Draven reached out and gently touched the crucifix around my neck, his fingers tracing the pendant. His touch was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the cold and otherworldly aura that surrounded him.
I batted his hand away from me, but he caught it quickly. “I see you have not taken this off yet.” He moved my hand, so my wedding ring flashed in the dim light.
“I must have forgotten,” I said, my voice a whisper in my throat.
“Rosalia,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. “I know this is all overwhelming for you. However, I need you to understand something. I never wanted this life. I never wanted to be what I am. But I am bound by it, and I cannot change what I have become.”
I looked into his eyes, searching for any signs of deception, and all I saw was a deep sadness. It was a sadness that mirrored my own, a longing for something we both knew was forever out of reach.
“I did not want to fall in love with you,” I confessed. “But I did. And I want to believe you, Draven. I want to believe that you will not hurt me. But I have already been hurtenough, and I cannot open myself back up again. I am afraid I am not strong enough.”
I couldn’t deny the connection between us, a connection that defied the darkness that threatened to consume us both. Draven moved closer, our lips almost touching.
His hand moved from my wrist to gently cup my cheek. His touch was delicate, as if he were holding something precious. “I will be patient, Rosalia,” he continued. “I will not ask you to be strong. Please know that I am here for you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to believe him and to have things go back to normal again. The crazy thing was that deep down through the layers of hatred and fear, I still loved him. I didn’t allow myself to dwell on that, as it felt like a betrayal of my beliefs.
“Draven, I cannot,” I said softly, and walked into my bedroom, closing the door with him still in the hallway.
Just as I was in the comfort of my bedroom, the door opened behind me. “You cannot keep walking away from me, Rosalia,” Draven said, his tone irritated.
The intensity of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to turn around. Instead, I stood my ground, clutching the crucifix around my neck as if it were the only thing keeping me anchored.
“Draven, please,” I implored, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. “I need space and time to process everything that has happened.”
He took a step closer, his presence looming behind me. “I understand that this is difficult for you,” he admitted, his voice softer now, carrying a hint of regret. “But you must comprehend that I cannot simply allow you to cast me aside. We are bound by more than mere vows, Rosalia.”
I turned to face him; my eyes locked with his. “Bound by what, Draven? Bound by secrets and deceptions? I mustdiscover who I am and what I truly desire, and I cannot achieve that with you perpetually by my side.”
Draven’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hurt and longing. “Bound by love, Rosalia,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of our ragged breaths. “Bound by the memories we have shared, the moments of joy and sorrow that have woven us together.”
I felt a pang in my ch est at his words, torn between believing him and the fear of being hurt again. “Love is not enough,” I murmured, as tears welled up in my eyes. “Not when it is tainted by bloodshed and betrayal.”
Draven’s expression faltered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I am willing to do whatever it takes to make things right, to earn back your trust.”
I wanted to believe him, to let go of the pain and anger that had consumed me since my mother’s death. But the wounds ran deep, too deep to heal with mere words.
“I need time, Draven,” I said softly, my voice tinged with sadness. “Time to heal, time to forgive.”
Draven nodded; his gaze filled with understanding. “I shall grant you all the time you require,” he promised, his voice steady despite the turmoil that flickered in his eyes. “I will always be here, waiting for you.”
He hesitated for a moment, and I waited for him to say something else. His posture remained straight, and with a heavy heart, I watched as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.
Alone once more, I sank to the floor, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket.
THIRTY-FIVE
January 25, 2010
The club throbbed with the rhythmic pulse of the music as I watched Connor perform on stage. Unease coiled in my bones, urging me to escape—to leave everything behind and vanish. Yet the weight of my mission anchored me.
Being here alone, without Vail, felt like a gamble, and the tension tightened my every nerve. When Connor texted me that morning, inviting me to watch his band rehearse, Vail had insisted I go.
“It would look suspicious if you didn’t,” she had said, her voice firm in the kitchen.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured me with a grin. “The other night proved my wards are solid. Promise you’ll text me often, so I know you’re okay.”
