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Like a vacuum rammed down my throat, air is sucked from my lungs.
I cannot breathe.
Aunt Delia’s words hang over me, suffocating every ounce of oxygen from my being as an unbearable tightness locks my body stiff.
I cannot move.
Disbelief fills my mind as rage floods my soul. How can such a thing be true? When will my torment come to its end? Will there ever be a cessation to my continual grief?
Palpitations fill my chest as my heart strikes relentless blow after blow, likely seeking to escape the nightmare that has become my life. Dread looms inside me, digging like the grim reaper’s scythe in my soul, tearing me apart, piece by piece. There is no consolation that will assure my comfort nor any vindication capable of forfeiting my vengeance.
And a great vengeance I will have.
“Explain.” My muted words slip through gritted teeth as I lay hold on my chest, working hard to recapture my breath.
“I am so sorry, Damina! I am!” Aunt Delia cries, her face a waterfall of tears.
“Explain!” I shout back as a gale force blows through me, shaking the walnut shutters on the windows while the furniture rattles in response to my fury.
“Damina, calm down!” Dalcour’s commanding tone is lost on me. As much as I want to unleash my fury on him for his attempt at controlling me, I refuse to take my eyes off my aunt. I need to know everything she knows, and I need to know now!
“I don’t know how he found me, but he must have tracked me down. Using your father’s name, Nicaud, must’ve lured him to our whereabouts. I’m sure his henchmen thought they were pursuing me, but they came in contact with your parents and you instead.”
“And so he had my parents killed?” I grumble, my eyes sharply fixed on Aunt Delia.
“I am so sorry, Damina!”
“And you’ve known all these years that it was your ex—Dacari’s father that was the cause of my parent’s death and you never told me? I’m almost thirty, Delia! How could you keep this from me?”
Staggering toward me with her hands clasped and pleading, Aunt Delia drops to her knees, wailing in pain. “I—I thought I was protecting you—both of you! I thought keeping the truth from you and Dacari would keep you from this—this supernatural world. I only wanted to keep you both from it and away from Decaux. I never wanted to hurt you, Damina!”
“What’s going on here?” I hear Jackson yell from behind me, but I don’t turn to face him. Peering over at Dalcour, I see his stance has stiffened as he watches my aunt bowing in tearful agony at my feet. He looks up and over my shoulder at Jackson and back toward me. But something is different.
While I haven’t fully grasped the full reach of my powers, I’ve become skillful in telepathy. Yet, I can no longer read Dalcour. His mind is closed to me. As much as I try to pry I cannot. He’s not letting me. Even worse, every attempt I make to break through his iron-clad fortress pains me like a sharp shooting migraine.
What is he keeping from me?
“What do you know of it, Dalcour? Did you know about this?” I shout, taking a step back and away from both Dalcour and my aunt.
“Damina, babe, what’s going on? We could feel the tremors all the way down in the training room at the CC,” Jackson questions with his hand now rested on my shoulder. And though anger rages through me, I am slightly comforted by the coolness of Jackson’s breath at my ear and the warm and inviting fragrance of his sweet and spicy scent seeping through his pores.
Dalcour stoops to the ground, wrapping his arm at Aunt Delia’s waist and rubs her shoulders, but he keeps his gaze locked on me and Jackson.
“Answer me, Dalcour! Tell me the truth for once!”
“For once?” Dalcour echoes, disbelief filling his eyes.
“Yes, for once! Now tell me, did you know your brother killed my parents? Is this just some other inconvenient information you’ve chosen to keep from me until you deemed appropriate?”
“What? Lord Marchand, tell me that’s not true!” Jackson pleads. Dalcour only glances at me and Jackson before pulling my aunt’s arm over his shoulder, attempting to steady her.
Slowly rising to her feet with Dalcour’s help, Aunt Delia wipes her face with her wrists and stammers toward me. Jackson squeezes my shoulders to hold me steady, likely fearful of a repeat of my response earlier today. But this time I have no instinct to run.
That time has passed.
“Damina, darling, please!” Delia begins. “This isn’t Dalcour’s fault. This is me. It is all me! He was after me.”
“And Dacari,” I seethe through my teeth.
“I suppose. I don’t know how he found out I was pregnant, but I’m sure he was furious when he realized what I’d taken from him,” she responds.
“Oh, and so do you also suppose he was so furious that he’d want to kill his own flesh and blood, Lord Marchand? Please do tell!” My spiteful rant does not go unnoticed by Dalcour as I spit my words past my aunt. Still, he remains staunch. An immoveable mountain. “What, Dalcour? Cat got your tongue?”
Dalcour’s skin reddens beneath his pecan-texture and his eyes ablaze in a fiery hue. A part of me fears the return of the beast I saw on our first night together after the ball. Yet, an equal and unsubdued part of me wishes the beast would make his return.
I wholeheartedly welcome the challenge.
Nonetheless, Dalcour remains an obstacle. The more I try to break through the veneer of his mind, the more painful it becomes for me. There is no ibuprofen powerful enough to evade the crash and burn panging through my head as I attempt to read Dalcour Marchand.
