Bloody Kisses (22 page)

“Yes. You can. We’re leaving tonight.”

Edie…

She hated when he called her Edie. It made it really, really hard for her to say no to him. She didn’t know why it was so important for him to stay there. It hurt her to watch him be hurt.

“Why, Linc? You have to tell me. He’s killing you. Every day he gets a little bit closer.”

It doesn’t matter, Edie. I can’t leave.
Linc stared hard into her face. Her skin tingled, almost like goosebumps, but sharper, a little bit more painful. It made her scratch at her arms, and it made him start.

Are you okay?

She nodded. “Come on!” She grabbed his hand and pulled, but it was like moving a house. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was solid. Anchored. “Linc, please. Don’t let him kill you.”

“Edythe!”

She jumped, staring at Linc in horror. “He’s coming!” She started pulling harder, begging now, “Linc, now! Leave now!”

She heard a slam so loud it shook the basement, then her father’s heavy footsteps pounded down the steps. The lights flashed on, glaring, brighter than daylight. Lights designed to burn a person’s eyes and bore into their brain. It made her throw up a hand to shield her eyes. She lost her balance and felt Linc pull her into his side, her head resting against his elbow.

When she daydreamed, she pretended Linc was her brother. Someone to protect her and care for her. Over time, he morphed into a prince. Sometimes, when he was really irritating, he was a beast. But in every fantasy, he protected her. Now, though, with her father staring at them, his shoulders heaving and face sweating, she only wanted to protect him.

The lights began to hum, and she felt sweat roll down her back, the moisture sucked from her skin. Linc swayed, and she realized the heat and light sapped his strength.

Her father watched her, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

The words stuck in Edythe’s throat. She could hear Linc’s voice echoing through her head.
Run, run, run.
She ignored it.

“I’m taking Linc, and we’re leaving.”

Her father laughed, a bark of disbelief. “What?”

“This is wrong. You can’t experiment on a human being!”

“Edythe, you don’t understand, sweetheart. He’s not human. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s not like us. Now go upstairs, and I’ll take care of this.”

She wondered how her father could look the same as he always looked, sound the same as he always sounded, yet be so wrong. Her father was bad. Hurting Linc the way he did? There was no reason good enough for it.

“He’s a person, even if he’s not human.”

Her father stepped forward, his eyes flashing. He glared over her head at Linc before turning his back on them and moving to his worktable. She looked nervously at her friend, who kept his eyes on her father. He tried to move in front of her, but she dragged her feet. He weakened with every passing second, so he couldn’t force her to move. He stumbled, and she used the space to her advantage. With a strength that surprised her, she grabbed the bucket of salt water and swung it. It hit her father in the back, and he flew forward, his head bouncing off the wooden workbench. A red bloom appeared on the wood, dripping like a stem down the side of the bench as he fell toward the floor.

What have you done?

“Come on!” In that moment, she didn’t care about her father. He wanted to hurt Linc, and she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t know why, but she had to save him; he had to be free.

Surprisingly, after all of his arguing, he let her pull him away. He stared at her in disbelief. She ran to the steps, dragging him behind her. Her wrist screamed in pain, but she held onto him tightly, refusing to let go in case he tried to return.

They stood for a moment in her backyard. She saw Linc close his eyes and then open them, staring up at the sky like he’d never seen it before.

Never expected to see it again,
she heard him say.

The night was quiet. Her parents’ bedroom was dark, her mother sleeping through the terror her father caused. It occurred to her to ask her mother for help, but then she dismissed it. Linc was hers to protect. Her responsibility.

She heard the ocean. It seemed louder. She could almost feel the waves crashing against the beach, pushing at the sand and edging closer and closer to the dunes and the marshes that separated the ocean from her home.

They couldn’t wait any longer. This was their chance for escape. Somehow, Edythe knew if she ran, Linc would follow her.

So she did. She ran as fast as she could, hiking her nightgown above her legs, pumping her arms, sprinting toward the marshes.

Edie!
Linc’s voice echoed in her mind, but she didn’t look back. She ran across the lawn, into the tall grass. It whipped at her face, stinging her skin. She could feel her toes sinking into the wet earth, digging into it like it could propel her forward faster.

There was a crash behind her and a grunt. She knew Linc was still weak, but he had to move. The grass got longer and thicker, and her feet began to sink into the ground. Soon she wasn’t running, she was wading through muck. She pushed aside cordgrass, but it tangled around her feet, and she fell into the brackish water. Arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up.

When she turned to look at Linc, she sucked in a breath. In the moonlight, his scales were iridescent. They shimmered, reflecting both the moon and the colors around him. As he stepped closer to her, a cloud covered the moon, and he appeared as black as the water at their feet.

They stared at each other until he touched her face.
I’ll find you again.

Edythe shook her head and couldn’t miss the look of hurt that crossed his face. “No. You need to stay far away from me. Don’t get caught. Go somewhere safe.”

I stay where you are.

“Edythe!”

They both turned. The moon peeked from behind the cloud, illuminating the marsh. She saw her father, his face dark with rage, wading through the water.

