Hemlock Veils (39 page)

Folding her arms, she threw him an exasperated glare. “What do you take me for? We do have the same book, Mr. Clayton.”

He stood on the deck of a ship, rolling over a choppy, stormy sea. He wondered how long he could fight the desire to throw up. She touched his arm and the sensation made him jerk, since she felt cold against his feverish skin.

“You’re burning up,” she said. She tried making him sit, but he didn’t.

“How can you touch me?” he blurted, his voice bitter and eyes narrow. “How can you even look at me, Ms. Ashton, knowing what I am?”

She recoiled, and her own face darkened a shade. With her free hand on her hip, her eyes smoldered with a damp passion. “You’re not a monster, Henry. And yes, I’m calling you that, because Henry’s your name and I think we’re past the point of formal regards.”

“Are you blind!” he shouted, his eyes bulging. “I
am
a monster. That’s what I am! You’ve seen what I can do, what instincts I have to fight.”

“But you
do
fight them.” Her eyes appeared sadder than he’d ever seen, and it was just enough to lower his shoulders, just enough to lower his heart rate ever so slightly. She shook her head, her voice soft. “I wish you could see, for just a second, what I see when I look into your eyes. Yours
and
his.”

“Yeah?” he asked tiredly. “And what do you see?”

“I see a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, a man who lives every day under the pressure of his past mistakes. I see a man who, for longer than a lifetime, has suffered for something he doesn’t deserve. I see a
man
, not a monster.” She neared. “I see a beautiful soul. You deserve happiness, Henry.”

He huffed and looked away, even through the heavy heat in his heart—the kind that clashed with the rage he now had to dig inside himself to find. “You couldn’t possibly know…”

“I don’t have to know. But your past doesn’t make you who you are.”

His short laugh of disbelief made another wave of nausea take his breath. “On the contrary. My past has made me
exactly
what I am.”

“I said it doesn’t make you
who
you are.”

“Sorry,” he sarcastically retorted. “My past has made me exactly
who
I am.”

“Then why don’t I see it?”

“Because you’re someone who can find beauty in a dandelion.” Even he heard the offense in his voice, despite the fact that it was one of the very things he loved about her.

“And I see it in you, too. I will always see it, no matter how much you try to hate me.”

“Ms. Ashton,” he said, bringing a hand to his eyes while leaning against the back of the couch. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop hiding from me. Stop viewing me as a threat.” Her voice was so desperate that he opened his eyes. Hers welled with the desire of her words, and he wanted so badly to give her what she wanted. “I want
you
. The real you—the one I know at nighttime and the one who kissed me. The one who really sees me. Because that side of you isn’t afraid of me. That side of you knows me.” She paused. “Let me love you, Henry.”

He sank to the couch, his legs still trembling, and all he could do was shake his head at the way his heart felt pierced by numerous hooks, then pulled in every direction. It was a pain unlike the rest, and he didn’t understand. How badly he wanted to be the man she spoke of—how badly he ached for it—but he was saving her, and him, from the day when she would finally wake up and realize what he was.

She sounded nervous, even unsure, when she said, “If…if you don’t feel anything for me, then I accept that, and I’ll walk out and never bother you again. But if you do, I—”

“No,” he shook his head. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t deserve it!” Bracing himself, he shot to his feet again, and he couldn’t be formal anymore, didn’t want to. “Dammit, Elizabeth! I don’t deserve your love.
No
man is worthy of it, as far as I’m concerned, so how could
I
ever be?”

With tight lips, she fought the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Stop speaking of me as though I’m perfect. You, of all people, know I’m not. You’ve seen my dark side!”

“Dark side?” He nearly laughed. “You mean your human side?”

“I’m no more human than you. You know what I’ve done, what I did before I came—”

“We’ve already been through that. You did the best with what you were given.”

“And so did you,” she said without missing a beat. “Henry, you still accepted me after I almost lost it on Brian, and even after I told you how I got here. It’s time for you to let me accept
you
.”

