Forsaken (28 page)

Akiva melted into the darkness, his face hardening, his eyes narrowing, his heart burning with a hatred that fired his veins and radiated outward. It wouldn't take but a second to destroy Levi, and he would have, if not for Hannah standing between them. If she saw what he was capable of, she would be frightened and he would lose her.

Pushing away from the tree, he turned his back on Levi and Hannah, walked into the deepening fog, and felt his hopes dissolving, disintegrating, decomposing.

At one time, he'd wanted freedom to pursue his desires, other cultures, thoughts beyond the walls of this miniscule community, and the pursuit had stripped him of all he'd ever really wanted: Hannah. He'd come back for her, willing to give up everything—his desire to see the world and discover its secrets—all to be with her. But his chance had been thwarted.

It was all Camille's fault. She had chased him, stolen his hopes, his dreams; she'd taken his life, selfishly trading it for an eternal damnation. Even now, she had not given up in her pursuit of him, except she no longer had any real power over him, and she couldn't hurt him as she had before. She simply wanted him for a mate. She'd followed him all this way north once again, even sitting near him at the Vivaldi concert, boldly and daringly thrusting herself before him in an attempt to persuade and beguile him. He hated her—always had, always would.

When he had lived here in Promise during his previous life, he'd always felt like an outsider. Now he truly was, because he no longer belonged with the living nor with the dead. He found himself in a no man's land, gray like the burgeoning fog, that was neither sunshine nor dark, a world he still couldn't comprehend. The bloods he knew embraced their life of darkness, relished in it, thrived. But he could not. So once again he was alone.

Alone.

Being alone was the deepest, darkest pit, stretching beyond the realm of light, hopeless and forgotten. Loneliness was a raw ache never anesthetized by any drug or panacea, and the silence came upon him, isolating and shredding what was left of him.

When he thought of eternity—time stretching out to the far reaches of the heavens, the darkness, which never relented, the coldness, which never abated, and the silence, which never retreated—he knew a piece of him would shrivel and die each day. He wouldn't, couldn't survive that. If that was his future, he didn't want to survive.

But Hannah could change all of that. She could shun the darkness and banish the cold and destroy the silence with a smile, a touch, a laugh. Together, their love would insulate them for the harshness of his existence. They could escape love's mortal sting together, never apart, never forced to face a single moment alone. He could change Hannah the way Camille had changed him. But she had to be willing; it was his one stipulation. He wouldn't steal her life from her the way his had been stolen. She had to want
him
. More than life. More than death. More than heaven or the possibility of such.

One way or another, he wouldn't live without the one thing he'd ever loved, the one good thing he'd ever known—Hannah—the heartbeat of his desires. If she turned away from him, he could not go on, but she had to make the decision on the basis of her love for him, without competing suitors. He would not allow Levi to take away what was his. Not now. Not when he was so close.

His hands compressed into hard, fevered fists, and he turned back toward Hannah and Levi, watched them—body pressed against body, arms entangled, breath mingled—his hatred burrowing deep, stoking the fire, stirring the flames, burning inside his chest. Instantly, he knew the only thing that would satisfy. He sniffed the air and smelled blood.

He couldn't get enough of her.

Of her kiss, her sweet, apple-turnover scent, her soft, gentle curves pressed against him. All at once he felt weak and fierce at the same time—weak in his resolve, fierce in his raw need of her. If he didn't pull back, he wouldn't be able to.

Levi spun her around, laughing out loud, unable to contain the joy swelling inside him. When he pulled her against his chest, he gentled his embrace and kissed the top of her head, reveling in having her tucked close against his heart. Hannah fit against him perfectly, and he knew the Lord had made her just for him.

He wanted all of her, not just a part of her heart, not most of her attention. He wanted to banish the thought of any other man from her mind. He wanted to touch her, possess her with each kiss, see his child swell her belly, hear her breathe his name in the dark of night and call for him in the light of day.

But the time was not yet right, and Levi set her away from him, placing at least a few inches between them, and felt his arms tremble with suppressed desire and overwhelming passion such as he had never experienced. It was not as if he had never held or kissed a woman, just not the right woman. Of course, he'd been tempted during his running around time, but he had purposed in his heart not to violate the marriage bed before he was ever married. But soon, Hannah would be his wife.

