Tainted Legacy (YA Paranormal Romance) (23 page)

And he was
not
okay.

Ava
did not need to know that.

At the thought of her, his heart did it again. That odd, swirly, slamming around in his chest thing. He faintly hoped it wasn’t about to implode or some other nasty nonsense.

He had been following random roads, each one smaller and more forsaken than the last. He saw what looked like barely more than a trail through the woods and turned off, following it. Convinced the road would lead to nowhere, suspiciously like his life, he pulled to the side and cut the engine as soon as he was out of sight of anyone who may pass by.

He stuffed all of his trash back into the bags and then reclined in his seat.

His head still throbbed but he was fairly certain that was the residual effect of nothing more than stress. Stress induced by his own stupidity and lack of caution. Ava had crept up on him. The way he felt about her? It had crept up on him.

He should have been more vigilant. This was absolutely no good, a disaster waiting to happen. His father wanted something from Ava. When his father wanted something from someone, that someone was always left with nothing.

What could she have that would possibly be of interest?

It was the question he continually asked himself.

It was the question he could not fathom an answer to.

Gabe thought back through all of the conversations that concerned her. As a precaution, or possibly just because he enjoyed wielding control, his father was typically tight lipped about his endeavors until he was ready to strike. Gabe decided that time had not come yet because he could not think of a single comment, not one word that hinted as to what his father had in store for her.

The thought of anything wicked befalling her made his whole body prickle painfully with…

With what
? he wondered as yet another unknown sensation consumed him.

“What is wrong with me today!?” he growled to his empty car.

His phone rang just then.

He reached for it, confirming it was her.

Instead of answering, he just stared at it, wondering if he
should
answer it. He didn’t know what to say, not without knowing what Grier had said.

Maybe Ava was calling to tell him she finally realized what a freak he was. Or simply to say that after what happened today she never wanted to see him again.

He felt a burst of panic at that. Not only because there would be hell to pay with his father but because…because…

“Because
what
?” he asked himself, then cursed out loud when he couldn’t come up with the answer.

The phone had stopped ringing. He waited anxiously for the signal that announced that a message had been left. Better to have a head’s up for the next time they spoke. He waited only moments but it felt like days. When the phone beeped, he hurriedly retrieved the voice mail.

Gabe? Hi, it’s me. Grier told me you got sick? Did you make it home okay? I’m worried about you. Please call me when you get this
. Her voice did sound concerned, not appalled.
Let me know if I can do anything to help. I could bring you soup or ginger ale or something if you’ve got the stomach flu. So, um, just give me a call so I know you’re okay.
There was a slight pause and then she tacked on,
I miss you. I hope you feel better soon
.

She was worried about him. She was really, truly worried. He could hear it in her sear" ali voice. It came through his phone, loud, clear, blanketing him in its intensity. It’s sincerity. Ava cared about him. She maybe even
more
than cared about him.

He hit the button that would replay the message.  

After the third time, he decided it should be enough.

It wasn’t.

It happened again, with more intensity this time. The swirling, swooshing, slamming, peculiar sensation as his heart jumped into an erratic beat. Maybe it
was
going to implode. Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. It would get him out of this mess he’d toppled into.

He cursed himself for not sticking to his original plan. The one where they were just friends. No, not even that.
Pretend
friends. But he had sunk himself into this mess so much deeper than that. Ava cared about him and he’d admitted to himself weeks ago that he cared about her too. What an entirely slippery concept
that
was to grasp. He had never had reason to care about anyone. But Ava? He craved being with her like an insomniac craved sleep. Every time he had his hands on her, his lips on her he felt not just a physical reaction to her but…but something
else
.

“W
hat
?” he asked, wondering if perhaps the morning’s events had permanently sizzled his brain. Not only was he not able to think clearly, he was talking to himself. And contemplating ridiculous things like how Ava made him
feel
.

“I sound like a lovesick loser,” he muttered to himself.

As his heart did its erratic
swirl-swoosh-slam
another epiphany stuck. If the one in church struck clear as a bell, this one reverberated through his car, his body, his very being with the intensity of a booming gong.

“No. Oh,
hell
no!” he declared as he dropped his phone. “I cannot be
in love
with her.”   

