Deceived (Burned Book 2) Page 21

  "In here." I didn't bother to turn toward him or leave the closet. Instead I waited for him to come to me. A small fleeting triumph of power, but I'd take what I could get at this point.

  "Ah, you bought some new things?" I didn't answer as it was obvious what I had done all day. Catching sight of the backless black number as I hung it up, he hummed in appreciation. "You should wear that next Saturday."

  I reviewed my calendar in my head, what I could recall from memory anyway. There was nothing that would require dressing up. "What is next Saturday?"

  "I'm holding a press conference."

  "And I'm required to be there?" I stared into the depths of my closet as if the answers would be spelled out on the fabric.

  "Yes."

  "In this?" I ran my fingers along the soft material.

  "That's what I said." Irritation was heavy in his voice. His words were sharp and biting.

  "I'll consider it." My answer was clipped, my tone matched his.

  "Arabella. Dear." He dropped his voice, the soothing tones wrapped around my wounded heart, doing nothing to ease the ache. His arms wrapped around me from behind, embracing me as he rested his head on my shoulder. It felt just as empty as the hug from the coat. "I'm sorry I was so rough with you. My behavior was uncalled for and unnecessary. I was in a foul mood and I took it out on you."

  He kissed my ear, my jaw. They trailed down my neck, each peck as empty and cold as a brush of winter air. "I will try not to let that happen again. Do you forgive me?"

  I thought an apology would make me feel better, but it did nothing. My heart was too broken, too damaged. He could no longer affect me.

  "All I wanted was an apology," I lied as I turned in his arms. I sank deeper into his cold embrace. "I'll wear the dress. I have just the pair of shoes—"

  "I'm sure you do." He chuckled, his eyes darting to the shelves of shoes covering an entire wall of the room. "I love being able to provide you with things you enjoy." He hummed against my neck, his breath warm. His tongue darted out licking along the skin. I struggled not to stiffen in revulsion, reminded of the display with Sarah the other day.

  He jerked away. My body was flung to the side without his support.

  "I haven't fed well tonight, my dear. I apologize again. It seems to be the night for it."

  I sighed heavily, my acting skills impressive as I banked the relief I felt. "Go take care of it." I paused, a nagging worry eating away at me. "Will I see you later tonight?"

  But I knew I would, for some reason I was back in his good graces.

  "Count on it."

  He fled, leaving me alone in my sanctuary once again. His parting words rang in my ears: count on it. The laughter bubbled over and spilled out of me.

  I collapsed in the empty closet. My laughter slowly shifted to sobs. I could almost hear Daniel's laughter as he poked fun at Alejandro's comparison to a certain purple puppet from Sesame Street.

  God, I missed him. I missed the light he brought into my life, the laughter. He could make any situation funny.

  There was no room left in my life for laughter. And soon enough what light I had left would dim into nothing.

  ***

  "Arabella, dear, I know this isn't something we've discussed before." Alejandro sat in front of me on the chaise. Alarm slithered up my spine and wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air.

  "What is it?" I was proud that my voice was clear and unaffected. Fuck lawyer, I should have been an actress.

  "I want you to marry me."

  My heart slammed against my ribs. My breath caught on a gasp. It tumbled out, tossing and turning like my stomach.

  Nothing he could have said would have shocked me more.

  Marry? Him?

  In my mind I laughed hysterically, laughed until I started screaming. On the outside, I was the picture of calm. I knew this wasn't the question it seemed: I had no real choice in the matter. What was I going to do, say no? That wouldn't end well.

  "Of course I'll marry you, Alejandro." My lips formed the words he wanted to hear. My tone even and warm.

  Agreeing. I was agreeing to this nightmare.

  My mind spun in circles, flipped through various options and discarded them, finding no realistic way out of this mess. I was trapped in a platinum cage of my own making, one draped in jewels, Jags, and Louboutins.

  "Excelente." He withdrew a box from his pocket. The mark of an exclusive jewelry designer on the lid.