He cupped her sweet face, brushed his thumb along the outer edge of her plump lip. For the first time he understood the impact of Jacob's loss on her, why she had floundered and mourned for so long, because if he ever lost Hannah, he would be crushed beneath the weight of grief.

His hands couldn't stop exploring the softness of her skin, as his fingers traced the slope of her jaw the curve of her ear. Even in the pale moonlight, she blushed as if he had lit a fire inside her, brightening her skin to an enchanting pink that warmed the caverns of his heart in ways he'd never imagined possible. She had a dazed look, a look he had given her, and his heart pounded so hard it shook him to the core.

She closed the space between them again, rested her cheek against his chest, trusting him, and his heart swelled and felt as if it might burst. He would never betray that trust or her love. He would guard her, protect her, and love her with every ounce that he possessed. Loving her fully, completely, would be his priority from this moment forward.

Ever since Jacob, and that whole ordeal, he'd felt frozen with indecision and fear, with confusion and disbelief. But now, maybe it was finally over. Maybe he didn't have to tell Hannah his terrible secret, the secret that had taken away his brother, then his family, and left him alone, forsaken in his grief and despair. Maybe now, Hannah and he could move forward toward a future together.

The shattering of glass splintered the stillness. Hannah jerked upright, her eyes wide as she glanced around, then up at Levi for assurance. He looked as surprised as she felt, but fear did not darken his eyes. He pulled her sideways toward the mill and behind him, protecting her from anything that might harm her, as he searched the darkness.

“What happened?” she asked, clinging to his hand, seeking reassurance in his firm grip. Fear crawled up her spine, inch by inch, its talons digging deep in an effort to paralyze her.

Levi tugged on her hand, his gaze scanning the foggy surroundings, especially the copse of trees encircling the mill. “We should go.”

She followed willingly, easily, both of her hands around his one, as he moved along the edge of the building. But then he stopped so suddenly that she bumped into his back. “What is it?”

“What do you want?” Levi spoke, not to her, but to someone else.

“I think you know, Levi.”

The voice was familiar and stabbed at her from out of the darkness. She peered around Levi's broad shoulder and the sight of Akiva swept away the fear. “It's all right,” she assured Levi, stepping out from behind him. “I know him.”

But Levi braced an arm outward, which felt like an iron bar across her middle, stopping her from moving forward. “No, you don't.”

“Levi, he knew Jacob. His name is Akiva.” She looked toward Akiva across the yard. He stood very still but seemed relaxed, his arms by his sides, his face cast in shadows. “Tell him—”

“Akiva?” Levi turned his head toward her, but his gaze remained on Akiva, his brows slanted downward in a distrusting glare. “Is that what you call yourself now?”

“He was hurt,” she explained, feeling Levi's displeasure, and her nerves tangled at having to admit how she had hidden this stranger, which probably seemed worse than what actually happened. “I helped him while he was healing, while he—”

“
Mein Gott
.” Levi's voice ripped through her, and she felt a chill through her bones like a draft had opened in her soul. “Is that where…
who
…you've been seeing all this time?”

“What is it?” She searched his face, but he didn't look at her. He stared at Akiva as if he hated the man when he didn't even know him. “What is wrong?”

“Levi.” Akiva spoke his name in a demanding way. But what was he demanding?

“You should have never come back.” Levi's tone was hard, unrelenting. Hannah had never heard him speak in such a manner.

Akiva was back? What did he mean by that? Had he been here before? Hannah had believed he was new to the area, but he seemed to know Levi. And Levi knew him.

“Call it destiny.” Akiva's gaze shifted to Hannah. “And I believe you know the reason why.”

Levi's spine straightened and his shoulders squared. “I won't allow it, Jacob.”

A jolt shook Hannah and she staggered back a step. “
Jacob?
”

She shoved Levi's arm aside, her gaze shifting between the two men—first on Akiva, then to Levi, and then back to the man standing a few feet away, watching her. How could it be Jacob? She would have known. She would have recognized him. As if dismissing the idea, the possibility, she shook her head. “His name is Akiva.”

But the heavy clouds shifted overhead and revealed more of the moon, which offered more light. Yet with the fog, everything seemed coated with a haze. Whatever similarities Akiva had with Jacob were negated in those eyes that were so different. But could she have been wrong? Could she have not seen?

