Betrayal (The Forever Series) (14 page)

“I’ll carry you upstairs to bed,” CK says.

“No, I want to sleep here,” I say. I am settled and comfortable and I don’t feel like being jostled. The pain isn’t subsiding at all and that is also a worry. But one for another time.

“Blood first,” he says, “then sleep.”

“Okay,” I say and he disappears and returns shortly with a glass. I furrow my brow at him and then the glass. “Feeder,” I say insolently.

“Oh no,” he says as he sits and hands it to me. “Get yourself used to it again, my sweet. You remember what happened last time.”

“It’s only been three months,” I sulk at him. Last time I had been starved of human blood for over a decade. “You went three months and you were fine,” I remind him. His eyes freeze over and Cole looks up interestedly. Oops, I guess he didn’t want me telling anyone about his punishing starvation hiatus.

“I had not been mauled to near death by a poisonous beast,” he says, grinding his teeth.

Whatever, I am not arguing about it. I snatch the glass off him like a sullen child and drink up like a good girl. He smiles at me indulgently and I return it before I close my eyes. Cole kisses my hand as does CK and I am left alone to nap.

I shiver as I get up a few hours later. It is getting chilly and this blanket is not cutting it anymore. Must try and remember to go to the store and buy some proper English weather duvets and blankets. I hobble into the library and close the doors. I am still alone and I enjoy the peace for a few minutes as I sit in my chair and spin to stare out of the window. I feel the pop behind me and hunch my shoulders in response. Whichever one it is, I don’t have the oomph to deal with either of them. Nevertheless, I spin around in my chair and come face to face with Other Liv as she sits and props her Louboutins up on my desk.

“Whoa, you look a mess,” she says by way of a greeting.

“Gee, thanks,” I say, bringing my hand up to smooth my hair.

“No, seriously,” she says, putting her feet back on the floor and leaning forward with a curious look. “What in Hell happened to you?”

Well she is not one to mince words. I admit I haven’t looked in a mirror since I woke up. Not even in the bathroom. CK had turned me away from it and I never even thought to look. Oh god! I think now as I bring my hand up to my face, what in Hell
do
I look like?

Liv shakes her head at me and with a faux sympathetic smile says, “It’s not good, sweetie.”

“What do you want?” I ask now, needing her to leave so I can go and look at myself.

“I’ll get to that in a minute,” she says still peering at me. “I want to know what happened to you.” She tilts her head and looks closer at my neck. I put my hand up to cover the bite and she raises her eyebrow at me. It is really annoying. I know I do it and seeing it on her face, that looks exactly like mine, I decide to try and give up the habit.

“Remiel is what happened to me,” I say shortly, seeing no reason to not tell her.

“Come again?” she says, confused. “You let him bite you?”

“Hm, ‘let’ is not how I would put it,” I say wryly. “And by the way, I knew you knew more than what you told me about him!” I accuse her.

She shrugs, unconcerned by my accusation.

“Why didn’t you tell me everything?” I ask her.

“I am certain that what happened over in my World is not what would have happened here, regardless of what I told you,” she says. CK had just said the same thing. “I gave you the information you asked for.”

I think about that and realize she is completely right. I asked her how to get rid of him and she told me how. She obviously hasn’t got rid of him in her World. That I can see now plain as day. I had wondered about her choice of words when discussing him at the time and now it all completely makes sense. “Okay, fair enough,” I admit. “Tell me now though, what happened over on your side?”

She settles back in the chair and once again props her feet up on my desk. She sees no harm in telling me now that events have occurred here. “Well, for starters, I didn’t let him bite me,” she sneers and I growl at her.

She snickers at me and continues. “I had avoided him for quite a while, I knew what he wanted from me and I wasn’t prepared to give it to him so he could live. Mother obviously killed him for a reason, right?”

I am about to answer her when she carries on.
Rhetorical then.

“Anyway, as Mother lay on
Her deathbed She asked me to give him what he wanted. He needed my blood and She wanted me to give it to him. She was full of sorrow over what She did to him and Her last dying wish was that he be fixed.”

“How did
She die?” I ask.

“That is what you find more important right now?” she asks me.

I shrug and say, “Seems significant under the circumstances.”

“Hm, well that is a story for another time,” she says. Christ, this woman is about as unforthcoming as CK, only giving you precisely what you asked for. Bitch. Smart, but a bitch nonetheless. I know I give far too much away. Another thing I should try to curb in the future.

“Sooo,” she drawls, bringing my attention back to her, “I went to him and told him I would give it to him, but no way was he getting those ancient fangs anywhere near me. I drained myself to near death, well,” she snorts, “as it were, and gave it to him. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted it, but tough shit I say. Be grateful for what you get, yes?”

I nod in agreement and wonder why I never came up with this plan? Oh yeah, because I was trying not to give him what he wanted because I didn’t want him to live. “I see,” I say. “Well, that would certainly have been preferable.”

“No kidding,” she says. “So I told you mine, now you tell me yours.”

“I didn’t want to give him what he wanted and was doing a good job of avoiding him, until I was betrayed,” I say quietly, then curse myself for revealing that piece of information to her.

Her ears perk up and I curse myself even more. “Betrayed?” she asks. “By who?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Point is, I got lured into a trap, so to speak, and then he got me in his claws and I was pretty much toast from that point on.”

“Hm,” she says, annoyed that I won’t reveal my traitor. Probably more interested so she can keep an eye on her own for any traitorous behavior than out of concern for me. “Did it hurt?” she asks wickedly.

“Obviously,” I say, indicating the bites and ignoring her tone.

