Lies in Blood (76 page)

I swore then, that no matter what he did next to make me suffer, I would never stoop to that level again, never say anything I knew would kill him inside. He wasn’t the monster anymore.
I
was.

And that was all I needed to move my feet. I darted after him, blocking his path on the narrow stairwell, both my arms reaching across to either side of the railing. “Stop.”

“
Ara, get out of my way.”

“
No. You need to listen.”

“
Nothing you have to say is of any consequence to me. You wanted me to leave you alone, never talk to you again, well . . . you got your wish.”

“
That’s not what I want, David. I was angry. And I’m so sorry for what I said about Pepper.”

His glassy green eyes softened a little then as he saw the truth deep inside me. “That will never suffice, Ara. You knew,
before
you said that, the extent of the damage it would do. So don’t try to take it back now.”

I crossed my hands over my heart, guilt eating it up until I couldn’t feel it beat anymore.

“
Now, get out of my way before I do something to hurt you,” he added.

“
I’m not afraid of you, David. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“
Then you know nothing about me.”

“
Really?” I faced him as he pushed past. “I know you’re ashamed of what you did to Emily.”

The vampire in him surfaced, stopping him in his tracks, changing the way he held himself. “I’m not ashamed, Ara.”

“
I think you are.”

He turned slowly and walked back up the stairs, stopping on the one just above me.

“
Just tell me why you never talked about it with me, David—why, even after I
asked
you, you lied.”

“
Our marriage is over. You deserve no explanation from me.”

“
Yes, I do.”

“
No.” He went to walk past again. “You don’t.”

I grabbed his arm. “I do, David, because, despite what I’ve done wrong, I married you. We shared a life together and I am the mother of your child. You do owe me an explanation.”

“
Get away from me,” he yelled. “There’s nothing to explain.”

I blocked his path again. “I’m not going anywhere until you answer me.”

He frowned at me, a little surprised. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

I shook my head.

“
Fine.” He leaned on the wall and folded his arms. “I didn’t tell you because, when we first met, you and Emily were already friends, and I never planned to be with you past the summer. When that changed, it was too late to tell you.”

“
Why?”

“
Because you’d have gone crazy, Ara. You’d never have trusted me after that.”

“
Of course I would have, David. I would’ve trusted you
more
knowing you would always tell me the truth—even if I didn't like it.”

“
That’s bull crap, Ara. You would’ve hated me—left me.”

“
Are you kidding?” I jerked forward. “David, you know me! Look at me. Look at who I am inside,” I said, tapping my chest. “Even if you’d slept with her while we were
together
, you know I’d have found it in my heart to forgive you.”

“
Huh!” he scoffed, looking away.

“
David.” I touched his wrist and he looked back at me. “You know that.”

His folded arms dropped slowly to his sides. He couldn’t deny the truth in that statement. “You’re right. I should've told you. I’m sorry.”

Those words moved in through my ears and made everything in me feel warm and kind of renewed, taking the anger and diluting it until it was nothing. “I forgive you, you know.”

“
You what?”

“
I know you don’t need my forgiveness, but . . . you and Em, it’s in the past, David, and—”

“
Ara.” He stopped me. “Don’t say that until you know the full story.”

I shook my head. “When I decided to be with you, I accepted you then for everything you were and had been in your past. Good or bad. I can’t take that back now just because I find out that you’ve done something you’re not proud of. You didn’t rape her. You might not have been what she wanted her first to be, but I know you’re good inside, David, and—”

“
That’s just it, Ara. I’m not.”

My mouth stayed open, still shaped to my last word.

“
She cried,” he started, shifting awkwardly to a new position. “She said it hurt, and I just rolled her over and told her to shut up—hid her face because I didn’t wanna see her tears.”

And with his words came images, ones I made up in my own mind. “Did she ask you to stop?”

He shook his head. “I told her the pain was normal for the first time. But it wasn’t. If I’d been gentle . . . if I’d. . .” He folded the back of his hand to his mouth.

“
If you’d been like you were with me.”

A quick memory lit his thoughts up—of he and I in my room—our first time, and he smiled, shaking his head until a frown came over like a grey cloud. “I hurt her, and I made her feel ashamed of herself, made her feel like she was worth nothing to anyone. And, the worst part was, Ara, I just didn’t care.”

“
But you had no human compassion.”

“
No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t. Which made being friends with her after the compassion set in
really
hard. So hard I . . . I just wanted to forget it happened.”

“
Funny, I’d kinda like to forget it, too.” I rubbed my head as if I could erase the last hour of my life.

David laughed. It was so nice to hear that laugh again. “Perhaps we can all just move past it, then.”

I lowered my hand to my side and nodded up at the king. “I’m not sure Mike will feel the same way.”