  "May I ask what brought this on?" I stumbled out, hoping the tremble in my voice would be mistaken for excitement and not the fear it was.

  "I do like that about you, my dear." A slow smile appeared on his face. My insides quaked. "You get right down to the pertinent details."

  The hinges squeaked as he opened the lid revealing a stunning princess cut diamond surrounded by blood-red rubies which trailed down either side. Obviously custom made, its beauty was unmatched. I gasped, my eyes wide as I focused on breathing.

  As expected I held out my left hand, fingers splayed, and he slipped the sparkling jewel onto my trembling ring finger. The heavy weight was a shackle, handcuffing me to him. I swallowed the saliva that pooled in my mouth, but my bright smile never dimmed.

  "The time-table for Revelation has moved up."

  I leaned back on the chaise, blinking in shock. I struggled to keep up with the sudden shift in topic.

  "It's scheduled for about a year from now."

  A year? That was quite an alteration.

  But what did that have to do with his proposal?

  "Why the sudden agreement to move it?" I asked instead.

  Alejandro had protested the fact that the Old Ones were dragging their feet on the topic for years. They had finally agreed to a planned reveal, but it wasn't for almost a decade.

  Alejandro dragged his fingers through his hair, irritation drawing his brows low. "There are groups plotting to expose us, factions tired of the way things are, the hierarchy. Despite my predictions of these exact type of events, the Old Ones sat on their hands and did nothing."

  His anger forced him to his feet, and he paced, back and forth across his office. My eyes traced his movements. It was like watching a caged tiger.

  "They thought they could continue to simply respond to threats, to react instead of act. A preemptive strike was deemed too unpredictable." He scoffed. "It may be unpredictable, but it's better than the bedlam an uncontrolled exposure would be. Think of the chaos that would result."

  I shuddered. Humans didn't like the unexplained, preferring to have everything fit in neat boxes with tidy labels. Revealing that creatures of myth were under their noses all this time, that magic and supernatural abilities were real, would cause chaos and outrage. The result could be out of control and deadly. That's why a carefully controlled reveal was essential.

  Dread sucker-punched me as the words fell from his lips. Each sentence caused my world to shrink until it was pressing in on me, a tight band around my chest.

  "Technology advances daily. It is only a matter of time before we are exposed. There are only so many cover-ups we are capable of before they become too obvious, only so many pockets we can line. It is time. I'd wish for it sooner, but the Old Ones move with a pace comparable to that of a snail."

  "A snail's pace," I said without thinking.

  "What dear?" His focus swung back to me, eyes narrowed at my correction.

  "The phrase you're looking for is at a snail's pace." I had already corrected him. I knew not to make it worse by mumbling or back tracking.

  "Yes. Of course." He frowned, but continued on his rant. I could have collapsed with relief, but stayed poised on the chaise.

  "In the chaos we will need a leader and I intend to be that leader. The public is already fascinated with me. With us." I caught his calculated smile as he resumed his pacing. "If we are married now, before Revelation, and allow their adoration to continue, we can cultivate their trust. Use it to our advantage. When we reveal that we are vampires we can
naturally move in to help calm—"

  "Wait. What?" I couldn't stop my interruption if I tried. My heart stopped, shock caused my carefully constructed facade of calm to slip from my face.

  "Yes, my dear?" Even my interruption didn't dim the excitement gleaming in his eyes. My stomach flipped, nausea rolled through me. I clenched my hands together to hide their shaking.

  "You said we—we are vampires." I held my breath as a spark of confusion appeared in the depths of his eyes.

  "Yes. You'll be turned before we are married."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The media frenzy was unbelievable. Paparazzi followed us everywhere. Microphones and cameras were shoved in my face at every opportunity. Their questions—all shouted—tumbled over one another until the resulting cacophony resembled the loud buzzing of bees swarming around their hive. The flash of their cameras caused multicolored spots to dance in front of my eyes.

  Alejandro made the public statements that I avoided, his voice crisp and clear. His gaze, whenever directed at me, was warm—loving even. I watched the lies dance on his skin. The scarlet, gold, and russet runes danced and crawled every time he was in front of a camera.

