Moonless (17 page)

43

Nightmare
s

She froze, rooted to her spot, deaf to the peal of breaking glass and liquid coursing toward her slippers. Any instant those eyes would change, burn a sickly red. She was going to die.

“Alexia?” His voice pulsed softly.

“A-Arik?”

He sped toward her in the darkness—faster than she expected. She retreated a couple steps, pulling her dressing gown closer, embarrassed by her inappropriate attire.

“W-what are you . . . doing here?” 

He half smiled. Even in the absence of light, she discerned the flawless shape of his white teeth. “Watching.”

The absurdity of his answer shook her off balance—fueling her dread—but no red pupils appeared. She swallowed dryly. “Watching for what?”

His brow rose. “Ah, you know then.”

She took two more steps back, stumbled, and caught herself on the rail as he reached for her. She shifted away from him, flustered and humiliated. “How did you gain admittance in the middle of the night?”

“Sarah invited me to stay,” he whispered, still poised to rescue her from her own silly blunder.

“Oh.” The flood of emotion poured over her again. She bit it back. She wouldn’t reveal the potency of the injustice he’d done her—and that she’d done to herself.

He offered a hand. “Join me?”

She stared at his fingers. Let the hopelessness grow? Encourage the hole in her chest? But she had to heed his invitation—even inappropriately dressed—or face the fears waiting in her isolated chamber.

She reached for him.

The connection sent lightning up her arm, pulling a blush to her cheeks, and she scolded herself for it. He guided her toward the empty study as she reminded herself again: she hated him.

He seated her on the couch and took the vacancy at the opposite end. His skin radiated a brilliance from within, sleeves rolled back to reveal half of his forearms—well-formed. His casual shirt flared open at the top, granting her a view of his flawless neck and just the hint of a bare chest, magnificence she would never know.

Their eyes connected.

“You are awfully brave.” He nodded.

“Why would you say that?”

A quiet smile. “Do you have the nightmare often?”

“Once a year. Birthdays usually.” She didn’t mean to answer, but the way he’d asked—like an old friend—drew the words from her. She scowled.

A pleat appeared in his brow. “These extremes are perilous.”

She had no idea what he meant, so she ignored him. “How did you know about my dream? And you said
the
nightmare.”

“So I did.” He frowned, his scar stretching.

“How do you know it reoccurs?”

His voice softened, head bowing. “Because I have the same one.”

She stared in disbelief.

He shifted, leaning closer. Her breath caught. “Alexia, there is something I want to tell you, something I am afraid you will not understand.”

Here it came. He would confess how he cared for Sarah, and how that heavenly morning on the roof had been nothing more than a mistake.

“Our lives form a circle, yours and mine.”
   

She waited. Nothing more came. Relief! “And what is that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled evenly. “We have the same dream.”

“One that will come to pass?”

His brows lifted. “Do you think it will?”

“Feels like it.”

He took her hand. Exhilaration raced through her, tickling up her arm and overwhelming her reservations. She wanted to wrap his arms around her, to quash this belief that his actions were motivated merely by duty.

His eyes summoned hers. “I am here, and you are safe.”

She pulled her hand back. “And what about Sarah? Is she also
safe
while you are here?”

He shook his head and sat back, words flat. “This is not about Sarah.”

She scowled. “Then what is it about?”

“The Soulless.”

A shudder shook through her. “Is that what you call them?”

“It is what they are.”

“Soulless?” Her voice sounded very small as she recalled shredded black cloaks, soaring toward her under the absence of a moon.

He braced on his knees. “They hunt in an attempt to rekindle the flame of life.”

“They looked quite alive to me.”

He nodded. “They are cripples, corpses of beings who gave themselves completely over to madness. They recall what it is to burn, to feel, but they lack the ability. They would do anything to reacquire it,
anything
, and they find the most satisfaction in preying upon the Passionate.”

She swallowed. “And do they regenerate through this hunt?”

He looked away. “No.”

She glanced out the window to be certain no movement broke the landscape.

“They occasionally walk in daylight,” he whispered. “That is how they track us, but they do so at a price.”

“What price?” She wasn’t sure she actually wanted the answer.

“They must feed, or kill.”

A silence passed between them as she processed the information. “If they can walk in the day, why have I never seen one?”

