Is the baby all right? Brandon asked Tessa, his brows lifted, his eyes round with worry. She sat against the edge of the bed while he knelt before her, draping his hands against hers at her knees and looking up into her face.
Yes. She nodded, brushing his knuckles lightly with her thumbs, struggling to smile at him in reassurance. I can still sense it and everything feels okay. I think I would know somehow…sense something different…if the baby was hurt.
He reached for her neck, tugging lightly against the high collar of her turtleneck sweater. Rene had bought it to help hide the bruises—dark violet splotches against the pale skin of her throat that formed ghostlike impressions of Martin’s hands. She tried to shrug away from her brother, but he eased the collar back enough to catch a glimpse.
Jesus, Tessa. Brandon leaned forward, drawing her into his arms. She tucked her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes against the sting of tears. I’m so sorry, he whispered helplessly in her mind. All of this time…all of these years. I wish you had told me. When he sat back, his eyes were hurt and confused. Why didn’t you?
“There was nothing you could do,” she said, cutting her gaze to her lap, knotting her hands together.
Nothing? Brandon hooked his fingertips under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His brows had narrowed, his mouth turned down in a frown. I would have killed that son of a bitch if I’d—
“And that’s exactly why I didn’t say anything,” Tessa cut in. “You would have gone after Martin and then the Grandfather would have gone after you. It’s not like you didn’t have enough trouble living in the great house and I…” Her voice faltered. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. There was no undoing it. I was stuck there.” She brushed his hair back from his brow and smiling sadly. “Kind of like with you and Caine.”
His eyes traveled along her face, from one bruised and battered place to another. “It’s all right,” she told him. “We’re safe now—all of us. You, me and the baby. They can’t hurt us anymore, Brandon.”
I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you, Brandon said. If Rene hadn’t been with you…if he hadn’t found you and Martin… He stood, forking his fingers through his dark hair, his expression strained. I don’t know what I would have done, he said again.
He walked away, standing before the closed drapes, his arms folded across his chest, his back to her. His posture was rigid with stress and, as always, it amazed Tessa how Brandon could communicate so much so well—all without saying a word. He was blaming himself, probably delivering a mental reaming and she rose to her feet.
Brandon… she began gently.
None of this would have happened if I’d just stayed in Kentucky, he said without looking at her. If I’d just gone through the goddamn bloodletting like you asked me to, like everyone fucking wanted. If I hadn’t run away, Lina’s life would still be normal, not like this—fucked up and on the run…Caine and Emily wouldn’t have followed me…you wouldn’t have, either. He turned, pained. Martin wouldn’t have done this to you.
“He would have hurt me anyway,” Tessa said. “He never needed a reason, Brandon, just like Caine never needed any to bully you. He’s a monster, just like Caine was. Just like you always said. And I never would have been brave enough to leave him if it hadn’t been for you.”
I never would have met Rene if it hadn’t been for you, she thought, closing her mind momentarily so Brandon wouldn’t overhear.
I should go, Brandon said. It’s getting late and we’ve been on the road all day. You need to sleep. The baby—
“Wait.” Tessa caught his arm. “There’s something else, something Martin told me.”
Brandon raised a curious brow. What?
“He said the Grandfather murdered Grandmother Eleanor,” she said and when his eyes widened in surprise, she nodded. “When he was choking me, he said that’s how Eleanor died, and then later…once Rene had him tied up, I asked about it and he told me. He said his father had witnessed the entire thing. Do you think it’s true, Brandon? Do you think the Grandfather could really do that? You know how much he loved Eleanor.”
Brandon’s brows narrowed slightly. I don’t think the Grandfather has ever loved anyone in his entire life. I don’t think the son of a bitch is capable. He shook his head. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he killed her. Frankly, I don’t give a shit either way.
Tessa bristled at this. “What the hell does that mean?”
Nothing, he replied. It means I’m tired and I need to go to bed before I say something I’ll be sorry about later. He moved to lean forward, kiss her cheek good night, but she startled him by giving him a shove.
“No, don’t do that. Don’t just make some smart-ass quip and then walk away or play it off, like you did that day in the dance studio years ago.” When he clearly didn’t remember this, to judge by the bewildered look on his face, her frown deepened. “You’ve had a problem with Grandmother Eleanor since we were sixteen years old, ever since she gave me that green sapphire pendant for my birthday. I know you were angry about that, jealous even, but—”
What? Brandon interrupted, his eyes widening again. I wasn’t jealous. Or angry, either.