Caring about her was bad enough.

Loving her would be a cat soulbad enouastrophe of epic proportions.

“I don’t love her. I don’t!” he decided as he pulled his seat back into the upright position. “I
don’t. I don’t. I don’t.”

But he did.

Now that he had finally managed to decipher what that particular feeling was, a feeling that until now had been evasive and completely unknown to him, he knew with irrefutable certainty that he did.

So what was he supposed to do about it?

What
could
he do about it?

He sat there for hours trying to come to terms with this new, twisted, tangled, horrible turn of events. He couldn’t.

So he was going to change it.

He was going to stop.

People fell in love all the time. Or so he’d heard.

He had slipped in easily enough. He would just have to work on slipping back out.

How hard could it possibly be?
he wondered.

He worked on this the whole drive home as he randomly emitted a string of curse words that made Ava’s pale in comparison.

Unfortunately, he had no experience with this unfortunate affliction. He wasn’t at all sure how to go about ridding himself of it. Paradoxically, the more he tried to think about getting out of this mess, the more space Ava took up in his mind and the deeper he started to slide in.

For possibly the third time that day he muttered to himself, “I am so incredibly, unbelievably screwed,” as he parked his car in the garage.

He soon was thinking he was even more screwed than he’d first thought.

“Your presence has been requested in Father’s study. Again,” Rafe told him with a sneer. He gave Gabe a disgusted once over.

Gabe was well aware that his blood had turned an ugly rust color as it dried into the collar of his white shirt.

His father was, quite literally, the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Not that he had a choice so he went, as requested. As he fought for composure in the hallway he desperately hoped that he wasn’t wearing his love for Ava like some banner flying over his head. He felt like he was.

He knocked and entered.

To his surprise, his father stood to greet him. He rounded his desk with a smile. A quizzical expression crossed his face at the sight of the stains. “It was dreadful?” he cordially asked.

“Yes, sir, very,” Gabe agreed as he clenched his hands into fists to keep them steady.

“Then, my boy, you will be happy to hear this little project of ours is soon to come to an end.” His father was watching him closely, too closely.

He was trying not to sweat. He did not succeed. He felt a rivulet trace its way down his spine, like a teasing little finger of dread.

“Is it?” Gabe asked.

“Oh, yes,” his father slowly replied. His eyes absorbed every subtle nuance in Gabe’s countenance. “This venture will come to an end soon. It will end with the life of Ava St. Clair.”

Chapter 16

Gabe had made the mistake he was usually capable of avoiding, until recently. Now, two days in a row, he’d questioned his father. He had paid for his disobedience with indescribable torment. It was hours before he regained enough strength to peel himself off the floor of his father’s study.

This was not the first time their father had handed punishment over to Rafe to mete out. Rafe had made himself at home behind their father’s desk. He drank luxuriously from the silver flask his father had handed him.

This role had never been reversed. Gabe had never been allowed to bestow any type of punishment upon his brother. Why? Because, Gabe realized, Rafe had never disobeyed. Not once that he was aware of. He could not think of single time that his fath v+0"inbrother. Wer had felt the need to punish his brother.

But reward him? Yes.

The dark liquid stained Rafe’s lips as his father’s power flowed into him, allowing him capabilities he did not possess on his own. This in itself—the humiliation brought on by Rafe—was a punishment to Gabe as much as the torture that was to follow.

Rafe relished the power nearly as much as he relished the anguish it allowed him to bestow upon Gabe.

His father had given Rafe only one command:  Do not kill him.

For the first time in his life, Gabe realized that emotional torment could surpass the physical torment. He had haltingly admitted to himself that he had known that this request was coming. He had not wanted to believe it so he had let himself believe that his father had something else in store for her. All the time he had spent thinking about it, about her, and he had never been able to answer himself…
Why
? Why would his father want to bring harm to her? What could he gain?

It was because of that vital missing bit of information that Gabe had allowed himself to think that there was a chance for her. That his father did not really have the worst in store for her, because he couldn’t imagine what his father would benefit from her death. But now he knew. And he knew that there was nothing he could do about it.

He could not even help himself.

He could not protect himself from this man, this creature that he loathed. He never had been able to.

If he couldn’t help himself, how could he help her?