“Go!” she cried, pushing at him, but he didn’t move. He stood tall and proud. She hadn’t realized before, but he looked stronger. His scales looked healthy, and even the exposed skin on his face looked better.

This was where he belonged, and here he stood on equal ground with her father, who looked like a sodden, desperate, mad scientist. “Edythe, move away from him. He’s dangerous.”

Linc lifted his lip. His teeth were not the even, white teeth he’d flashed at Edythe in rare moments when he smiled. They were sharp and pointed, deadly.

“Come.” Her father slowly lifted a gun, pointing it at Linc. “He has to come back, Edythe. You’ll understand someday.”

Linc made a sound, something between a hiss and a growl. Everything in Edythe wanted to run away, but she made herself stay. Her feet sank into the mud, and she shivered. “You go. He’s not coming back.”

“Edythe, listen to me.”

“No!” she cried. “You listen to me! You hurt him, and I won’t let you do it again!”

She saw her father’s finger tighten on the gun. Whatever it was he was doing to Linc, he wasn’t going to stop. The gun fired with a dull shot. She screamed, and Linc jerked, but not because he’d been hurt. Floating on top of the water was a dart, its yellow-feathered end sinking into the marsh. She heard the sound again, felt a hot, lancing pain in her side and cried out. The water seemed to get closer and closer, but the ocean was far-off, the crashing waves muted. She heard another sound, a scream and a gurgle, like someone clearing their throat, and then she was submerged. It was quiet beneath the water. She heard nothing but her heartbeat.

Edie!

Suddenly, she was shaken and slapped. Everything was loud. The entire world exploded. She felt herself lifted and a blanket being wrapped around her shoulders.

“Linc?” Her voice was hoarse, and she couldn’t speak above a whisper.

“You’re okay, Edythe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She felt heat on her face. She heard sirens and rushing water. It was no longer night, or was it? There were the stars, but… She covered her face. Her home was engulfed in flames. She heard a crash and watched the ceiling fall, the structure collapsing like a house of cards. “My mom,” she whispered.

“We’re taking you to the hospital, Edythe. It’ll be okay.”

Linc?
She asked the question in her mind, but the space where he was, where he would answer and nudge her, was empty.

She was lifted and loaded onto an ambulance. Someone closed the bay doors, but she could still see the orange flames through the windows. “My dad?”

The EMT looked at her with sad eyes before fixing a mask over her face.

Edythe searched inside her head one more time.
Linc?
He was gone.

I
n Linc’s world
, when an Aegean was separated from his mate, they went mad. It began slowly, insidiously. It crept into their brain and tainted their thoughts so gradually the male didn’t realize he was crazed until he found his teeth buried in the neck of a human, dragging him beneath the water.

But Linc knew. He knew every day he was away from Edythe left him a little bit more unhinged, a bit more unstable. He’d lasted longer than any of them, fifteen years without his mate. It was the reason males were kept away from females for so long. Should they find each other before they were mature, the results were disastrous. It was also the reason why they kept away from humans. Rarely had an Aegean found their mate in the human world. Those pairings were the stuff of legends, but Linc always thought it was too much work. Living between worlds, struggling to understand their human mate...

Then he’d met Edythe, and he hadn’t cared. He was horrified at first. Not only was she human, but he’d found her when she was so young.

In the next moment, it hadn’t mattered.

If this was the person gifted to him by the gods, then he was blessed. He hadn’t been very old himself, just out of adolescence, but full of his own self-importance. He believed himself smarter and stronger than humans, and so he had no qualms approaching her. He walked out of the ocean, scales disappearing into his skin. She squatted next to a tide pool, her hands gripping her knees as she stared intently into the water.

She’d looked up in annoyance when the water dripped down his face and plunked into the pool, rippling the water and obscuring what was beneath the surface.

“Do you mind?” she asked with all the disdain of a young girl.

And Linc was lost. His heart had filled up with love and annoyance and disbelief. This little human, with the narrowed eyes and sunburned nose, was his. When he didn’t say anything, she rolled her eyes and went back to examining the pool.

She ignored him, entirely focused on the creatures. He sat next to her, trying to see what captured her attention so completely.

“It’s a sea anemone,” she informed him, and he started. He thought the question, and she heard him.

“Of course I hear you, weirdo. You’re talking in my ear.”

Any doubt he had of their connection disappeared.

“Edythe!”

The sound of a human male shouting at her made Linc cover himself in his scales, readying for a fight.

“It’s just my dad.”

He absorbed the scales quickly, and it wasn’t until later when he was captured that he realized it had been too late. Edythe’s father had seen them, and while another human may have discounted what he saw as a trick of the sun or heatstroke, Edythe’s father, a marine biologist, wanted to examine. He wanted proof of what he saw, he wanted evidence to show the world.

She had run away from him, not even glancing back over her shoulder. Her father studied him appraisingly, and he was reminded of the stories of humans who kidnapped children. He was not one of those—he only wanted to protect her. He would watch over her until she was grown and then…

“He’s just looking out for me, Dad,” he heard Edythe explain, so he shut down his next thought. Already she could hear him. He would not give away something that might scare her. She was much too young. He would be her best friend, but that was it. He would not frighten the most important being in his world.