He shook his head and glanced at Arne, who appeared to be moved and livid at the same time. “Did Arne tell you the kind of man I was, Elizabeth?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“I think one of his most classic descriptions is ‘A good man who’d just lost his way.’”

“It’s the truth, is it not?” Arne said, speaking for the first time in a long while and meeting Henry’s eyes just as fiercely. “And it was in one thing
only
you lost your way.”

“That
one
thing is what I was judged on. The rest doesn’t matter.”

Arne looked to be on the verge of laughter. “Doesn’t matter? Since when does helping the needy—and saving thousands of jobs your father almost cut before you saved the company, mind you—
not
matter?” He looked to Elizabeth before Henry could respond. “For your information, dear Elizabeth, Henry had a bigger heart than anyone I’d ever known, and still does. It was why I started working for him in the first place, after his father passed away.”

Henry groaned through his teeth, ignoring him. Instead, he closed in on Elizabeth. She kept the blanket over her while folding her arms, staring up at him in the defiant way that was her own. “The women, did he mention them—the ones whose names I don’t even remember?”

“No,” she said again.

He looked her squarely in the eyes, telling himself not to waver as he said: “I slept with too many to count. A new one nearly every night—some who even felt I took it too far. I had no rules, nor did I give thought to the occasional wedding rings some women tried to hide. I hardly batted an eye as I used them and sent them away. Raw, meaningless passion.” She faltered only slightly, but the way she swallowed and blinked said it had been hard for her to hear—just like he’d intended it to be. “You might want to be with me despite the fact that I’m a monster, but can you honestly say you still want me after that? After you know just
one
of the many reasons I
am
one?”

“You’ve hidden your whole life,” she said instead of answering. “And you’ve done a damn good job at fooling everyone. Even
before
your curse. But that person you’re portraying—before
and
now—isn’t you. You need to forgive yourself, let it go.”

“You don’t know.”

“I know enough. I know you’ve made mistakes. But you do have a heart, like Arne said. I haven’t been fooled, Henry. I’ve seen it, from the very first night I was here and during the fleeting moments you let me in. And it’s infuriating that you
can’t
see it—that you’re not willing to!”

He sighed, so ready to give in. Closing his eyes, he again brought his fingers to his eyes. “I,” he started tiredly, softly. “Thank you for saving me, Elizabeth. I mean that. But…you shouldn’t have.”

“Henry…” she breathed.

He was about to speak again, but something caught his eye. It wasn’t even the t-shirt she wore, which he just noticed for the first time was one of his own. It was the blanket she kept over herself. She was hiding something. Avoiding questions all together, he pulled it off of her, too quickly for her to take hold of it, and she clutched the air. Her entire forearm was bandaged, from elbow to wrist, the white cloth failing to hide three bloody streaks. Rage boiled inside him, cooking his blood, his heart. As he stared, chest heaving, he said, “I…did this?” He felt sick, and his knees almost buckled.

“It was an accident,” she said cautiously. “When the poison—”

“You tried to hide this from me?”

“Yes, for the same reason I didn’t want to tell you I knew. I was afraid you’d blame yourself. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He brought a hand to his head. Everything spun, even her and the red on her arm.

“Henry, look at me.” He did, or tried to, but his eyes were out of focus. “This wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

“An
accident
?” He lost it, drowned in self-loathing. “These
accidents
are all I’ve been trying to protect you from, Elizabeth! And
Aglaé
…” He exhaled, trying to steady the choppy sea in his head.

“I can handle it, Henry.”

“I can’t…What if I can’t save you from her?” His voice was desperate, and he realized he was grasping her by the shoulder. “What if I can’t save you from
me
?”

Her brows pulled together, and he could tell she didn’t know what to say. His eyes found her arm and he swallowed at the way it sickened him, at how it was from his hand. “You should have stayed away, Elizabeth. From the very beginning.”

