

“I’ve been a victim my whole life.”

Ah, gods, Marcelo. You really fucked up this time.

He reached out to wipe her tear away, but she stumbled
back looking more afraid of him than their first night together. His heart
shattered into a million pieces. His mate was suffering, because of him. He
wanted to wrap his arms around her and take the pain away. To kiss her and hold
her and tell her no one would ever hurt her again, that he would protect her
with his life. But it was too late. She was afraid of him. He’d ruined any
trust they had in only a few minutes of uncontrolled vampire lust.

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice quiet and
soothing. “You said you were a victim. How so?” He had a feeling he wasn’t
going to like the answer. When she shifted her gaze he added, “And don’t lie to
me.”

She wiped the tear away with the back of her hand then
raised her chin in defiance. “You know what? I don’t feel like telling you
right now. And I don’t think you deserve to know, especially when you are no
different than the ones who hurt me.”

Enough!
Marcelo was many
things, but he was no rapist. He grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back
against a tree. “I am not a rapist if that’s what you’re implying!”

“Then prove it. Release me. Give me some space.”

Letting her go was harder than fighting the three
werewolves and six fae archers. He watched her walk into the trees, allowing
her several yards of space while following silently alongside her. She trudged
across the rocky ground, her head held down. Each soft sob felt like a stab to
the heart. She was in pain and it was his fault. This vulnerable little fae was
given to him to protect, to savor, to please, and he’d betrayed her trust. He
hurt her just like everyone else.
How I wish to hold
her! How I wish to convince her of my love!

Love? He thought on it for a moment. Yes, love. He’d only
ever loved one other. His marriage had been so long ago, and he scarcely
remembered human emotions. He’d been cold and hard before Aila stepped into his
life. She opened his heart, made him vulnerable. Twisted his insides until he
was willing to live in agony just to be near her. But that was what love did.
It made sane men mad.

He’d heard it said that love was a soft place one could
fall when life became too harsh to endure alone. He needed that soft place,
because a woman like Aila could bring a man like him to his knees.

Aila slowed to a stop next to a wide oak tree then
slumped down against it, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her head
on top. Instinct screamed to run to her, but common sense told him to wait. He gave
her fifteen minutes then approached. Her ears twitched, indicating she heard
him, yet she didn’t lift her head.

“Aila, we must press on.”

“No,” was the muffled answer.

“Others will come.”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Fine. But I’m not walking
with you.”

Not an option.
He sat on
the ground in front of her. “Then we settle this now.”

She looked up at him. Her eyes were puffy and red, her
nose bright pink, her cheeks wet with tears. This moment would be etched in his
memory forever. A warning never to cause her this pain again.

“What can I do to make atonement?”

“I don’t know. How ‘bout I bite
your
neck till you bleed.”

In answer he tilted his head giving her access to his
neck. When she grimaced he said, “What then? Do you want to hit me? Punch me?
I’ll give you as many shots as you want.”

“Not everyone resorts to violence so easily, vampire.”

He scooted closer and tried to touch her hand. She pulled
away. With a sigh he said, “I’m sorry, Aila. It will not happen again. Even if
I have to starve, I will not take from you without your permission. I vow it.”

She didn’t acknowledge his apology. “I’m so tired of
being pushed around. And…and taken advantage of. Oh, don’t worry about Erin,
she’s so nice you can do anything you want to her! Take my bedroom, steal my
homework, toss me away like garbage, give me to someone else to deal with. Nobody
ever asks me what I want. They just walk all over me. And why? Because I’m
nice! I swear it’s a curse. I don’t want to be nice anymore.” She hiccupped and
brushed the tears from her eyes. “But I can’t help it.”

Marcelo’s heart broke for her. “Yes, you are a sweet,
gentle soul. But
querida,
never mistake that for
being weak.” More firmly he told her, “You are not weak.”

Her voice changed from anger to sorrow. “I’m no stranger
to betrayal, Marcelo. I just hoped…” She shook her head and looked away.

“Hoped what?”

