On his face was a ghost of a smile.
“You-you should not be here—out here,” Helena stammered.
“You are right, I should not be here. I should not… I should be…”
I should be with you.
He knew he had made a mistake. He was too late. But he was here now, and so is she. What was one more mistake?
His hands tightened around her arms. Pulling her closer to him, Matteo watched her every expression. He watched her eyes darken, he watched as she stopped fighting.
“Helena,” he whispered fiercely.
His lips met hers in a crushing kiss. It was a kiss that was meant to reach her soul, for it came from his own. When her hands clawed up his chest and clutched at his neck, entwined in his hair, Mateo felt as if he had conquered a mountain.
Every feeling he had for her, he poured into the kiss. And her every reaction, every sound she made, was like a benediction.
They only had now, and if that was all, they would have then. Matteo wanted Helena to know everything that was in his heart—even the things that he could not say out loud.
What started as a clash of lips slowed, gentled, until their lips parted from each other. In the darkness of the night, Mateo could see the intensity of her gaze.
He tried to speak, but Helena put a finger to his lips, silencing him. She shook her head and smiled a sad smile.
Understanding, Matteo nodded.
He felt her move away from him, and he loosened his hands on her arms. They glided along her skin until her hands caught in his. Matteo lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them, as hehad always been fond of doing. As in his heart, he would always do.
Matteo saw the tears run down Helena’s cheeks, lines of silver in the moonlight; they were nearly his undoing.
She pulled her hands from his and looked at him one last time. Then she turned and ran. Away from him, and away from them.
Matteo pressed his hand against his eyes. He had never known such pain, such longing. Such love. But this was his choice, this he did for her. And he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.
Goodbye, my love.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Morning was announced by the stream of sunlight that filtered through Helena’s window.
She groaned. Normally, she preferred to wake up to a bright room just like the one she was in now. It was the very reason why she kept the drapes open upon retiring for the night.
But today was a day that should have brought with it dark clouds and thunderstorms, not sunshine and birdsong.
What are you saying?
Helena scolded herself. Eyes now fully opened, she stared at the pattern of her canopy. The vines that twirled around each other offered no solace to the gnawing in her heart. Every morning for the past week had been like this, the gnawing would increase until Helena felt that she could endure no more.
The preparations—all the endless tasks had served as her distraction from the pain. A vacant minute was a minute to dwell, and those must be avoided at all costs.
But today there was nothing left to prepare for, nothing left to do but help Chastity dress for her wedding. And even there, Sally would be the primary helper.
Helena had envisioned this scene in her mind very differently. In it was an exuberantly happy Chastity. She would wake up before everyone else, jump on her sisters’ beds to tell them to wake up, for it was her wedding day. She would be full of hope, dreams, and life.
That was the Chastity of just a few months ago. How cruel life could be to change a girl so completely that she was almost unrecognizable.And so we have tried to save what could be saved.
And here we are.
Helena let out a long breath. She closed her eyes and tried with all her might to wield her mind’s influence over her heart and her body. Slowly, little by little. She forced herself to rise from her bed.