“You’re the one who came! I tried to honor our deal, but there you were, waiting outside every night. And it wasn’t until I realized it was actually
you
that I decided to meet you.
You
came to
me
.”

“It was
you
who wouldn’t leave well enough alone!”

She stared, and he wanted to drown in her eyes, never failing to remind him of his forest. “How could I forget you existed? How could I pretend you weren’t real and that your soul didn’t speak to mine?”

Sighing, he placed his free hand on his hip. “Get out.” He said the words before he could think them through.

She recoiled in surprise, perhaps in pain.

“I won’t do this anymore. I will
not
put your life in danger. I can’t, Elizabeth.” He glanced at her arm one last time before gritting his teeth and turning away.

“Henry…” It was Arne.

“Out!” he shouted, not bothering to turn, and his eyes burned along with his heaving, tight chest. Maybe now she would see him for what he was. Maybe now was the time she would wake to reality.

It took a moment for the bustling behind him to begin, and with a weak voice, she gave Arne instructions for caring for his wound and fever. On the last word, her voice tanked, giving in to emotion. Then, with soft footsteps and an even softer closing of the front door, she was gone. He sank to the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“She saved your life, you hotheaded ass!” Arne shouted.

The image of Arne swam in his vision, his friend veiled by tears. Henry wiped them angrily. “I can’t believe you let her stay.”

“She wouldn’t leave, no matter how hard I tried. And frankly I’m glad she didn’t, because I wouldn’t have known what to do. I’ll say it again, because I don’t think you understand: you would be dead right now if it wasn’t for her. And you really think I could send her away, knowing she could save you, just to protect your secret? Sorry, my friend, but protecting you is more important than protecting your secret, especially from someone who already knows it.”

Again lowering his face into his hands, Henry willed the sickness to leave his body.

“You’re a damn fool. You’re doing
everything
possible to lose the only woman who’s ever really loved you for who you are—loved you
despite
the fact that you’re a damn, blind fool!”

“She doesn’t love me, Arne,” he tried denying.

Arne sighed, and his voice became less confrontational. “If you could see just a glimpse of the way she cared for you this morning, Henry, you wouldn’t have been able to let her walk out that door.” Henry looked up. “It was one thing in the middle of the night—mending your wounds and cleaning you up when she was a mess herself, reassuring you she would never leave and that you would be all right; pulling a blanket over you and lying by your side. All in your beast form, mind you. But it was something quite different in the morning light. She doesn’t know I saw, Henry, but I’ve never seen anything so moving. I’ve never seen anyone care for another soul the way she cared for you, or as much love in someone’s eyes. She pled for you to return to her. You don’t remember, but she gave you everything last night.”

Henry’s heart was so heavy it stole his breath. It hurt so badly all he wanted to do was give into it, to the way he loved her and the way he wanted to protect her from all things. But he would always hate himself no matter how much she loved him, because he
didn’t
deserve her. If she needed protecting from anyone, it was him. “I made her leave because it’s what’s best for her. She…doesn’t know what she sees,” he finished, less convincingly.

“She knows exactly what she sees. Henry…” Arne clenched his teeth. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life. I know this is impossible for you to believe, but she saw something in you worth loving—something you haven’t allowed anyone to see in years. And here you are, walking away from it. No,
shoving
it away. She
loves
you. Hell, she would risk her life for you. And you know what?”

Cautiously, Henry lifted his eyes.

“You’re right about one thing: you
don’t
deserve her, not like this. But the
real
you—the one who can give up the charade and accept the gift you’ve been given—
he
does. That Henry needs to chase her down. Soon too, because you may have just lost her forever, like you
think
you want.”

Henry lacked the motivation to argue, every ounce of his fight depleted.

“I know you ache for her, Henry. I know you need her, far more than she needs you.”

Lying on the couch, the wooziness made the chandelier spin above. Arne patted him on the leg. “It’s time to pull the stick out of your ass now. You’re just going to have to accept that it’s more than me who cares about you.”