Fresh tears flowed from her eyes. “I just hoped it would
be different with you.” She sounded so small, so vulnerable.

Marcelo’s face crumpled in pain. How he wished he could
go back in time, just thirty minutes or so. “You have to understand,
querida
, it
is
different with me. I’m not going
to make excuses for how I behaved, only assure you it will not happen again. I
hate seeing you hurting like this. Please believe me.” He put out a hand,
pleading, “Let me hold you,
mi amor
. Let me
comfort you.”

She was shaking her head before he finished his plea. “No.
I’m done with this. I’m done with vampires, and the fae, and magic, and
violence. I don’t belong in this world. I just want to go home.”

She
was
home. Home was
with him, by his side. Would she ever accept that? Marcelo would have given her
the world if it would have made her happy. But letting her go was the one thing
he could not do.

“I’m in over my head, Marcelo. You know it. Those
werewolves were the scariest fucking things I’ve ever seen. I’m no hero. I’m no
fae warrior. Did you happen to notice I was cowering behind you?”

“Yes, but then you picked up a bow and arrow, which you’d
never even touched before, and you shot all three of them. When it came down to
it, you were there, Aila. And that’s a hell of a lot more than most people.”

She tossed him a disbelieving look.

“You could have killed me too, while I was feeding from
you. But you didn’t, which –”

“Which makes me a victim. Weak. Just like you said.” He
started to shake his head but she was no longer looking at him. “My God, I
haven’t felt so helpless since…”

She trailed off, keeping her shame hidden, allowing it to
break her spirit. But not anymore. Now he would demand the truth, even if he
had to push her through ugly memories to get there.

“Since when?” he asked. “Don’t shut down on me, love. I
need to know.”

Unable to stand the distance any longer, he edged closer
so their knees were touching. He took her hand in his, squeezing it tighter
when she tried to pull away. Her gaze was averted, her body closed off. That
wouldn’t do.

He put a gentle finger under her chin forcing her head up
to meet his gaze. “Were you raped?” he asked.

Her expression gave her away. She squeezed her eyes shut,
tears spilled onto her soaked cheeks, her bottom lip trembled.

More to himself he said, “And that’s why you didn’t want
me to…and that’s why you have panic attacks.” It all made sense now. He studied
her pained expression. “Are you afraid of being hurt again?”

She nodded.

He jumped up from the ground. “Get up,” he ordered.

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“Stand up. I want to show you something.” She didn’t
move. “Please.”

She looked confused but she stood.

“I’m going to rape you. Stop me.” Then he attacked her,
moving as fast as a strong human male was capable. She would be angry with him
but this was an important lesson she needed to learn.

At first she was so stunned she barely managed to evade
him. When her movements became sharper, angrier, her confidence seemed to grow.
She even fought back, punching, kicking, finally accessing the bloodthirsty
warrior inside. Maybe acting out her anger was exactly what she needed. Maybe
imagining kicking a rapist’s ass was more therapeutic than years of talking to
a stranger on a couch. A few minutes later, he stopped.

***

“What are you doing?” Aila was horrified. “Is this
supposed make me trust you?”

All he said was, “Faster.”

Then he went at her again, moving at a preternatural
speed, making her lose her breath trying to keep up. Her muscles burned in
protest but she couldn’t deny the exhilaration each time she landed a blow.

He came to a halt and she exhaled in relief.

“Watch me carefully,” he said. “Look for signs of my next
move.”

“I’m tired, Marcel –”

She was cut off when he grabbed for her. She skirted away
and landed a kick to his gut.

“Good,” he said with a little cough. Then he picked up
the pace.

“Watch carefully,” he said between strikes. “Look for my
signals.”

What the hell is he talking about? And how can he treat me
like this after what he did? Where’s the apologetic flowers and chocol –

A large hand wrapped around her throat. He gave her a
shake. “Focus!”

“Fuck you!”

He grinned. She growled then raised her arms overhead and
slammed them down over his arm as she twisted her body away, effectively releasing
her from his hold.