“I saw you in the foyer,” Tessa said. “When Grandmother Eleanor must have told you she was going to give it to me. I was standing on the staircase and saw the whole thing—the way you reacted, how you pulled away from her.”
Brandon moved to walk around her. You don’t know what you’re talking about.
“I know you think she slighted you by giving it to me,” Tessa said, stepping directly into his path, blocking his way to the door. “I know you’ve acted angry with her ever since. But she loved us both, Brandon.”
Tessa. He locked gazes with her. You don’t know what you’re talking about. So just leave it alone.
He brushed past her, but she grabbed him by the sleeve, wheeling him forcibly about to face her. “I will not!” she exclaimed. “I think it’s high time we talked about this, Brandon—that you deal with it. It’s not fair for you to be angry with Grandmother Eleanor.”
You want me to deal with it? He frowned, jerking his arm away from her grasp. You don’t think I’m being fair? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Tessa. You don’t know anything—only some half-assed conjecture about what you think you saw that day on the staircase. And you’re wrong. You’re dead fucking wrong.
“Then tell me what I saw.” He kept trying to get by her; she kept preventing him. “Tell me, Brandon! I want to know. If you’re not mad at Eleanor for giving me the necklace—if you’re not jealous—then what have you been pissed about all these years? What did she say to you? Tell me!”
Get out of my way, Tessa, he told her with a frown.
“Not until you tell me,” she shot back.
I mean it—move, he said, and when he sidestepped, she cut him off.
“Tell me, Brandon. I want to know,” she said. “Tell me!”
It should have been you! Brandon snapped. Are you fucking happy now, Tessa? Grandmother Eleanor told me what happened to me—getting attacked, losing my hearing, getting my throat slit—it all should have happened to you!
And in her mind, he showed her, opening up his memories, letting them replay inside of her head like her own. Through Brandon’s eyes, she saw Eleanor on their sixteenth birthday, their grandmother cradling his face between her hands and leaning forward to press her full, cool lips against the corner of his mouth.
“Beautiful Brandon,” she murmured, smiling as she stroked her hand against his cheek, her fingertips trailing down to trace along the scar at his throat. Brandon hadn’t been able to hear her voice, but he’d read her lips; her words whispered through his mind, soft and intimate. “Such a pity, what happened to you. Such a waste.”
She met his gaze, wearing a sweet but melancholy smile. “I wish it had been Tessa instead,” she remarked. “A Brethren man should be strong—speak his mind and stand his ground, especially a Noble. Women don’t need to hear or speak to make babies, no matter their clan. And, in the end, isn’t that really all Tessa can ever hope to accomplish?”
At this, Brandon had recoiled, startled and dismayed, and that was what Tessa had seen from the stairs.
When Brandon snapped his mind closed to Tessa, it was like a heavy steel door slamming abruptly shut in her face. She stumbled back, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.
Women don’t need to hear or speak to make babies, no matter their clan.
Eleanor’s words echoed in her mind, stabbing into her stunned heart again and again like the point of some cruel and relentless knife.
…in the end, isn’t that really all Tessa can ever hope to accomplish?
Her hands darted to her belly, to the baby growing inside of her womb. “Oh, God,” she whispered. Oh, God, is that all she thought of me?
She remembered Eleanor giving the necklace to her, how she’d smiled at Tessa’s surprise, and entertained none of Tessa’s sputtered protests. “Sweet sixteen is more special for girls,” she’d said.
But she didn’t think I was special, she thought, her eyes welling with tears. Not then, not ever…oh, God, not at all.
Tessa… Brandon reached for her, round-eyed and remorseful. Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to…I didn’t mean…
He tried to touch her, but she shrugged him away. “Get out.”
I didn’t want you to know that, he pleaded. I didn’t mean for you to see, Tessa. I was angry and I’m tired and I…it just slipped…
She pointed one shaking hand toward the door. “Get out, Brandon. Just…just go away. Leave me alone.”
Tessa… He tried to touch her again but she recoiled.
“Get out!” she cried. “Get out, Brandon! You get the hell out of my room!”
Tessa, please…
Again, he reached for her and this time she shoved him back. “Get out!” she cried again. “Just go away!”