Reunion (4 page)

Her eyes flickered to his chest and filled with tears when she saw the burn mark there, the pattern and shape of the cross clearly defined against his skin. The only place it hadn’t burned him was where his shoulder dipped in towards his chest. Hadn’t Timur had the courage to stop this from happening? She could see from the wounds that whoever had attacked Jascha had managed to strip off his jacket. What kind of struggle had there been? How violent was this hunter and how strong?

She blinked away her tears and ignored the tight ache in her throat. Whoever did this to him would pay dearly. She would make sure of it. No one did something as horrific as this to Jascha and lived to tell the tale.

Giving herself a moment to get her emotions back under control, Marise stared at the cross burn on his chest. Every intricate mark, each swirl and arch, was defined on his skin. She resisted her desire to touch it and cleaned the cloth instead. The water was already turning pink.

She squeezed the cloth out again and when she turned back to continue her work, Jascha was watching her with eyes full of confusion and disbelief.

She wrapped the cloth up in both hands and felt like she had done all those years ago when they had first met—hesitant and shy.

“If you remain quiet, I’ll stay,” she whispered and waited to see if he would play by her rules.

He said nothing, merely stared at her with violet eyes so intense that she had to avert hers to her hands. She uncurled her fists and silently cleaned the wounds on his arms, never once looking at his face.

When she was done, she stood and thought for a moment he would say something. He didn’t. She could feel him watching her, and knew that just as she could sense his emotions, he would be able to sense hers. They had never mated but they had been close enough for long enough that a sort of bond had developed. It was quite common for lovers to develop this sense and she had always loved it in the past, but now it frightened her. She didn’t want Jascha to know how muddled being back here with him was making her feel. She didn’t want him to know that she still cared for him.

Removing her jacket, she placed it on a nearby chair and then moved back to him. She knelt on the bed and took hold of his hand. A spark of electricity ran through her when he shifted his fingers against hers, and she cursed him for it and for the warm feeling that settled in her chest and refused to leave.

She leaned over and licked each cut on his hand, gradually working her way up his arm until she had sealed each one. She moved around the bed and did the same with his other arm, feeling him watching her all the while. His feelings were intense and she couldn’t stop herself from latching onto him, monitoring the minute changes in them. If she was reading him right, he was definitely glad to see her and relieved too. He felt content, almost happy, but she knew he couldn’t possibly be feeling that way really. The pain he was in was probably affecting his mind, making him believe he was happy. He was probably delirious.

At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Marise hesitated a moment before beginning to clean the cuts on his stomach. The voice at the back of her mind kept whispering words about how nice it was to touch a man again, to touch him again. Her lips buzzed with the feel of his skin and the memories of things they had done, countless nights spent locked in each other’s embrace. She closed her eyes and savoured the tang of his blood, breathing in his scent and allowing herself a momentary slip in restraint. It did feel good to touch him again, to feel his soft skin against her lips, and taste him.

When she reached his chest, she looked at the burn mark. It would be too painful for him if she licked it to seal the wound. She concentrated on sealing the cuts on the other side of his chest instead. Her stomach flipped and jigged when his hand brushed her hip and she had to remind herself that she wasn’t a youngling anymore and he shouldn’t be affecting her like this.

But she hadn’t been a youngling back then either, and he had still made her feel as giddy as a teenager in love for the first time.

Sealing the final cut on his shoulder, she left the bed without looking at him and walked around it. He shifted, sitting up, and a glance at him revealed that he hadn’t bothered to move the blanket with him. Clearly he was feeling a little better and he was definitely happy to see her. She dragged her eyes away from his erection and motioned for him to cover it. She could almost see the smirk he would be wearing as he obeyed her silent instruction. He had issued a challenge, showing her without words that he still wanted her. The ball was in her court now. She wanted to puncture it and throw it back, but the part of her that was thrilled about this affirmation of his feelings overpowered her common sense.

So instead of leaving as her better judgement told her to, she sat back down beside him and looked right into his eyes. He wasn’t smiling as she had expected him to be. He was watching her with silent ardour.

She leaned forwards and carefully removed the bandage from around his throat. He winced a few times and she tensed in unison with each one but continued regardless. This had to be done or he would never heal properly. Blood wasn’t enough. Their family should have known that.

Picking up the cloth, she rinsed it out in the water and then dunked it back in again. She squeezed out the excess and then brought the rag to his neck. He hissed, breathing in sharply through clenched teeth when she applied the first tentative stroke and she glanced an apology at him.

Her eyes widened a little when he clenched his fists and his whole body tautened. It was still a delicious sight. Dragging her eyes away, she steeled herself against her desire and focused on cleaning his neck wound. It turned her insides to look at it. The deep laceration ran around the side of his throat to his Adam’s apple. It was red, seeping and open. Anger coiled in her chest. Her family should’ve known they would need to sew this in order for it to heal.

When it was clean, Marise lightly ran her fingers along either side of it and frowned. She didn’t hide her concern when she looked at him this time. She let him see it. He needed to know that she was doing this for his own good so he was prepared for what came next. He was sensible and a soldier. He would know that she needed to sew it closed.

Giving him a moment to recover, she bunched the thin covers up until they were a strip across his hips and set about cleaning his legs. There were only a few cuts on them, but it would give him enough time to ready himself. He sighed and she looked up at him. The sight of him leaning back against the headboard with his eyes closed, muscles tensed, made her pause at her work. She took in how beautiful he still was and realised that she hadn’t cleaned the wounds on his face. She wouldn’t dare seal those for him. The temptation to kiss him would be too great.

She averted her eyes again when his opened. He would be able to sense when she was staring at him. She had to start being more careful.

