Bloodrose (16 page)

“Don’t.” I didn’t trust myself to be this close to him. I’d already slipped up with Shay, letting myself give in when I’d promised that I’d keep my distance. If I did the same with Ren, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. And part of me knew I wanted Ren to touch me now because I’d spent last night alone in a fitful half slumber, hoping Shay would knock softly at my door. But he never had. The further Shay was drawn into the Searchers’ world, the more he slipped away from me.

“Just listen, Calla.” His eyes wouldn’t let me go. “Do you remember when we were at Eden?”

I nodded, too uneasy to speak. I didn’t know if I’d even be able to hear my own words over the pounding of my heart. That night at Eden felt like a lifetime ago; I couldn’t imagine why Ren would bring it up now.

“You asked if I was afraid of anything,” he said.

“I remember.” I pulled my lower lip between my teeth as the memory caught in my mind. “You said one thing.”

“One thing.” He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Only one thing that I’d always been afraid of. I still am.”

My body was frozen against the wall, locked in place by his words. “What?”

His voice quaked. “That you could never love me. Not really.”

“Ren—” My hands were shaking.

“I couldn’t miss the whispers,” he said. “The way some of the Banes looked at me. The way my father . . . I mean, Emile . . . talked about my mother. She was dead, but it was like he still hated her. It was obvious, even to me, that when they were together he ruled her, but there wasn’t any love.”

My breath became shallow. I didn’t know if I could bear to hear this, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.

His lips were brushing my ear. “The first time I saw you, when we were promised to each other, I swore I wouldn’t force you to love me, but I would find a way to win you.”

Something inside me snapped. “If you wanted to win me, why did you spend all of high school dating other girls?”

There was more spite in my question than I’d anticipated. All that waiting, not being able to follow my own passions while I watched Ren chasing his. I resented it. It made his confession seem unfair and maybe even untrue.

He leaned his forehead against my temple. “I thought if you saw other girls wanting me, but knew that I only really wanted you, it would make a difference.”

A soft growl rose in my throat. “Sabine’s right. You are a moron.”

“Would it help if I agreed with you?” He smiled, but his eyes were hard.

I turned my face away from him, anger, hope, desire all battling within me. “You could have told me how you felt.”

“I was going to,” he said. “I wanted to tell you when I gave you the ring . . . but I choked.”

I looked at him, saw he was blushing, and knew everything he’d said was true.

“I . . .” Words wouldn’t come. What could I even say?

“All I’m asking for is a fair shot. Or maybe a fresh start, but I needed you to know where I’m coming from,” he said. “I know the odds are against me. Shay swooped in and changed your life. He saved you.”

“I saved him. And myself.”

“I just meant that he’s been the hero all along. Of course you’d want him. But the history we have, our past. Not all of it was bad.”

“I know that.”

“You can’t tell me that when we were at the house, alone, a part of you didn’t want to stay.”

I gripped the towel tighter so I wouldn’t drop it. He was right. At least partly. I was still drawn to him—the one who was so obviously my counterpart. The mate I’d thought I would spend my life with. I was afraid to let go of the past that kept us bound together. That road was familiar. I knew what life with Ren would be, where I fit into that picture, and that I cared deeply for him. The temptation to keep him close nipped at me relentlessly.

“We were always meant for each other, Calla,” he said, and I shivered, feeling as if he’d read my mind. “Let me show you what it could be like.” His lips barely touched mine. I couldn’t resist any longer and let my fingers trace the contours of his chest. He growled softly, twisting his hands in my damp hair as he kissed me. My fingers slid down, skimming his abdomen, finding the edge of the towel wrapped around his hips. He kissed me harder, urging me on.

The bathroom door swung open and Connor swaggered in, shirtless and wearing pajama pants, with a towel slung over one shoulder. He stopped whistling when he caught sight of Ren’s bare back and me pressed up against the wall.

“Oh gods! My eyes!” Connor covered his face. “My innocence!”

“Shut up, Connor,” I said, both relieved and disappointed by the interruption. I squirmed out from under Ren, pretty much leapt across the open area to the dressing room door, and flung myself inside. Pulling on my clothes in a rush before fleeing from the bathroom, I was mortified. As I hurried down the hall, past more sleepy-eyed Searchers heading for a hot shower, I tried to tell myself I couldn’t still hear Connor laughing.

MY STOMACH WAS RUMBLING,
but I was still on edge from my chance encounter with Ren in the baths. I couldn’t risk running into Shay when my feelings were so scattered . . . and when it was likely Ren’s scent was clinging to my skin.

I’d learned how powerful desire was, and love even more so, but it still frustrated me that I could lose control when my blood ran hot.

Since I’d nixed the idea of joining the Haldis team for breakfast, I headed into the courtyard in search of fresh fruit. Considering how early it was, I was surprised to find Ansel picking oranges from a small grove.

“Morning.” He smiled at me.

“Any chance I could get one of those?” I said, pointing at his half-full basket.

“Sure.” He tossed me one.

“You’re up early.” I began to peel the orange.

His shoulders tensed. “Sleeping isn’t easy.”

I chewed on a segment of the fruit, enjoying the bright burst of citrus on my tongue. The orange was juicy, perfect.

Ansel stayed quiet, pulling oranges off the branches.

“You seem better,” I said slowly.

“Do I?”

I coughed, choking a little on the orange juice. Ansel’s voice had that tinny quality that had made my bones ache when we’d first learned how the Keepers had punished him.

“You’re not . . . feeling okay?” I asked.

He turned to face me. While his eyes weren’t hollow, the way they’d been in Denver, they were hopeless.

