Juliette's sapphire blue eyes met his in the dimly lit hallway. She turned to him and buried her face in her hands. He could sense the emotions pouring through her, just as dark and dangerous as that river out there. Bringing her here hadn't been a good idea. He should have known about her family. He should have known she wasn't ready to face her demons.
But when would she be ready to face them? the voice asked. There's no time like the present. He shouldn't have pushed her.
“I can't go through this again, André. I just—can't.”
“Go through what?” he asked and shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't pull her into his arms. He had a feeling she needed her space.
“You. Us. It ended…so horribly last time. I don't want to feel that kind of pain again. But every second I'm with you…makes me long for you again. And I—“
“You've never been the type to separate sex and your emotions,” he supplied. “I agree with you. But I also remember why it ended last time.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit it between her teeth. He reached out then and cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned into his touch, unsure what to believe.
“Your family isn't here now to call me a liar. But they're not around to tell you to stay away from me either. So I'll say it for them. Stay away from me, Juliette. I'm not the man you once knew.”
Her jaw dropped open and her eyebrows rose.
“What…what do you mean? Are you admitting—?”
“No. I didn't kill your brother. I swear on your life that I did not kill Leon.” He let his hand drop to his side. Damn, she was beautiful, even with tears in her eyes.
“What do you mean, André? How are you not the man I knew?”
He turned back to the raging river. His demons danced around him, laughing. Past and present collided. Had it gotten darker since they'd arrived?
“Years ago your beauty enchanted me. And I believed that we could overcome anything. I believed that you loved me enough to run away with me, to leave everything behind. To take a leap of faith, Juliette. I was wrong.”
A strangled sob tore from her throat and he didn't dare look at her. He couldn't cave now. He ground his teeth together.
“You have to understand—” He could hear the tears in her voice.
“I understand completely.”
“But you admitted—”
“Think carefully, Juliette. You were crying. Pleading with me.” He glanced at her then. “Much like you are right now. Pleading with your eyes. Begging me to take away the pain. To make it stop. You believed that I'd murdered him. They'd convinced you of it.”
“No,” she cried, shaking her head as a fat tear ran down her flawless cheek.
“Yes.” His hand sliced through the air, cutting off her denial. “Yes. They'd convinced you. You'd have me believe there was a kernel of hope left? Of doubt?”
“Yes!”
Her passionate cry rang in his ears, and he studied her for several moments as the silence stretched between them.
“No. You may have that kernel of doubt now, but it wasn't there then. If it had been, then maybe none of this mess would have ever happened. But I told you what you wanted to hear. I asked you what you wanted me to say. Do you remember?”
Even now he felt sick bringing all this up again. His heart ached and his stomach soured. She just leaned against the door, shaking her head, trying to deny the truth.
Her denial fueled his anger.
She had to hear this, all of it. He had to make her believe. Because only then could she get on with her life and he with his. He gripped her upper arms, forcing her to look at him.
“I asked you what you wanted me to say. I pleaded with you. I asked you if you wanted to hear me say it.” Once again he felt his heart, what was left of it, breaking in two. “Would that make you feel better? Would that solve things for you? Could you put the pieces of your perfect life back together? Yes, I said. Yes, I killed him. And then I said goodbye. Do you remember, Juliette?”
“Like it was yesterday! Why are you doing this? Making me remember?”
“I left then. Because I thought that's what you wanted. What you needed.” He stalked away and ran his fingers through his hair. Dieu. “Somewhere deep down I'd hoped that you would come to your senses, that you'd realize the truth and that you'd come after me.” He stopped. “But instead you sent your brothers.”
“My brothers?”
“Oui, cheri. Did you tell them what I said word for word? Or just the part where I admitted to killing your precious brother?” he asked, facing her with his hands on his hips.
She held her hand to her lips and shook her head. “I didn't tell them anything.”
“I want to believe you.”
“What—?” She cleared her throat. “What did they do?”
He looked away. “I won't degrade them in death by telling you. Your memories of them should remain happy.”