My aunt steps toward me, blocking my view of Dalcour, and lifts a single cautionary hand. “Damina, I know it must be hard for you to understand, but you must believe me when I tell you not a day has gone by that it didn’t tear me apart to know the part I played in your parent’s death. While yes, it’s true I kept this secret also away from Dacari, it’s you who lost the most. I know there is nothing I can do to take this pain away from you, but please know with everything in me, I am sorry. Please know I love you truly and I am sorry for everything.”
Aunt Delia’s voice cracks as she speaks, and I am instantly surprised that somehow, the hard shell forming at the center of my heart collapses. With every stuttering cry, I cannot help recalling vibrant memories of my aunt’s love toward me. Flashes of her teaching me to swim, skate, and tucking me in the bed at night flow through my mind. Flickering images of us dancing in the kitchen with Grandma Roux and Dacari puppeteer my heart strings, cracking the hard casing of my emotions.
My aunt has been more than an aunt. She mothered me. It is Aunt Delia who helped me become the woman I am today. Her only fault was falling in love with a monster and wanting to protect her child. And it is that child—my cousin Dacari, to whom my thoughts now belong. If nothing more than ripping her from the clutches of the monstrous viper that stole everything from me, I must douse the embers of fire burning within me.
This is about Dacari.
Not me.
And I refuse to let Decaux Marchand take anything else from me!
Fire-wrought tears blast from behind my eyelids as I pull away from Jackson’s firm hold, rushing into Aunt Delia’s welcoming embrace. Streams of water flow between us as I squeeze her tight with the warmth of our cheekbones meeting as I rest at the nape of her neck.
“It’s okay, Aunt Delia,” I confess with contrition. “I know how much you love me! You’ve shown me every day! I love you, auntie!”
Squeezing one another tight, it feels as though we’ve remained clasped for ten straight minutes. Maybe longer.
“Damina, how can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, auntie,” I begin, gently pulling away. “Of course, I wish you’d told me sooner. But even that wouldn’t change the fact that it was Decaux who took my parents away from me.”
“Well, he wasn’t alone. His henchmen—and she—”
“They don’t matter,” I interrupt, trying hard to comfort Aunt Delia. “All of it can be laid at the feet of Decaux Marchand. More importantly, the only thing that matters now is getting Dacari away from him. That’s the only thing that matters.”
Aunt Delia smiles as she takes hold of my face and kisses my forehead. A few more tears fall from her eyes, but this time she looks different. Lighter. It is as if a thousand tons have been lifted from her shoulders. I can only imagine how difficult it has been to carry around such a burden for so long. With Grandma Roux gone, I am sure the weight of it all became insufferable. But my aunt is the strongest woman I’ve ever known, and not even the threat of Decaux Marchand could hold her hostage.
Smiling back at her, I exhale with one singular thought: I come from good stock.
Looking over Aunt Delia’s shoulder, I feel a wispy air blow through the room and I now see Dalcour has disappeared.
“He left,” Jackson states in a low and throaty tone. “Are you okay, baby?”
Turning to see Jackson standing just beyond the doorway, I am surprised to find him without a shirt and only jeans. His skin glistens like diamonds with his sweat and his damp hair clings to his shoulders and it’s the sexiest image I’d never expect to find before me.
I instantly feel my mood lighten. At least a little.
“Um—where did he go?” I mutter, trying not to gawk at Jackson in front of my aunt.
A small smile etches beneath his thick goatee, reaching his eyes, and once more I feel the presence of Jackson Nash, stir the very core of me.
“I’m not sure, I didn’t notice. All my attention was on you,” he softly answers in response. His fragrance seems to penetrate every inch of my being so much that I feel it clinging to my skin—if that is even possible. A long pause hangs between us as whatever remained of my fitful rage buckles at his whim.
Exhaling once again, my ire dissipates as my eyes linger upon every inch of Jackson’s sculpted form before me and I am instantly lost in the awe of him. Air refills my lungs and the suffocating chokehold which held my state is gone at the sight of my ex-fiancé.
Yet, and despite everything, Jackson Nash is more than capable of both calming and weathering my storm. My, what this man does to me.
“Ah-hem, if you two will excuse me.” Aunt Delia’s willful interruption of the shared longing between Jackson and I don’t go unnoticed. “I—I um need to go freshen up. I’m sure I look a mess after all of this carrying on! Don’t worry, Damina. I know we still have things to flush out so we will finish our discussion,” Aunt Delia states as she excuses herself from the suite.
Chuckling at her awkward departure, Jackson and I keep our gaze set on each other for a few more minutes before he takes careful steps toward me. Gesturing to the bench at the foot of my bed, we both sit as he takes my hand in his.
“Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”
“Yes, Jack, I’m fine.”
Narrowing his eyes and tightening his lips, Jackson searches my face, taking my chin in his hand. “Damina? This is me you’re talking to now. I think I know more than anyone when you’re not okay.”
