The Forsaken

“You’re not denying the rest of the statement.”

 

 

I bit my upper lip, sucking it in. “What do you want me to say?” I whispered. “I can’t pretend my situation away.” I hated feeling like I was waiting death out.

 

Andre ran a hand through his hair. “You should’ve told me. All of this.” He reached out and stroked my face. “My God, soulmate, I don’t want you to shut me out. That’s the last thing.”

 

I glanced back at the window, feeling far, far older than seventeen. “I’m sorry.” Not that I had any intention of giving up the rest of my secrets.

 

“I don’t want your apologies, I want your faith. I’m losing you—and not even to the devil. I’m losing you to your own demons.”

 

A traitorous tear snaked out of my eye. I was a big fucking mess.

 

His gaze latched onto the tear. “No,” he said, his eyes flashing. “You made me a promise,” his voice shook; I realized it was because he was scared. Absolutely petrified, “you wouldn’t give up on me. You’d continue to fight.”

 

“What do you think I’m doing here? I haven’t broken that promise.”

 

 

 

Andre growled and ran a hand through his hair. “It infuriates me that you can be so reasonable about this. Ay, dios mio, I need to hurt someone.”

 

“Andre?”

 

His stormy eyes met mine.

 

“I could really use a hug right now.”

 

He exhaled, and then I was enveloped in his embrace, my body squished against his hard chest. I could feel his agitation drain away as he held me. I held tightly to him, like I might drift away if I let him go.

 

“I’m frightened,” I admitted. Here in Andre’s arms, I didn’t have to pretend to be tough.

 

His words were barely a breath on the breeze. “So am I, love. So am I.”

 

 

Only once I was safely back inside Bishopcourt did Andre relax. As we moved through his estate, he kept me close—a hand at the small of my back, an arm slung around my waist, fingers threaded through mine.

 

Finally Andre simply picked me up, wrapped my legs around his waist, and carried me to his bedroom.

 

This position was one of the few times where I was able to stare down at him. “Sleepy?” I asked, watching those smoldering eyes of his.

 

He grinned up at me. “Are you ever not irreverent?” He was in a better mood.

 

I smirked back at him. “It’s part of my charm.” I was also feeling a bit perkier.

 

 

 

He kicked the door closed behind us, and all traces of humor were gone from his face.

 

“I need you,” he said simply.

 

I’d like to say that lines like that didn’t do me in. But I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t work.

 

The last of the panic that had consumed him since he found me outside Jericho’s Emporium only subsided once nothing separated us.

 

He moved against me, holding me close, his lips skimming my neck. He breathed me in, and I heard him shudder. He had to smell the death clinging to me.

 

Andre leaned his head against mine. “It’s you and me, soulmate. Always.” His fingers slid between mine, and I squeezed his hands, afraid he’d slip through mine if I didn’t hold on firmly enough.

 

I fought down the lump in my throat. I wouldn’t be sad. Not now.

 

We were together. We were meant to be. My fate and his didn’t matter. I could be a world away from him, and I’d still love him. Nothing would change that. Not death. Not the devil. Nothing.

 

Our lips crashed together anew, and we finished what we started with all the franticness of two lovers who knew their time was coming to a close.

 

 

I lifted my head from the pillow. “Where’s my T-shirt?”

 

Andre raised an eyebrow. He looked like a cat that had lapped up all the cream.

 

I reached out and traced his lazy features, awed that I could make anyone look that way. “You told me that I’d know when I’d ‘done that and gotten the T-shirt.’ So now I’m wondering where my shirt is.”

 

 

 

Andre’s brow furrowed for a moment as he stared at me. Then he threw his head back and let out a surprised laugh. When he caught his breath he said, “You mean to tell me a ring wasn’t enough?”

 

“Not nearly. I’m planning on bleeding your bank account dry.”

 

At that, Andre laughed again. “That will take some time—especially if you plan on draining my funds via T-shirts. But the lady will get what the lady wants.”

 

After a pause he added, “I believe this is what you call being ‘whipped.’”

 

I gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Punk.”

 

Flashing a wicked smile, he rolled back on top of me, and kissed me thoroughly, his muscles bunching and releasing with the movement, and another hour was given up to complete and utter bliss.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26

 

 

 

Two days left.

 

My eyes snapped open and stared at the ceiling. Not even two full days. Tomorrow evening he’d come for me. My hands twisted the sheets beneath me. I could taste my own fear at the back of my throat; I was practically choking on it.

 

What a way to wake up.

 

I drew in a deep breath. My chest tightened, and I began to cough. The action shook my entire body, and my heart fluttered arrhythmically before quickly righting itself.

 

That … couldn’t be good.

 

A hand rested on my exposed back. “Soulmate?”

 

Andre’s naked body leaned over mine, and I realized we’d fallen asleep together this way. A blush should’ve spread across my face, … but my alabaster skin stayed eerily pale.

 

 

 

“Are you okay, love?” Andre’s voice was so gentle.

 

I nodded even as I continued to cough.

 

A vertical line bisected his brow. He threw the covers off, his form blurring. The door opened and slammed shut.

 

No more than five seconds later, he’d returned with a glass of water and a blood bag. He’d even managed to get a pair of pants on.

 

I sat up, taking the items from him as he handed them over. I took a sip of water, the liquid soothing the raw skin of my throat.

 

The blood bag would have to wait; I couldn’t possibly drink it right now. Maybe later.

 

Two days.

 

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