“André, tell me.” She reached out to him then. “Please. Please tell me.”
He stepped forward and took her hand. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
He took a deep breath. Prayed he was doing the right thing by telling her. “They came after me. Three of them. I told them I wouldn't fight them. I wasn't going to kill one of your brothers for real. It would have destroyed you. They beat me until I passed out. When I came to I was in the middle of the Mediterranean, watching their boat sail away.”
He struggled to remain emotionless. To tell what happened without reliving every painful punch, without remembering the clawing panic he'd felt when the waves had crashed over his head.
Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks and she cupped his cheeks in her hands.
“No. Please, André. No?”
The last word was a question, and he could read it in her eyes. Part of him wanted to save her from the pain. Again. But look where that had gotten them.
“Sorry, princess. This story doesn't have a happy ending. I'm alive, that's about as good as it gets.”
“I'm so sorry, André,” she whispered and raised up on her tiptoes. Then she pressed her lips against his, as if her kiss could soothe his wounds.
The sixth sense that had saved his ass more than once alerted him to the presence of something dark, dangerous in the room. Anger coiled around them. He held Juliette close, letting the beast inside him rush forward, ready to fight, protect.
“Isn't this charming?”
Juliette gasped and spun away from him. André turned toward the eerily familiar voice to find Jacque Vassar standing a few yards away. His hair was long and shaggy, his eyes bloodshot and lifeless. The cargo pants hugging his hips were hopelessly stained and ripped. He was shirtless, a wiry physique packed full of muscle.
André remembered him well. He had always been more brain than brawn, and never quite right in the head. It was his voice that André heard in his head whenever he remembered that night so long ago. Jacque was the ringleader that had come after André.
“Jacque?” Juliette cried. She started toward her brother but André instinctively pulled her back to his side.
“You're alive and well,” André said.
“That I am.”
“Ask him how he escaped, cheri.” She looked up at him, her smile faltering. André had a bad feeling that Jacque hadn't escaped a madman at all. He was the madman. The one who'd murdered the rest of her family.
“How did you escape, little brother?”
Jacque cocked his head to the side and studied them. “Your mate is right, Juliette, you should stay away from him.”
André could sense a change in the other man, an increased aggression. He pushed Juliette behind him. “That's not gonna happen, wolf.”
“I should have killed you a long time ago, Deveraux.”
Juliette's gasp echoed through the room and she stepped toward her brother. “It's true?”
“He killed our brother!” Jacque spat at André's feet.
“No, he didn't.” Juliette fired back.
“Why don't you tell her who really killed Leon?” André said.
Juliette turned to André with wide eyes, disbelief written all over her face. Her jaw dropped.
“While you're at it, why don't you tell her who's responsible for the death of Vassar Pack?”
“What have you done, Jacque?”
“I hate that question,” he said, enunciating each word. “Do you know how often I heard that growing up? Always living in everyone's shadow. Always the little brother. I'm not so little any more, am I?”
His eyes turned an unnatural color, bright and yet stormy.
“You did it, didn't you?” Juliette asked, sounding as if she didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. “You killed them…”
“Sweet Juliette...you should have stayed away. You were safe in France.” His hand moved from behind his back, holding a gleaming silver sword.
The beast inside André roared to life and he let it take over, snapping his bones, stretching his muscles until a towering monster glared down at the puny human. Jacque, as arrogant as he was drunk, held the sword above his head, glancing back and forth between André and Juliette as if he couldn't decide who his target was. His indecision would cost him.
André lunged. They landed on the far side of the foyer. Jacque struck André in the back with the hilt of the sword, and tried to punch him in the gut. André sliced Jacque's belly with his claws. Grunts echoed through his mind as they rolled around the entryway. He bit down, blood filled his mouth and a mournful wail filled the air.