“Have you not?” His eyebrow twitched. “They appear quite normal in the sun when satiated.” A hand landed overtop of hers, calming in essence, devastating in the longing it instilled. “They are adept to deception, and unbelievably intelligent—centuries of practice.”

“Are you . . . one of them?” The words choked out.

A grin broke his frown. “No.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded through her. “How do we discern them?”

“The eyes. The hunger can be seen in their eyes.” His thumb stroked over her knuckles.

She caught her breath.

He shifted closer. “The Passionate suffer a special fate when attacked.”

“What happens to us?”

“We join the ranks.”

Become undead? One of these living corpses? She squirmed.

His grasp tightened around her fingers. “I once caught one playing at clergy.”

She nearly drowned in the blood now pulsing through her ears—the recollection of a preacher whose eyes harbored the greatest terror. “You are lying!”

He watched her through his brows. “You know I am not.”

She was at a loss. That day at the age of ten, she had actually witnessed evil? She could have been consumed by one of these empty shells? “I do not believe—”

“I know.” He tugged her nearer, bringing her face within inches of his. She looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time tonight. A storm brewed in his aquatic spheres.

She swallowed. The eyes. John had always been so careful not to let her see his eyes, but she had occasionally glimpsed the bloodthirsty hue. “John is he one of them, is he not?”

His head bowed.

“And yet you know him—and he, he said I had been touched . . .”

His eyes widened. He released her and sat back.

“Is that a bad thing?”

He rose and paced away, driving his hands through his hair and covering his face. “He said that?”

“What is between you? One moment he wanted to kill me and the next . . .” The realization dawned. She could have become one of the Soulless this afternoon—no, tonight!

The reason Arik had come.

“Could you have stopped him?” She turned to his rigid form. “Can you still?”

Grief squeezed at his eyes. “I should have sent someone else.”

“Someone else?” She paled. “To protect me?”

“I am sorry, Alexia.”

And finally it was confirmed: he did not want this. Even if he desired her, he would not choose her. He was only here to fulfill the duty of keeping her safe.

His head shook. “But do not fear. I shall see you through this, somehow.”

She’d returned to hating him. “Do not bother. I am leaving for home in the morning.” She stood. Her vision shuddered wildly. Pounding echoed in her ears.

She probably should have eaten something today.

The floor rushed up.

44

Agony

Kiren tucked the covers up around her chin, unable to resist brushing a hand over her raven locks.

No.
He pulled his fingers back.

He groaned and sat. The chair beneath him was solid, much more so than his resolve. How long could he do this—how long while his lips burned to possess hers?

“You are wise to hate me. I wish that I could be so wise.” His nails bit into his palm, and he closed his eyes.

45

Torture

Alexia woke in her bed, the covers violently twisted in her fingers. Pale morning light shed its sanity on her still staggering mind. Shards of shattered light smiled up from the floor.

Had it been another dream? A dream within a dream?

She tossed her blankets aside and dressed.

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, she crouched down to draw a finger over the smooth wooden floor. No sticky trail remained from her shattered glass or its contents, yet another confirmation to her delusion. She moved into the parlor.

The warmth of sunrise spilled peachy light over the empty couch. She drew a hand across the sofa’s scrolled lip, desperate for some evidence to prove her wrong.

“Alexia?” Sarah appeared in the doorway. “Dearest, it is time for breakfast.”

She nodded, realizing her absence yesterday must have confused and worried her aunt. They arrived in the dining room only to meet a set of stunning blue eyes.

Alexia gasped.

He rose and Sarah beamed. She turned to her niece. “Arik has accepted an invitation to join us for the holidays. Is that not wonderful?”

Wonderful for whom?
Alexia thought acerbically.

46

Concern

Alexia stepped out of the dining room, and Sarah pulled Arik aside. “She has not guessed that I dragged her all over the countryside at your behest, has she?”

“She has not.”

“You assured me you can cure her of this,” she shook her head, “this disastrous depression.”

His overwhelming eyes met hers. He placed a hand on her arm. “And I shall.”

Sarah could not stop the heat that rose to her cheeks. He was touching her. Never mind that she’d made her decision—much more of this and she was likely to reverse it.

She blinked away from him and noticed Alexia, frozen in the doorway.