An image flashed across her mind and she scowled at the bed, hating the reminder of what he had done all those years ago. Why? She held in the tears and knelt back on the bed. Her hands shook so she clenched them into fists and kept them by her sides. Why had he done that to her? He had loved her, she knew that, and she had loved him with all her heart. But had he loved her with all of his?

A mocking voice at the back of her mind said that it was partly her fault too. She never had been one hundred percent honest with him, but it had been with good reason.

The air in the room felt suddenly oppressive and heavy, and she could sense Jascha’s struggle as keenly as her own, only his was different. He was struggling against a desire to speak, knowing she would leave if he did, while she was struggling against reason and her feelings, still trying to understand what had happened that night fifty years ago.

Rousing herself, she looked at his legs. All emotion drained away and she felt calm again inside but hollow at the same time. She stared at the long cut across his left thigh and watched a drop of blood slide down his skin. He was still bleeding. If he didn’t heal, she would never get answers to her questions. If she didn’t get answers, she would be stuck here in this hellhole forever.

She wanted to run away.

Her whole being said to flee and not look back, never return.

Slipping from the bed, Marise walked over to her jacket and took a needle and thread from the pocket. She had told one of the servants that she needed to repair her jacket. She couldn’t believe she had lied for Jascha.

She sat back on the bed, straddling his leg, and threaded the needle, using her teeth to break the string. She wasn’t gentle with him and didn’t feel anything whenever he hissed or jerked beneath her. Her focus was fixed on the wound. It wasn’t Jascha. It was a stranger. Jascha was dead to her. In front of her was just a soldier who she needed answers from.

She bit the thread again when she had finished sewing his leg and rethreaded the needle as she moved up the bed so she was sitting beside the pillows. She only allowed herself a brief glance at his face and a small, sick sense of satisfaction filled her when she saw how scared he looked.

Sewing the gash across his throat, she was gentler this time, more forgiving. She frowned when tiny droplets of blood formed where the needle had punctured his skin. He tensed and growled. She raised an eyebrow and barely resisted chiding him for his outburst. He looked worried when her eyes met his. She had told him to keep quiet. He probably took growling as breaking that order.

She didn’t leave. Instead, she continued to sew his throat until the wound was finally closed, bit the thread to snap it and put the needle and cotton back into her jacket pocket. Returning to the bed, she lowered her mouth to his neck and took a shallow breath to catch his scent before licking the blood off the wound and sealing it. He sighed again and she hated the light, carefree feeling it caused inside her.

Her eyes closed when he whispered something in Russian. She wished that she knew what he had said, but she had only caught the words ‘my love’ again.

When his cheek settled against hers, she gave him a moment and savoured the brief connection before severing it by moving away. He looked at her with bright eyes and she was relieved to see he was more conscious now, much better than yesterday.

She took up a clean bandage and wrapped it around his throat, pinning it and smoothing the edges. Her fingers brushed his bare skin and she didn’t stop herself from enjoying the feel of it beneath her touch.

His hand closed around hers and she stared at them. She knew what he wanted.

She stood and her hand slipped from his.

But she couldn’t do that to herself again.

“I’ll let you rest,” she said and he looked disappointed. “I will come by before daybreak.”

Marise walked to the door, unlocked it and opened it. There were footsteps in the hall. She stood in the door when a young female vampire stopped in front of her.

“Alyssa,” Marise said in a cold tone.

All she got in return was a dirty look. The younger vampire tried to pass her, but Marise stepped in time with her, blocking the door. Why did Alyssa want to see Jascha?

Alyssa shoved past her. Marise turned around. Alyssa looked at Jascha and then glared at her and Marise knew what this was about. Alyssa had always liked Jascha, but Jascha had never noticed her.

Jascha’s attention returned to Marise. His eyes narrowed and a smile teased the corners of his lips.

It seemed he still didn’t notice Alyssa.

Giving him a small nod, she left the room with a smile on her face.

T
he graveyard didn’t look much different to the last time she was here and the biting spring weather was exactly as she had remembered it. She wrapped her arms about herself, wishing she had brought her long black coat with her and wondering how she could’ve forgotten how cold it was. She had known that her time here would’ve been spent partly outside hunting whatever did this to her family. In the few brief hours after receiving the call and before her departure, her head had been in a spin and in a way it wasn’t surprising that she had forgotten to bring such things with her. She hadn’t even changed into her best uniform. Everything had passed in a blur.

Taking a deep breath of the freezing air, she listened to the silent cemetery. It was only a small place, but it was one of her favourites. She had always come here to be alone and think, and that was exactly what she needed right now—space to make sense of everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours.

Seeing Jascha again had thrown her world off balance in a way she hadn’t expected. She had always known that if they were to meet again that things would be awkward to a degree but she had always thought she would be able to keep it together and remain detached from things, from him. Only she couldn’t. Her first sight of him had rocked her, shaken her to the core and brought all her old feelings back to the surface. She had forgotten how strong they were. The years apart had dulled them, easing her pain and leaving her free to focus on her duty. The instant she had laid eyes on him, everything had come back, not only her feelings, but the memories of that night.

Today, she had foolishly compounded those emotions and given them a stronger hold over her heart. They were impossible to shake now. She must have been insane to think she could walk in there and tend to Jascha’s wounds without her feelings getting involved. If she was honest with herself, that was what today had been all about. It was purely her love for him driving her, not a need to get him healthy again so she could get answers. She’d had to see that he was on his way to being healed so she could focus on her work by eliminating her worry about his condition.

Her head jerked up when a twig snapped in the distance.

Her senses immediately sharpened and she searched the area with them.

A tiny blip of movement grew into something big enough to be human.

She focused on the signature and slunk behind a tomb. They were walking towards her. She stilled, disappearing into the background, as silent as the grave at her back. They were definitely human. She sniffed. Definitely. Male. No trace of alcohol.