Lowering my eyes to avert his narrowed gaze, my attention falls to his chiseled chest and glorious abs and warmness erupts all over me. Once more, Jackson takes my chin in his firm grasp, holding me steady until our eyes meet.
“You’ve—um changed quite a bit since my slumber. You’ve always been fit and all—but—wait a minute! That brings up a good point. Why are you walking around the mansion half dressed, Jack?” I shoot him a scouring glare, but he doesn’t fall for my pretense and only smiles in response.
“Okay, so I see you’re avoiding the topic of you. Well, if you must know, I was down in the CC training with Mark. With the uptick in Scourge sightings and his upcoming valuation, he has a lot of learning to do. Besides, we couldn’t do much in the Civility Center tonight with all the Altrinion-Vamps and vampires making their way in for some sort of gathering.”
“Oh, that’s right. Mark did mention he’d be patrolling with you tonight.”
“Now, tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. Seems like you’re upset with Dalcour?”
“You know me well, Jack. Still, it’s kind of weird to talk about this with you,” I mumble, averting my eyes from his intense gaze.
“Baby, I know this is a weird time for us now—but no matter what we’ve always been able to talk with each other. Always.” Jackson smiles once more, and I know his words are sincere.
Knowing Jackson refuses to let up, I take in a deep breath, hopeful I’ll have the heart to tell him how I really feel—about another man. “Well it is not that I’m upset with him as much as I am confused and irritated. I mean, he blocked himself from me! He wouldn’t let me read him. Now why would he do that unless he had something to hide.”
Jackson stares at me for a few seconds, lets out a huge sigh, before patting his knees as he gets up from the bench and walks toward the window. Folding his arms, he narrows his gaze once more, breathing out another sigh as he parts his mouth to reply. “Well let me ask you something, Damina. Can you read my mind?”
“Jackson, you’re a wolf. You know telepathy doesn’t work on you.”
“And if we were all human, you wouldn’t be able to read his mind then either, right?”
“What are you getting at Jack? And why does it sound like you’re defending him?” I snap, rising to my feet.
“No need to cause an eruption, baby. I’m just stating the facts.”
“The facts? Well, the fact is his wretched brother Decaux is responsible for my parent’s deaths. All I wanted to know is whether he knew about this or not. He only had to tell me the truth!”
“And what if you didn’t like that truth? What then?”
Once more, the bastard frog has returned, and I have no words. I want to reply, but I cannot. Staring at Jackson, I am both perplexed and impressed he’s siding with Dalcour. Although I can’t imagine why.
“Damina, the truth is, that I’m much like Dalcour. Neither of us are capable of controlling our brother’s machinations. I have just about as much control over Keiron as Dalcour has over Decaux. No matter your grievance with Decaux, you can’t make it about Dalcour. As much as it pains me to admit this, I know that his affection for you is true. Even more, I know you feel the same.”
“Jack, I—”
“It’s okay, Damina. I’m by no means stepping aside, but I’m not a simpleton. Somehow in the brief time you two shared, you grew to love him and for that, I take full responsibility.”
“Jackson, please. I didn’t mean for any of this. I don’t want to hurt you—either of you.”
“I know, Damina. I know. But the truth is had I not allowed my brother’s interference we’d be married by now. And yes, you’d know the truth of your ancestry, but you’d learn it the right way. Not like this. Perhaps even Dacari wouldn’t be missing. Even that I lay at my feet.”
“No, Jack! You can’t take responsibility for all of this. I don’t blame you—”
“But you should! I do.”
Jackson turns away from me, looking between the window shutters. I can’t help admiring his lean torso and taut musculature of his back as he leans along the windowpane. Everything inside me is so torn between him and Dalcour, but nothing has doused the fervor of my feelings for him.
My, how I love this man!
“Jackson,” I softly reply, running my hands up the seam of his back. Small electric currents rivet through my fingers as I graze the fabric of his flesh, sending chills up my spine. As Jackson turns back toward me, my hands now rest at his chest and it takes every ounce of strength to contain every lustful impulse swarming through me.
“Yes, Damina.” Jackson’s gentle response sends a cool breeze of his aromatic scent through my nostrils and I inhale and savor every molecule as it floods the entirety of my being.
“You aren’t to blame for any of this. I know we have a lot to work through and we will sort this all out. Together. But all that matters is Dacari. I know that now.”
Taking my hand in his, Jackson closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You’re right, baby. That is precisely what you need to tell Dalcour. He deserves to know that as well. I saw you fight through your emotion and forgive your aunt. Now, you’ve got to do the same for him. No matter what you think, he’s holding back. Just trust he’ll tell you when he’s ready.”
I can hardly believe the man before me. Just when I did not think he could amaze me more than he already has, I sit here before him speechless. One thing is now clear. I am not the only one who has changed in our time apart. I do not know what kind of truce Jackson and Dalcour shared during my slumber, but I now know my choice between the two will be harder than I thought possible.