47

Avoidance

It certainly wasn’t easy convincing Sarah to let her go home.

“But the Christmas invitations are sent! We have friends coming—”

“I know dearest, but I—” Alexia swallowed back her jealousy. “I grow homesick with so much distance and time. I miss Father and Mother . . .” She faltered at the aching memory of her surrogate parent. “. . . a-and everything.”

“Is that why you have not been eating?” Sarah scowled. “And the broken mirror—”

Alexia looked away. “I am not well.”

Her aunt frowned.

“But it is not your doing!” Alexia reached out. “I simply miss home.”

“I missed it too.” Sarah’s smile wavered and steadied. “The stable hand informed me this morning the carriage axle is broken. We will send you off when it is fixed, unless you have changed your mind by then.”

“I will not.”

Her aunt sighed.

“Thank you, Sarah.”And she slipped away to find solitude.

***

Alexia couldn’t escape him, no matter how she tried! When she retired to the library, Arik entered to consult the wall of books, Sarah babbling frivolously at his side. When she hastened to the kitchen, he stood, testing the cook’s latest concoction. When she stepped out to the freezing yard, he shuffled by, her aunt in tow, and when she finally resorted to holing up in her room, he penetrated by means of “a tour.”

She then turned to distraction, carrying a book she’d read three times, but none of it would sink in. His lovely eyes, so incredible, so deep, followed her constantly. She ignored them, focusing on the first word of each page until it stuck.

Cards occupied that evening around a study table and she could not meet Arik’s stare from across the table. How dare he be present! How dare he act charming! Alexia’s inner lip began to bleed half way through the night for how often she bit down.

When at last they retired it was past midnight. Sarah curtsied and wished Arik a good night, while Alexia spun on her heel. She could not expel her agitation, even after she and Sarah settled in her aunt’s room.

“That dear man is the most pleasant of company!” Sarah giggled.

“Is he?” Alexia drew the brush through her near-sister’s locks. “And what about . . . John Radcliffe?” She shuddered at her own suggestion, remembering those menacing red pupils.

“Ah, John.” Sarah’s cheeks turned scarlet.

Alexia gasped. “What happened after I escaped on Sunday?”

“Oh, Lexy!” She covered her enflamed face. “I know you two have not become acquainted, but he promised to try. He will come to visit again soon.”

Alexia didn’t know if she should tell her aunt the truth or be happy for her. She swallowed. “Is John your favorite?”

“I very much like him.”

“But which do you prefer?”

Sarah turned, brows drawn. “Can you really ask? It is like comparing Apollo and Poseidon.”

Alexia wrestled her aunt’s tresses back through her comb. “How long have you known Arik?”

Sarah smirked. “You have taken a liking to him.”

“If you mean by that a
dis-
liking, then yes, very much so.”

“I cannot fathom how. He is delicious.”

Alexia kept her face down, swallowing hard. “How long?”

“We met when I turned sixteen, which would make this six, almost seven years? I found him in the garden the night of my birthday. He said he lost his way, that he wandered onto our property by accident, only he was so enchanting I did not encourage his departure.” She bit her lip, grinning. “I would have wished away my future that very night if he’d allowed it.”

Alexia stopped herself from smacking her near-sister.

One kiss. They had shared one kiss. Arik was free to love whom he loved.

“He came again the night of my engagement party—and we met once again in Charles’s garden. He seemed deeply interested in whether or not I wished to escape the marriage. Such a nice fellow! Had I not been promised, I would have approached Charles about him.”

Alexia only managed to keep from ripping out Sarah’s hair by biting the inside of her cheek.

Her aunt sighed. “We crossed paths again when I had been married two years—at a country inn. He politely inquired about my state. He expressed interest in Elizabeth North then, if I recall correctly.”

Alexia closed her eyes and froze, unable to trust her hands from wreaking havoc.

“And twice more on outings we met, but it has never been anything greater until recently.”

“Greater?” Her heart stopped, eyes jolting open. “What do you mean?”

Sarah twisted to see her niece. “He has visited me thrice in the last month, and he is very discouraging about John.” She grinned wickedly. “You must agree there is nary a man in England so agreeable to look upon.”