As they sparred again, she tried to do what he said. She
looked for signals to anticipate his next move, but she just couldn’t see any.

“My feet,” he hinted.

He slowed down enough for her to follow. Just before she
struck, he shifted his feet in the direction he planned to move.

“Do you see it?” he asked. “Most people give themselves
away. If you find their signal, you can predict their actions.”

Maintaining a slower speed, they practiced until she
matched him strike for strike. Then he stopped signaling with his feet and started
with his eyes. She sparred ten times better once she noticed he was giving
himself away.

At the same time, he subtly changed his style to cover a
range of fighting methods. He slowed down when he introduced a new style, allowed
her to adjust, and then sped up so she could practice. He struck high and
strong emulating a werewolf’s movement. Then he used speed as an advantage like
a vampire. By the end of their impromptu session, they were both leaning on their
knees panting. Muscles she didn’t know she had felt like they were on fire.

Marcelo straightened and looked into her eyes. “You see,
querida
? No human male stands a chance against you.
Stick with me and no vampire will either.”

With a sobering glare, she said, “Except you.”

The comment hurt, she could tell by the sudden drop of
his gaze. She felt an unexpected twinge of guilt but pushed it away. He deserved
it. He had betrayed her.

When she looked up at him again, he had something
dangling from his fingers, outstretched towards her. Her necklace.

“A little late for that,” she said, taking it from his
hand.

When she fumbled with the clasp he spun her around and
did it for her. “For peace of mind,” he said. He turned her back around, his
eyes still pools of regret. “I have to take care of the bodies. Will you wait
here for me?” He phrased it as a question though she didn’t really have a
choice.

She nodded.

He stared at her for a long moment then exhaled. “Keep
that bow handy.”

“I know.”

He nodded once then disappeared.

Several minutes later a pillar of smoke rose from below
the cliffs.

He reappeared at her side, giving her a little start. “Will
you walk with me now?” he asked. Again she didn’t really have a choice.

She nodded and picked up her backpack and new weapon. As
she followed him into the forest, she muttered, “I still haven’t forgiven you.”

He stiffened then his shoulders slumped and she knew he’d
heard.

***

They walked for miles in silence, stopping only to clean
off when they passed a river. Aila didn’t complain though she must have been
exhausted. It felt wrong to push her, but they needed to get far away from the
location they’d last been seen.

Marcelo had attempted physical contact whenever possible;
taking her hand to help her up a steep section of loose rock, carrying her
across the raging river. She had allowed it but felt stiff in his arms. How he
craved her touch, yearned for it. He vowed to keep working for her forgiveness.
Forever if he had to.

“Where did you get the bow and quiver?” Marcelo asked,
breaking the silence just an hour or so before dawn.

“Umm…I found it. At the top of the cliffs.”

“That’s strange.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He waited for her to explain. She didn’t. “That’s it? You
didn’t sense anyone nearby?” He looked her in the eye but she averted her gaze.
She was hiding something.

“There was a note. It said it was a gift. It had the
initials KW.”

This disturbed him. Who was KW and how had he been near
Aila with him unaware?
It had to have been a
fae. They were known for their archery and they had the magic to sneak up on a
vampire undetected. But why had a fae left a gift for Aila while simultaneously
trying to kill her?

“Do you know who KW is?” he asked.

“No,” she answered too quickly.

Liar, liar.
Didn’t she
know she couldn’t lie to a vampire? He could hear her heart rate accelerate. He
could smell the deception. If he wasn’t on such rocky ground with her he would
have yelled at her for even attempting to lie to her mate. But he let it go,
for now.

“So archery is a skill of the fae?” she asked.

“Yes.” Both courts, but especially the Seelie. They were
legendary archers, bow and arrow their primary weapon. It made sense that Aila
would have a natural ability with it. Because she had both dark fae and light
fae in her blood, she had an interesting advantage. Marcelo would continue to push
her training, starting with weapons as soon as they reached the Underworld. She
needed to know just how strong she really was. And he’d feel better once she
was prepared for the coming unrest.