As the distance grew between them, and he watched her disappear into the tall dune grass leading back to the houses set away from the beach, a growing ache began in his chest. The farther she moved, the greater the ache, until the pain ripped at his chest. He rubbed it, frightened and overwhelmed. He knew some mates spoke about the discomfort of being apart, but he never realized it was this searing hurt. He looked back longingly at the ocean, but he couldn’t ignore the drive, the instinct, demanding he follow her where she went.

And so he did, and everything changed.

He’d lingered outside her house, watching her for days. He saw her sit on the swing, play in the yard. He tried to keep his inner thoughts silent, but it was hard. He was confused, and he didn’t want to do anything to unnerve her.

He’d been so entirely focused on Edythe he didn’t sense her father watching him, planning and plotting. He didn’t realize he was in danger until the net fell over him, and he was dragged into a bright, steaming room. The air itself sapped his strength, leaving him unable to fight, and he was injected with toxins that paralyzed his body.

What followed were days filled with torture and unceasing pain. His scales were torn from his body, or cut, or pried off with blunt instruments. Edythe’s father watched raptly when he healed, and with even more interest when he didn’t.

He had never been so ashamed. What kind of male was he, unable to fight a human? Who didn’t even hear a human before he was captured? Worse, in his pain, he had cried out—screamed, if he was honest—and Edythe heard him.

And found him.

His face was beyond mending, and his body close to giving out. He wondered that night if he wished to die, and decided he did. Thoughts of his future with Edythe never crossed his mind; there was only agony.

How she’d known to care for him, he could never figure out. Perhaps it was trial and error. She turned on the lights, blinding him, but then seeing his discomfort, she turned them back off. The next night she arrived with a flashlight. She also returned with a needle and thread. She washed his wounds when she first found him, but the water dried his skin. He could feel his organs aching, and the next night, she brought salt.

“You could have told me who you were,” she’d whispered, as she sewed on one scale after another. “I wouldn’t have been so rude if I knew the tide pool belonged to you.”

Linc was shocked into laughter.
The tide pool was not mine.

She looked at him then, half disbelieving, half annoyed, and he laughed again before realizing she could hear him. He was mortified. His mate, still only a child, heard him cry out like a youngling and came to his rescue. He was glad no other knew of his shame.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” She wrung out a rag saturated with salt water over his skin. “Get better so you can leave here.”

He’d wanted to leave; there was no point denying it. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to hurt anymore. But his body would not let him leave. If he even thought about it, the pain began again. The only time it alleviated was when Edythe was present, healing him or sitting against the bars, watching him.

The daytime had been the worst. He ached with remembered pain. He was weak, undernourished, and healing. He knew what the nights would bring, and he knew his respite from her father was brief. There were others who took part in his torture, though they never lifted a finger against him. He would position a camera, and voices would fill the room.

What happens if you...?

Does he make a sound if you...?

He never saw their faces, but he would never forget their voices and the torment he suffered because of them.

Now he was alone. He had no family, and Edythe was gone. He’d brought her back to her home, but it was already in flames. The emergency vehicles screamed down the street, their lights flashing and horns blaring. Neighbors spilled onto porches, running toward her house, crying out. He left her there, knowing it was the right thing to do. He couldn't take her with him. She was just a child, and a human. She couldn't survive in his home.

He hadn’t known when he left her that he'd never see her again. Leaving her there, watching EMTs load her onto an ambulance and take her away, was the hardest thing he ever did. He was not male enough to care for her. He could not protect her.

He’d forced his hands to release her, forced his body to creep back into the shadows. Doubled over in agony, he crawled back to the marshes, disappearing under the water. He healed there, but when he emerged, he was different, changed. If he were to meet Edythe again, she wouldn't know who he was.

Now when he came out of the water, he was no longer the pale, scaled creature he'd been. The darkness inside him was reflected in his scales. It started with just a patch of blackness, still iridescent, reminding Linc of the lava that hardened when spilling from undersea volcanoes. When the light hit him just right, they reflected the sun, and he could see in places he’d turned a deep green.

The darkness began to creep over his body. First a patch on his shoulder, then it moved to his back, across his shoulders, and down his other arm. Now, the only part of him untouched was the skin on his face, finally healed fifteen years after his scales were pulled off.

He told no one what had happened to him, but they guessed. Worse, they discovered he had a mate, and so they watched him carefully, waiting for him to show signs of madness.

The curious, confident male he'd been was replaced with a moody, short-tempered beast. One who spent more and more time lurking in the marsh or creeping up the sand dunes out of the sea. He returned many times to the neighborhood where Edythe had lived, but she never returned. The pain in his chest never lessened, but he grew used to it. He came to believe as long as he felt the pain, she was still alive somewhere, still connected to him. He long ago gave up hoping she'd return. In truth, he didn't want her to. He'd had his chance to prove his worth.

And then there was his mind. He couldn't trust he wasn't crazed. He had moments of darkness so deep that days passed before he became aware of himself.

He merely existed. Alone, shunned, but still too proud to end his pathetic life, and missing Edythe so much that he wished sometimes he’d never met her. Because then he’d never have known what it was like to live without her.