“I’ll never be okay, Calla,” he said, turning an orange in his hands. “Not really.”

“But . . .” I stared at him, wishing he wouldn’t say things like that. Wanting to believe this was some sort of self-pity . . . but I knew it wasn’t. “But Bryn.”

“I love Bryn,” he said. “And I can’t stand seeing her in pain.”

I watched his face. He looked older than the little brother I knew. Older and angrier.

“You’re pretending to be okay so you don’t hurt her.”

He nodded. “She seems to think she still loves me. I tried to break it off, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Don’t you want to be with her?” I asked.

“I’ll always love her,” Ansel said. “But I’m not a good match for her. She deserves more.”

“How can you say that?” I wanted to scream at him but with a lot of effort forced an even tone. “You’re the same person.”

“I’m not.” Ansel squeezed the orange, his fingernails digging into its peel. “Believe me. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” I said. “And Bryn loves you.”

“I’m not her equal, not anymore. You can’t have a match without a true partnership. You of all people should understand that.”

“Of course I do.” I frowned. “But you’re wrong about this. I already told you, Searchers and Guardians have been together in the past. They’ve had families.”

“I know.” Ansel’s smile was spiteful. “I’ve heard. From you. From Tess. Searchers and Guardians. Monroe and Corrine. Him and her, her and him.”

“So what’s the problem?” I’d crushed the rest of the orange segments in my fist. Juice leaked out between my knuckles. “It works. That was real love, real partnerships. People died for them.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, lowering his gaze.

“Why?”

“Because I wasn’t born a Searcher. I don’t have their power.” He looked at me again, gray eyes furious like a storm. “All I am is less than what I was. And I can’t ever be more. Eventually Bryn will realize that. And she’ll leave. It will be for the best.”

“What if she doesn’t?” I stared at the pulped mess of orange lying in my palm and felt like I could be staring at Ansel’s ravaged heart. “What if she wants to be with you and have a family?”

“Where I’d play dad to a pack of wolf pups?”

“That’s how it works,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “Tess explained that whole essence-of-the-mother thing. But the biology or magic or whatever it is doesn’t matter. It’s not whether Bryn and I are able to be together or make a family. It’s about whether we should be.”

“Just give it time, Ansel.” I didn’t know what else to say. I hated the desperation in his voice, the finality.

“I promise I’ll never hurt Bryn,” he said. “I won’t tell her how I really feel. I’ll be with her when she needs me, and when she wants to, I’ll let her go.”

We stood there, staring at each other. There was nothing else to say.

Ansel smiled, all emptiness, handing me another orange. “You still need to eat your breakfast. You murdered the first orange.”

“Thanks.” I managed to push the word past the thickness of my throat.

“There you are!” Bryn’s voice turned me around. She was skipping up the path, beaming. “Sorry—I took an extra-long shower. All-natural heaven! The Searchers really should find a way to market that stuff. I’m going to talk to Tess about it. Smell my skin—I’m roses and thyme!”

He turned to her and I saw it happen. The mask went up, transforming my broken brother into the Ansel we’d always known.

I couldn’t be there, not in that moment. I didn’t want my face to give anything away to Bryn. Making an excuse about having to meet with Anika, I hurried away from them, trying to distract myself by scarfing down my orange. But I’d only made it halfway across the garden when I ran into another reminder of how unsettled everything in my life had become.

Connor lounged on a stone bench next to the path. His shirt was unbuttoned. His chest, carved hard muscle, was crisscrossed by scars. Scars that I recognized.

I thought about turning around but realized I needed to clear the air or at least my own conscience with him.

“So how many Guardians do you think you’ve killed?”

“I’ve been trying to cut back,” he answered without opening his eyes. “But they’ve all been kind enough to leave me souvenirs, as you can see.” He brushed his hand across the scarred flesh.

I crouched on the bench next to him, letting sunlight warm my neck and shoulders. My pulse had set off at a gallop, but I forced myself to follow through on what I wanted to say.

“About what you saw this morning . . .” The gentle warmth I’d felt became a prickling heat as blood rushed into my neck and cheeks.

“Hey, no judgment,” Connor said. He folded his arms behind his head, tilting his face up so he could peer at me. “Though if we lose the Scion because you can’t keep your pants on, there’ll be hell to pay. Literally.”

When I snarled, he laughed.

“I wasn’t ever going to ask you about your steamy rendezvous, sweet cheeks,” he said. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

I wrapped my arms around my shins, resting my chin on my knees. “I just wanted you to understand.”

He sat up, one corner of his mouth crinkling. “Understand what, exactly?”

“That Shay, Ren, and I are in a complicated situation.”

“Complicated, eh?” His smile widened. “I thought it was all pretty clear. Two guys get you hot. You’re going to have to choose one.”

“That’s not all—”

Connor cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Sure, there’s always the nitty-gritty details, but it boils down to the basics. One of you, two of them. Love’s a bitch.”

“Nice.” I wished I could call him a liar, but his reduction of my life story was a little too logical.

“Look, sweetheart, I can’t cast any stones. Just callin’ it like I see it.” He pushed his chestnut hair out of his face. It was still damp from the shower. He’d already begun to tan after a few days under the Mediterranean sun. The bronze of his skin made the white zags of scar tissue appear to leap off his chest.

“You mean all your awesome pickup lines are just talk?” I grinned. “Who’d have guessed?”

He threw a sidelong glance at me but didn’t answer.

“You know what I think?”

One of his eyebrows went up.

I leaned toward him. “I think all that off-color chatter of yours is just a way to distract you from the fact that there’s only one person you’re interested in.”