A sharp pain burned through his arm. He used his other to rip a hole in the other man's chest. A solid punch to his jaw jerked his head to the side. Years of fights had taught him how to fight dirty, how to win. Jacque scrambled on top of him, the tip of the sword aimed at André's chest. He bucked hard and sent Jacque flying through the front door. André leapt to his feet and vaulted over the porch, catching the other man around the waist. Snarling and snapping, he punched and sliced at his opponent. From the corner of his eye he saw Juliette standing on the porch, her arms wrapped around her, tears rolling down her cheeks. The tiniest shred of humanity pulled him from the darkness, the hatred.
André's arm gushed blood. Juliette knew what she had to do. Anger, disbelief and fury battered her, threatened to consume her, but through her rage she knew the truth. She knew who'd betrayed her. She knew what had to be done. Justice for Leon. For the Vassar Pack and for the years she and André had lost.
Her bones started to pop as she let her were take over. Her teeth sharpened, ready to rip the flesh from her brother's body. To taste his blood. To make him pay.
“André, stop!” she cried while she still had a voice. He clawed at Jacque, knocking him backwards into the mud. He turned to her then looking completely lethal.
Power coursed through her, completing her change. She took a step forward just as André cried out, pain contorting his face. Jacque’s sword protruded from his belly.
She roared with fury, her cry competing with the storm overhead. André dropped to his knees as Jacque withdrew the blade. She lunged, grabbing her brother's wrist, biting clear to the bone, ignoring his attempts to shake her loose. She used every ounce of her strength, every drop of hate and disappointment that had poisoned her for so long and used it against him until she'd bit all the way through his arm.
She ignored the taste of his flesh and the bitter blood on her tongue. Nor did she listen to her brother's screams as they filled her ears. It was too late. He couldn't plead for his life. She wouldn't have listened anyway. She grabbed the sword in her claw-tipped hands and with the speed and grace her kind was known for, she spun, her arm and sword acting as one, slicing clean through her brother's neck.
As his body fell, a howl erupted from her lungs. Grief buckled her knees and she sank into the muck, the sword dropping from her hand. Deep racking sobs claimed her as she returned to her human form. She cried for all the sorrows in her life. All that she'd lost. Everyone she'd loved.
Her tears mixed with the rain. She cried until she could cry no more. As a child she’d learned to hate such weakness, but couldn’t help herself now.
Beside her, André groaned.
“André?” She turned to him then. He lay there in his human form, his blood coloring the mud. He leaned up, sucking in a sharp breath. He looked at Jacque's headless body and then into her eyes.
“Oh, cheri.” His tender words were her undoing. A fresh wave of pain swept through her. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth.
“I had to….I had to,” she repeated, more to herself than him. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. “Gone. Everything's gone.”
“I know,” he said quietly, in that calming voice of his.
“I couldn't let him kill you too. I couldn't.”
André watched as her face crumpled and tears fell. Her pain was a living thing. He reached out to her. She collapsed in his arms, buried her face against his neck, sobs shaking her to the core.
Wind screamed through the trees. He closed his eyes for a moment and just held her, soaked up her warmth, let her tears wash over his skin. It was cleansing. And for a few moments, the whole world fell away until it was just the two of them again, together in each others arms. Wrapped up in each other. Comforting each other.
He felt her heartbeat thumping against his chest, the pace slowing each minute she lay against him. Her sobs stopped and she let out a shuddering breath.
“I couldn't do it,” he said, surprised as much at the words as the fact that he'd said them aloud. But it was true. He couldn't have taken Jacque's life, no matter how much he'd craved to do so. Killing the bastard would have been one more thing standing between him and Juliette. One more reason for her to hate him.
But now that she knew the truth, would she still hate him? The question made him uncomfortable. What if she didn't hate him, what then? Could they be...friends? Lovers? Could they go back to the way things had been?
No. They could never go back.
He wasn't sure he'd want to. Twice he'd tried to open his heart to another woman. And both times he'd been unable to do so. He knew now the reason. His heart wasn't his own. After all this time, it still belonged to Juliette.
He opened his eyes and stared at the dark clouds looming overhead, watched the big fat drops of rain fall to the earth. He needed a new plan. And they needed to get the hell outta Dodge.
He smoothed a hand down her back.