  The media ate it up.

  My heart was a dead thing, it just didn't know enough to stop beating.

  But according to Alejandro it would soon enough.

  Wedding preparations went swiftly. When you had billions of dollars and a brilliant air fey at your beck and call, nothing was impossible. Vasilka was a force to be reckoned with and, like everything, I had little say.

  Flowers ordered? Check.

  Venue reserved? Check.

  Stunning custom bridal gown? Check.

  All that was left to check off the list was killing me so I could be reborn in his image. And that was happening sooner than I ever imagined.

  "Alejandro?" The word was loud in the stillness of his bedroom. We lay tangled in his sheets and each other. Our wedding a little more than two weeks away, a ticking deadline always present in the back of my mind.

  "Hmmm?" His chest rumbled beneath my ear, the sound louder with the absence of a heartbeat.

  "Why are you willing to take the risk now?" The burning question needed an answer. It had eaten away at my sleep for days. As the wedding crept closer and closer, I finally found the voice to ask it aloud.

  "Risk?" The fact that he had to ask told me more than I wanted.

  "The whole take-my-blood-and-lose-my-power-forever thing."

  "Or cause you to be more powerful than ever." He would be fixated on that part of the warning.

  My heart beat fast enough to pump blood through both our bodies. I said nothing, waiting for an actual answer.

  "I've had people on this for a while pouring over research, old books, and papers in tombs and libraries all throughout Europe. The few documents they've located all point to the warnings as a myth. There was not a single documented case of anyone with your particular talent losing their power after a blood tribute.

  "What about their power growing out of control?"

  He hesitated. The pause was merely a second, but it might as well have been longer. "One. One such case."

  "What happened?" I swallowed thickly. The answer couldn't be good.

  "She went mad and killed herself." His words, delivered in his calm accented tone, sent my head spinning.

  I held my bottom lip prisoner between my teeth, barely holding back my gasp.

  "It's a calculated risk. One I'm willing to take. One that I've considered and weighed at length." He patted my hand. The gesture was meant to be soothing. It was anything but.

  The last shred of hope I harbored crumbled. My heart ached. The pain stole my breath.

  He was willing to take that risk—risk my sanity, my life—and turn me into the creature he was without even discussing it with me. Would he have told me any of this if I hadn't asked? I already knew the answer.

  "When?" I choked through the words. He didn't notice my struggle, lost in his own plans.

  "Tomorrow."

  My eyes widened in shock. Tomorrow? I swallowed the tears, the protests, the begging I knew would get me nowhere. The taste was bitter. Old.

  "You'll need about a week and a half to recover for the wedding," he tossed to me, like it was no big deal. A week and a half to recover.

  When was he going to discuss all this with me? A few moments before the change?

  Fully awake, my eyes darted around the room. Searching, as if the solution to the predicament I'd thrown myself into would appear on the walls, like the lies that danced only for me.

  Nothing. There was nothing.

  Tonight was my last night as a human. The last night I'd feel the need to fill my lungs with air. The last night I'd hear the drumbeat of my heart. Tomorrow night I'd be an empty husk, a remnant of myself. A monster.

  Would I go through with it? Accept the sentence handed down without a fight. Go softly into that sweet night, as Dylan Thomas wrote.

  I'd live forever, a dead thing, in the life of luxury and decadence. I'd never want for anything. Except my humanity. Except love.

  Would I still love?

  Zak's easy smile flashed through my mind. I'd never see him again, never feel his fingers on my skin. I wouldn't allow myself to risk his life like that. Who knew what the monster I'd become would do to him, would be tempted to do? I didn't want to know.

  My frantic eyes slowed as they landed on the ice bucket resting on the nightstand. I breathed in and out, forcing the breaths to come slow and steady. I reined in my frantic thoughts.

  I wasn't ready to give him up.

  Strength flowed through my veins. Resolve made me steady.

  I wasn't ready to give me up.