Alexia squeezed the comb handle, knuckles white. Somehow she managed to keep a smile on her face. “You like them both?”

Sarah’s grin broadened. “Methinks men fancy a challenge. Make them go out of their way, and you will find they express their intentions a great deal sooner.”

They driveled on about several other unimportant topics before Alexia abandoned her aunt for her own room, but her agitation would not fade. Arik had cared about Sarah enough to come to her, to offer her an alternative to her first marriage—and now that she was free?

Alexia paced, unable to sleep, growing more and more agitated. Finally she donned her dressing gown and sought her nightly remedy: cider.

The parlor doors hung wide as she passed. She peered inside. Starlight draped the couch as it had the previous evening—in her dream. She recalled how the light feathered across his scar and perfect lips, how dearly she had ached to lose herself in his embrace.

A throat cleared.

She twirled, clutching at her heart.

Starlight caressed brilliant azure eyes as they pierced into her. “Trouble sleeping?” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

She tugged her robe closer. “What are you doing here?”

A smile pulled at his cheek. “I thought I made that quite clear last night.”

She blinked. It
had
happened? She recalled the brush of his fingers across hers as he’d explained about the Soulless, encouraging her hopes—and then he’d spent the entire day with Sarah. She hugged herself conscientiously. “So you will persist, doing whatsoever you deem reasonable, even to societal and emotional impropriety?”

He turned a wary eye on her. “Have I offended you, Alexia?”

She straightened her shoulders, funneling her rage. “Only insofar as you have used my feelings to secure your purposes.”

He approached. She scuffled backward bumping into the wall. He halted right before her, head tilted, voice soft. “What in my manner has suggested insincerity?”

She scoffed. What indeed! “Perhaps the way you look at me—with sorrow in your eyes, or the way you withdraw in agony after a touch, or how you can kiss me in such a vehement manner and then disappear for a month!”

His eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched.

“Or how you can entertain Sarah’s affections when—” His hand thumped into the wall beside her head. She jumped. His overwhelming eyes turned up in full force, a tidal wave of burning desire. She froze in its wake, unwilling to dive for safety.

Through grated teeth he hissed, “I am trying very, very hard to be civil with you.”

“Civil?” She exhaled. “Because you cannot very well act thus and help but loathe me?” His brows crunched down. She crossed her arms. “I watched Mother die and survived the dismantling of my entire world. I do not need sheltering from the truth.”

He nodded, glaring at her through his lowered brows. “Your touch does cause me pain, to gaze upon you is torture, and for your kiss . . .” He tipped her chin toward his. “. . . I will give my very soul.”

She gasped.

“Is that what you want, Alexia?” His eyes closed.

She shook her head and reached out, daring to touch him for the first time. Her fingers brushed over his expressive brow. He inhaled sharply. She trailed down the curve of his temple, the zigzag of his scar, the point of his chin and finally the softness of his parted lips.

His eyes snapped open.

She met them, startled by the raging tides within. “You want me? Just me?”

He leaned in, halting so that his lips hovered above hers. “With every breath.”

She slipped her fingers into the ginger waves behind his ear, closing her eyes. “Then what are you waiting for?”

His arms wrapped around her, drawing her body against his. She inhaled his oak flavor and shivered under the warmth of his breath. His lips skimmed across hers. She pulled him in with both hands. Their mouths collided. She lost all sense of space and time under the pressure of his surf, and then she was floating, floating on his current, dazed and glowing in the sun.

“Oh, Alexia . . .” He groaned and pulled away. She tightened her hold on him, silencing him once more with her eager lips. He returned her ardor as though he too were drowning, so hungry for her that he would not relinquish, even for air.

She pushed him back, gasping. He panted with her, arms tender but unyielding. He pressed his brow to hers, teasing his nose across hers, tempting her mouth back toward his.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Why what?” He dipped down, kissing her briefly.

“Why, if you feel this way, have you kept a distance?”

He leaned back, so they could see one another’s eyes. “It is worth it.” He drew a hand through her loose curls, ringing them around his fingers and pulling her nearer. “Whatever the cost, you are worth it!”

She blinked up at him, all the more confused.

“I will explain, but do not ask it of me.” He smiled, drawing near her waiting lips once more. “Not tonight.”

She nodded and surrendered to the pounding of their hearts.