Then the whispers interceded, scattered her thoughts, her questions, like leaves skittering across the ground, chased by the wind. The fog seemed to penetrate her mind and obscure any clarity.

Slowly, he reached a hand toward Hannah, his palm up in a beseeching manner. “It's all right, my sweet Hannah.” His voice resonated deep within her, as if it filled the very center of her bones. “Come to me now.”

As if seeing him for the first time, she recognized him then, more than his face or his voice. It was as if his soul spoke to hers. Something pulled her toward him, and she took a step.

“Hannah.” Levi grabbed her arm, held her back.

“Is it—” She stopped herself, unable or unwilling to speak Jacob's name as it snagged on the panic constricting her throat. She feared saying it, as if speaking it aloud might make her wake up from this dream.

Levi's hand tightened on her arm. “Stay away from him. Didn't you hear Roc—”

But she jerked loose and moved toward Jacob. “It's not possible, is it?”

“No!” The words burst out of Levi. He glared at Akiva. “Jacob, you will not—”

“She's mine, Levi.”

Hannah stood between them, glancing back at Levi, not understanding what he was saying, why he was so angry, why for the first time she recognized fear in his eyes, and then her gaze shifted to Akiva…or Jacob. Was it really him? Could it be? She shook so hard she wasn't sure her legs would hold her up much less allow her to walk toward him.

“She has always been mine.”

“I will not allow it.”

“
Allow it?
” Jacob laughed. “You can do nothing to stop it.”

“Things change.” Levi's voice was firm with resolve.

“Do you think I would harm her?”

“I've seen what you can do. She is not yours. She is the Lord's.” Levi came up behind her, braced her shoulders with his hands. “Hannah.”

She stared straight at Jacob. This was a dream. This had to be a dream. And yet if it was, she didn't want to wake up from it. “H-how is this possible?”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Akiva…or Jacob said.

“She is not the one without faith, Jacob.” Levi's tone was harsh, angry, and then he spun her around to face him. He bent down, his face inches from hers. “Go home. Do you hear me? Go now!”

But suddenly, Levi jerked back as if shoved. He shook his head, swatted the air, knocking his hat to the ground. “What is this?” He turned one way then the other, his body shifting sideways. “Jacob—” He ground the name out between clenched teeth as he wrestled with something that she couldn't see, couldn't imagine.

She looked toward Akiva, who was smiling, and her gaze locked with his again. It felt as if a giant magnet tugged at her, the whispers and murmurings pulling her toward him. She was already walking when Levi called to her again, said her name over and over, but his voice sounded far away…and fading into the distance.

“It is Jacob,” she whispered.

“He's not Jacob.” Levi's voice was faint. “Why then does he go by another name?”

Her footsteps faltered, and that one question penetrated the haze in her mind, followed by another. Why had he not told her he was Jacob? But the questions faded beneath the whispers, which grew louder and more insistent, shrouding any questions.

“Come with me, Hannah.” His hand remained stretched out toward her. “I'll explain everything.”

“What about…” she hesitated. “Levi?”

“Levi is jealous. My own brother doesn't want me back because he knows then he will lose you. Forever.”

“But—”

“No!” Levi's voice rang out, echoed in the tree limbs above them, and this time resonating in her heart.

But her vision filled with only Jacob's face, her ears with his voice, murmuring to her, coaxing her, drawing her to him. “They said you died.”

“You can see I'm alive.”

“But—”

“Hannah!” Levi called to her again, sounding remote, the fog absorbing his voice.

“They lied?” her own voice quavered, as she thought of all that Levi had told her, the grave where she had gone so often to be with Jacob. Was all of it a lie? But why?

“Jacob is lying to you now, Hannah.” Levi's voice cut through the buzzing of whispers. Shaking her head, trying to clear it, she backed away from Levi…and from Jacob. “I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me that it was you weeks ago?” She remained caught between the two brothers, not moving in either direction. She kept shaking her head, unable to grasp what was happening.

“I didn't want to frighten you.” Jacob spoke calmly, but there was an underlying current of something…something odd, something unsettling, something she did not understand.

Frightened, feeling betrayed by both Levi and Akiva…or Jacob, she bolted. Not toward home but through the dense forest. She didn't know whom she was running from or where she was going. She simply ran into the thick fog.