“Well, you look like Hell. I suggest you get healed up and back on the job. Factions, you know. They are always on the lookout for weakness.” She imparts this piece of “wisdom” matter-of-factly.

“If I knew how to heal I would,” I say to her as if she is stupid. She looks back at me like I am and shakes her head.

“God, you know nothing, do you? Where are all of your people?”

“People?”
I ask, a bit slow on the uptake after all this chitchat.

“Yeah, your people.
Your advisors and Witches and healers,” she says.

“Huh?” I ask, now thoroughly out of the loop, once again.

“Fucks sakes,” she mutters. “You seriously need to get your head in the game, sister.”

“I have Corinne,” I say defensively.

“Good, at least you have something. However, you need to man up your troops,” she says with all the authority of a five-star general.

“I am not at war,” I say petulantly.

“No, you are just a weak-assed fool that gets taken advantage of. Trust me, I have been doing this job for far longer than you have. And clearly better,” she adds. “How long ago did he bite you?”

“Three months ago,” I say and stop her dead in her tracks. I steady myself for the lecture that is about to ensue, but she just stares at me, almost in pity.

“Three months? And you haven’t healed?”

I decide to reveal all as she seems to think she has vast knowledge and who knows? Maybe she can help. “I woke up from a three-month coma yesterday,” I say.

“Coma?” she repeats in disbelief. “Shit!” she exclaims, sitting back in the chair again. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” I say, knowing firsthand how surprised she is.

“Well, let this be a lesson to you,” she says, having regained her superior attitude. “People,” she emphasizes with a prod to my desk.

Gee, I should have known better than to expect anything more from her. I am really worn out now and I just want her to go. “Enough about me, why are you here?”

“Oh yes,” she says as if she had forgotten her purpose. She pulls out a cream envelope and holds it up between her middle and index fingers. “I apparently have ‘errand girl’ stamped on my forehead today.”

“Who is it from?” I ask, my stomach already tying itself into a series of small knots.

“Three guesses,” she says and does not look very happy about it.

“Look, Liv, I don’t want that. I don’t want to know what is in it,” I say, holding my hand up.

“You should read it. It is quite informative,” she says casually, but I see the flash in her eyes.

“You read it?” I ask, only somewhat surprised that she would be so rude.

“Of course,” she scoffs at me. “You don’t really think I would come all of this way with a letter from
my
Fraser to you without having knowledge of its contents, do you?”

I guess not.

“Why on Earth would you bring me that?” I ask her.

“
Quid pro quo
. And he wanted you to read it,” she says quietly. “In fact, he thought you would come to see him after he offered you what you wanted. I guess, at least, I can go home and tell him that you were in a coma for three months and that it had nothing to do with you not wanting to see him.”

“I don’t want to see him,” I insist. “I never want to see him again. And I don’t want that letter.”

“Ah, the lady doth protest too much, methinks,” she quotes Shakespeare to me and I cringe. She throws the letter onto my desk and it lands with a soft thump in front of me. I wring my hands to keep them from reaching for it and then place them firmly in my lap and regard her.

“I don’t understand why you would bring it,” I say haughtily. “I mean, don’t you care that he is making offers and writing letters to me?”

“What he wants with you is his own business,” she says brusquely. “I don’t interfere in his obsessions. Well, not anymore,” she adds with a sad look.

“Liv,” I say to her, wanting to say more but I have no words. She adjusts her face to its usual lack of emotion and shrugs.

“Read it, don’t read it. I don’t really care,” she says. “I delivered it so my part in this is over.” She stands abruptly and puts her hands on her leather-clad hips. “Marigolds,” she says.

“I beg your pardon?” I ask. Is that supposed to mean something to me?

“Use blood-soaked marigolds on your wounds. It will draw out the poison and heal you,” she advises.

“Marigolds?
That seems far too simple. How come no one thought of that already?” I ask her even though she won’t have any idea.

“Not just marigolds, blood-soaked marigolds. Use your sire’s, it will be most effective,” and with that said she disappears from my view.

Never in a million years will I understand that woman. I sigh and pick up the letter she delivered. I want to rip it up and burn it, but some stupid, idiotic part of me carefully opens the envelope and pulls out the heavy, gold-embossed, cream paper and starts to read.

Sweet Liv,

I have thought of nothing and nobody, except you, since I came to see you. You are the sweetest perfection, everything that I want to take and cherish and yet ravage with this raging lust that is burning inside me, for you.
Only you. You consume my thoughts to the point where no one else matters. I want to feel your silky skin as I caress you, and I want to feel your soft lips against mine as I kiss you. I want to see, in your enchanting green eyes, how much pleasure I give you as I make love to you gently, before I turn you around and take out my depravities on you.

You are a constant source of confusion for me, a mix of paradoxes that makes my senses react in a way with which I have grown unfamiliar. You make my heart beat again after being still for so many years. You make my head ache with thoughts of you naked by candlelight, beads of hardened wax clinging to your body like drops of blood. Oh, I want to taste you, I want to drink from you, before you do the same to me.

The need to see and feel and know all of this about you is driving me wild. We had but a few moments, but in those moments I knew you. I want to see you again. I need to see you again, Liv. Come to me. Come to me and I will be everything you want me to be and more. Come to me and you will love me, as I love you. Love. A word I have not used and meant in decades. Love. Something so foreign to me and yet you bring it out with your hesitation of me. I know you wanted to touch me, I saw it in your eyes. I wanted you to touch me, to kiss me, to lose your indecision and reluctance because I am not your true love. But I can be. I will be. Come to me my sweet, sweet Other. I will be everything you need and you, in return, will be the sire I have always wanted and needed.