  ***

  The chaos of wedding preparations and the dogged paparazzi kept me from contacting Zak. With Alejandro's notoriety, we were the it couple of the moment. The constant media buzz left no doubt that Zak knew. I wanted to talk to him, to explain, but I had no way to reach him since Alejandro had never replaced my broken phone. I suspected he hesitated on purpose.

  Since announcing our engagement, Alejandro was everywhere. Every time I turned my head he was by my side, playing the devoted fiancé. There was no chance of sneaking off, of making a private phone call, nothing.

  I had no way to reach Kyra or Spencer.

  I was alone. Truly alone. Drifting down a river that was leading where I had no intention of going. No paddle or propeller to aid my trek to the shore.

  Untangling myself from the sheets I stretched to reach my glass on the nightstand. I chiseled a fistful of ice from the bucket, scooping it into the glass.

  "Pour me another brandy, dear."

  Dear.

  I clenched the glass tightly in my hand, my knuckles white.

  Dear. It grated on my already frayed nerves. I hated his term of endearment for me. Dear. Deer. A flighty, malleable prey.

  And I was neither.

  I stabbed the ice with more force than necessary. Tiny chips escaped and flew through the air; small crystals caught the light from the windows. They twinkled like stars before they fell to the table and instantly dissolved into puddles.

  I scooped ice into his glass and poured the amber liquid into both.

  We drank in silence, the only sound the clinking of the ice in our glasses. The burn of the expensive brandy was welcomed, warming.

  I was thawing. The ice that encased my body, my mind for so long, was melting like the shards of ice. My decision—instead of weighing me down—had lightened my load. I no longer felt the inevitability of despair.

  One way or another, it would all end soon.

  Alejandro settled his empty glass on his nightstand, and slipped back into the cradle of the bed, lifting his arm expectantly. I slid into his embrace as requested, my skin crawling.

  And I waited.

  My eyes traced the shifting patterns of light on the ceiling as the time crept by.

  The sky began to lighten, the first ray
s of the dawn just peeking over the horizon when I knew my wait was over.

  It was hard to tell when a vampire was asleep. They don't need to breathe, and their hearts don't beat. But after four years of sleeping with a vampire, I knew. There was something different in his face. The muscles were more relaxed, features were softer, almost gentle.

  Without a doubt I knew this was the last time I'd ever see him like this. I indulged in the moment, in his beauty. This man that I almost loved once upon a time.

  Before.

  My heartbeat thundered in my ears. The sound kept my attention focused on my task. Eyes riveted to his unmoving body, I reached behind me onto the nightstand. Floundering, my fingers found and gripped the smooth Ash handle, the wood comforting in my grasp. Between one breath and the next, without hesitation or pause, I brought the ice pick down with all my strength. The sharp tip slid smoothly between his ribs, impaling his heart.

  His eyes sprung open. Pain clouded his eyes. The brown irises were so dark they appeared black. His face was stiff with agony, deep furrows creased the skin.

  The coppery scent of his blood filled my senses, choking me. Red stained the sheets as his blood poured from the hole in his chest. A macabre painting that captured the moment in time. The moment I claimed my freedom.

  He stared at the ice pick that protruded from his chest, buried to the hilt where the Ash handle began. His eyes, wide with disbelief, met mine.

  Pain filled my own chest as I swallowed the nausea that threatened.

  What had I done?

  "Why?" He coughed, choking on the blood that bubbled from his throat. His teeth stained red with his own blood.

  Daniel's face filled my vision. The sound his body made as it impacted the floor reverberated in my mind. It renewed my anger, gave it strength.

  "Why?" My voice was hoarse, as I choked out the words. "Daniel for starters—just for starters." My chest heaved. The anger robbed me of my words and stole my breath.

  He clutched the handle and struggled to pull the ice pick from his chest. It didn't budge. He was too weak. He clawed at it. The noises that came from his mouth were more animal than human.

  I crawled off the bed, my eyes never leaving him. Heart pounding, I dragged random clothes from the drawers afraid that he'd free himself the moment I stopped watching.