Reality moved back in to this vortex we’d stepped in then, and everything crappy my life had become in the last week surfaced again. David breathed out through his nose, accepting that fact and many others that had changed his life lately, too. “I have to go.”

“
David, wait.” I went to grab him, but he tugged away.

“
Just don’t, Ara. You know about Emily now, and it’s very kind of you to say you forgive me, but…” He shook his head. “Nothing has changed. I still hate you. I—”

“
Well, I need to discuss something else with you.”

“
Then it had better be some royal matter.”

“
It is a royal matter.”

“
Then make it quick.”

“
It’s about the king and queen.”

His eyes were on something other than me, but I caught the slightest glimpse of a half smile as he shook his head. “Very well. What is it?”

“I just wanted you to know that . . . Jason asked me to marry him.”

“
Wondered how long that would take.” He huffed, clearly not surprised.

I let silence own the moment for a second, waiting to see if he’d ask what my response was.

“
I don’t need to ask, Ara,” he said, stealing that thought. “You’re not wearing a ring. Clearly, you declined.”

“
For now,” I said, leaving it at that.

“And what’s
that
supposed to mean?”

I toyed nervously with the key on my necklace. “It means that . . . one day, I’ll probably say yes.”

“
One day, huh?” He folded his arms again.

“If he keeps asking, and I’m still single . . . yeah.”

“
Is this some kind of prompt to force me into begging you to—”

“
No, David, it’s not.” I raised a hand to shut him up. “I just didn’t want you to hear it along the grapevine.”

“
Then consider me informed.” He bowed, turning away.

“
So, you don’t care if I marry him?” I called.

He stopped at the base of the stairs, eyeing a man in his peripheral until he passed out of sight. “Frankly, I have no opinion. I never could stop you from doing
stupid
things.”

“
Why would it be stupid?” I walked a few steps downward. “If he loves me and I love him, why—”

“
You’re right,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Guess it makes perfect sense. I hope you’re both happy.”

“
That’s not what I want you to say, you know?”

“
Then, what, Ara?” He turned back to face me. “Whadda you want me to say?”

“
I want you to tell me not to. I want you tell me that you still love me enough that, one day, even years from now, you might forgive me for what I did.”

He just laughed. “That will never happen.”

“
Why not? You forgave Arietta when she betrayed
her
husband—with your
uncle
.”

I could see his eyes narrow as he calculated a response. But what could he say to that? “Well, Arietta wasn’t my wife. Had she been, she would have suffered the same fate Victor served.”

“
You don’t mean that,” I called, running after him. “David, please tell me you don’t mean that.”

“
Ara, just back off!” He shoved my hand off his arm. “You’ve put me in a corner here. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t leave me the hell alone, I cannot be held responsible for what I might do to you.”

“
So you are angry then?” I refused to step back, despite his body language warning me to move. “About the proposal?”

“
God, when are you going learn, Ara?” He pushed past and headed back up the stairs.

I followed. “I’m not leaving you alone until I get some kind of communication breakthrough with you, David. You can’t just shut down and refuse to discuss things.”

“
And which scroll states that law?” he asked, walking away almost faster than I could keep up.

“
Not everything is about the law. Maybe it’s just wrong to end a marriage and never give the other person a chance to have their say.”

“
Why should I, Ara?” He spun back, barring me with his cold stare. “You talk things through with someone when you want peace, want to sort things out. But I don’t care what you have to say. Nothing will ever make me
want
to forgive you. Nothing will ever make what you did okay, not on any level. We can never be friends again, Ara. We can never even be in the same room without me wanting to strangle you.”

“
That’s not how you really feel.” I moved between him and the path to his room. “You want to break me down emotionally, but you won’t put your hands on me.”

“
If you know that, Ara, if you’re so sure of that, then why keep pushing me?” He tried to move past me again but I blocked him. “Why torture me by giving me no way out of this conversation?”

“
Because there’s no other way I can make you talk.”

“
Why would you want that? Why would you want to talk when you know how much I hate you?”

“
Because I’m hoping I can change your mind—hoping the David I love is still in there and that you’ll see I’m still the girl you love, that I just made a mistake.”

“
That will not ever happen, Ara,” he said stiffly, and for the first time, something about the way he said that made me truly believe him.

“
So, that’s just it, then?”

“
Yes,” he said, his shoulders dropping with relief. “So just leave me alone and let me get on with my life, okay?”

“
Fine,” I said, and watched him disappear into his bedroom, wishing I’d never come up here to talk with him. That brief moment where we spoke as equals would forever be the little piece of hope I held onto that prevented me from truly moving on. I knew that. We’d survived torture, separation, immortality and heartbreak, but I was beginning to think maybe it was time for me to admit that we couldn’t survive the damage done deeper than skin—leaving the heart scarred and unidentifiable as what it once was.