“You gonna be okay, cheri?” She nodded against his chest. “Why don't we go inside and clean up?”
She was as naked as he was. Slowly she sat up and glanced toward her brother's body. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Mud smudged her cheek. His gaze traveled over her creamy skin, down her shoulders to her breasts. Her nipples were hard, begging for his lips. Water dripped from the rosy tips. She could have been Aphrodite pulled from the sea. He felt a stirring in his blood as lust sizzled through his veins. But now wasn't the time. He had a body to bury.
After bringing in her luggage he headed out into the storm to find a shovel. Then he started toward the row of stones overlooking the churning river and began digging at the far end. He knew what those stones meant, what it had cost Juliette to bury her own family there.
As his injury healed, he dug faster, eager to be done. And once he’d hauled Jacque’s lifeless body to the hole and covered him, André stood there for a moment, gazing down at the freshly turned earth. He felt no sorrow that one of his kind was dead. Only the oddest sense of relief. Almost like a small part of him had been set free. Somehow, life would never be the same. The truth had finally been set free. And the bastard who’d caused him so much trouble…so much heartache and pain, was at last gone forever. He could only haunt them in memories now.
But he also knew that Jacque was Juliette’s brother. Her last remaining family. And so he headed for the river’s edge and found a large irregular stone and positioned it at the head of the grave.
Soaked to the bone and caked with mud, he walked back to the house. Wind twisted around him in bursts, shaking the trees and shooting the rain. As nasty as the storm was, it was cleansing too. Refreshing as it washed away the dirt and blood.
Juliette stood at the back door, dressed in a black skirt and silky looking top, her arms crossed over her chest.
“It's over.” Her words were quiet, solemn. “All this time he lead me to believe that you were responsible—” Her words ended on a sob. Her eyes were full of tears and agony. She held one hand to her lips, the other splayed against her stomach. “Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening.”
Her breathing became shallow and quick. Obviously overcome with grief, she passed out. He caught her easily, was getting used to feeling her in his arms again, carrying her high against his chest as if it were where she belonged. He carried her through the house and out the front door to the SUV. After settling her in the passenger's seat, he grabbed a change of clothes and went back inside for her bags. He dressed in slacks and a button up shirt, then plucked her mother's picture from the parlor wall and grabbed the single towel hanging on the stove. Back in the car he toweled his hair dry.
She didn't rouse as he pointed the vehicle toward the main road. Nor was she awake when they crossed over to Florida. What a day. What a crazy, fucked up day. He felt numb, his heart sore. She shouldn't have had to choose like that, between her brother and him.
Though the rain still fell from the sky, the world seemed almost calm around them. The big vehicle ate up the miles, putting more and more distance between them and Savannah. He was almost afraid for her to wake up. But for the first time today, he thanked God that he'd been with her when she went to the homestead. There were some things a person shouldn't have to face alone. A psychopath hell bent on finishing a massacre was definitely high on the list. That wolf had wires crossed in his head. He'd never been right.
André glanced in the side mirror and vowed to stop thinking about the lunatic he'd buried just before nightfall.
Outside of Pensacola he stopped for food. Famished, he ordered six hamburgers and two extra large drinks. As he waited at the drive-thru he wondered if Juliette had eaten anything other than chocolate today. He found it ironic that a werewolf family owned a chocolate empire. And stranger still was Juliette's addiction to cheap chocolate. There must have been ten pounds of Milky Ways in her carry-on.
He was torn between the desire to take care of her and the knowledge that she had the very real power to break his heart all over again...if he let her.
Raking his hands through his hair he stared up at the ceiling. She'd said she couldn't go through it again. But the chemistry crackling between them had been stronger than any he'd ever known. But with that heightened emotion, the incredible physical connection had come an equally incredible pain. A loss that had brought him to his knees. Could he risk feeling that way again? Did he dare open himself up to that again?
Taking the big bag of burgers and the drinks, he glanced at the sleeping woman in the seat next to him. He'd have to play this one close to his chest, give nothing away. It was her turn to lay her cards on the table.