She shuddered, his touch making her skin crawl. She didn’t answer.
“What do you think? Would you like it if I bit you?”
Panic rose in her belly, in her chest.
“Rhys wouldn’t like it if I bit you,” he said softly, not looking in her eyes, but at the spot where his finger drew a little circle against the side of her neck. “He wouldn’t like it one bit.”
She swallowed, trying to remain calm. “I think you’ve been asking the wrong questions.”
His finger paused, and his eyes met hers. He smiled sardonically. “And what questions should I be asking?”
She swallowed again. “Maybe you should be asking if it was
Lilah
who liked Rhys biting her.”
His smile disappeared, and his eyes narrowed into a frigid glare. “You didn’t know
Lilah
. She was madly in love with me. She’d never have gone to Rhys willingly.”
“But I do know Rhys. And he’d never hurt his brother. He loves you, and misses you. He aches to have his family back.”
Christian laughed, the sound cold, hard. “You don’t know anything about this.” He leaned closer. “And you don’t need to. But you are going to help me show my brother how I’ve felt all these years. How I still feel.”
She gaped up at him. Fear strangled her. What did he mean? What was he going to do?
He touched a hand to her hair, running his fingers through the strands, gentle, almost tender. “Rhys needs to understand what he’s done.”
Suddenly, his fingers yanked her hair hard, snapping her head back at a painful angle until her neck was fully exposed.
She whimpered.
“And killing you, Janie, is the best way I can think of to make my point.”
Before she could speak or cry out, his teeth sank deep into her neck. She didn’t feel any pleasure—only pain and mind-numbing fear.
Blinding terror gripped Rhys. He struggled out of bed, the fear so strong his limbs were weak with it.
He shoved the fear aside and concentrated. Jane was in the library. She was in pain. She was scared.
He fumbled with his pants,
then
raced toward the room where he knew she was—and he knew, too, who else was with her.
Don’t let this be happening
, his mind begged.
As he raced down the hallway, he heard Sebastian’s door open, and he heard Sebastian following behind him.
Please, please, let her he okay. Please.
At first, Christian didn’t recognize it. He sucked in the initial warm gush of Jane’s blood, and the flavor filled his mouth.
Sweet and delicate.
But the more he drank of her, the stronger it got.
Suddenly, he
wasn’t just tasting
her blood. He was feeling her. Her emotions were his, her thoughts. His knees started to buckle under the power of it.
He caught himself, bracing a hand on the wall behind her, refusing to stop. This was the revenge he’d waited for.
Longed for.
He wouldn’t stop.
But her emotions bombarded him. Pain, fear, but much, much stronger than either of those was something that was unfamiliar. The “thing” he tasted as soon as he bit her. A feeling he couldn’t understand. But he responded to it.
Helpless to do otherwise.
Suddenly the nebulous emotion shaped in his head.
Took a form.
Found a name. It echoed through his mind.
Love.
He could feel Jane’s love throughout him like wave after wave of warmth, all around him, curling over his skin. The love she felt for Rhys.
A fated love.
A true love.
How could this be unfamiliar? He’d loved
Lilah
.
Lilah
had loved him. Why didn’t he immediately recognize the taste of it on his tongue?
Because he’d never tasted this in
Lilah’s
blood, his mind told him. Even as he denied it again, he knew it was true. He’d never tasted sweetness or caring. He’d never felt warmth that encircled him.
Held him.
Just greedy hunger.
Constant craving.
Had he somehow mistaken that for love?
He stopped feeding and looked down at Jane. Now barely conscious, she hung limply in his arms. But even in her unaware state, he could still sense that her connection with Rhys was intact.
Calling to him.
Christian had never felt that with
Lilah
.
Lilah
had never reached out.
Never connected to him.
And he’d never been able to reach her. Not like this.
He shook his head angrily and repositioned his fangs over Jane’s neck. He could have had this with
Lilah
. It was Rhys who had ruined that. He was the one who’d destroyed everything.
But even as he returned his teeth to Jane’s throat, he knew it wasn’t true.
Lilah
hadn’t ever, ever felt like this.
Christian lifted his head again, staring at the woman in his arms.
His brother’s love.
His brother’s mate.
But now, she looked like a broken angel in his embrace.
A wretched sound escaped him. What had he done? What had he spent years believing?
He scooped Jane up into his arms and crossed to the sofa. He laid her among the cushions, unsure what to do.
Confused without the rage that had driven him for years.
Then the door slammed open, and Rhys charged into the room. His eyes were wild as he searched for Jane, barely registering Christian at all.
He found her, running to her.
Kneeling beside her.
His hands shook as he touched her hair, her face, her neck.
He stared at his hand, now covered with Jane’s blood. He saw the jagged wound oozing just below her right ear.
He rose then and spun toward Christian.
“What have you done?” His voice was low and filled with rage. “What have you done?”
He charged at Christian.
Christian accepted the blow, which knocked him hard against the bookshelves behind him. Several books fell to the ground around him.
Rhys hit him again. This time, Christian fell to the hardwood floor. His lip was bleeding, his nose broken. But he didn’t feel the pain.
Rhys reached for him again, hauling him to his feet. Fury burned in his eyes, and Christian knew that Rhys intended to kill him.
Just as he’d once intended to kill Rhys.
Only this time, Christian knew the killing would be justified.
Rhys wanted his death for the right reasons.
Rhys pinned him against the bookshelves and stared at him.
“
Lilah
had sex with me. She charmed me.
Hypnotized me.
And when I realized what I’d done I was sick with guilt. Sick that I couldn’t stop her,” he growled, his fangs already elongated. “And those times I went to her, to bite her, I only sought retribution from her for ruining my family.
For killing my baby sister.”
Christian didn’t speak. What could he say now? He had been so obsessed with
Lilah
,
he’d blinded himself to the truth. He’d refused to believe. But now that he’d felt real love, pure love, he knew he’d never known that emotion before.
Rhys bared his teeth, moving in for the attack, when Sebastian’s voice stopped him.
“Rhys, Jane is dying.”
Rhys released Christian, turning toward Jane.
Sebastian stood over her, his eyes bleak, his face drawn. “She’s barely breathing. I don’t think she’s going to make it.”
“No!” Rhys roared, striding over to her.
“No,” he repeated as he knelt
beside
her, stroking her hair.
Sebastian watched Rhys, feeling helpless, angry.
Christian remained against the wall, also watching Rhys. But Sebastian couldn’t see any of the bitterness or the hatred that had been a part of Christian’s features for so long.
He looked devastated. Sick.
Sebastian had no doubt that Christian was simply going to stand there and allow
Rhys’s
attack. Sebastian didn’t know what changed Christian, what brought back the brother who’d disappeared when
Lilah
had arrived. But he was there, leaning against the bookshelves, tormented by what he’d done.
Christian was no longer the monster
Lilah
had created.
Christian’s eyes locked with his. They stared at each other for a few moments. Then Sebastian nodded at him. A nod designed to tell Christian he understood. Or at least he would try.
Christian didn’t react. He simply looked back at Rhys, kneeling beside Jane. Then with disgust and self-hatred burning in his eyes, Christian dissolved into shadows.
Sebastian returned to Rhys. He was the one who needed him right now.
“How is she?” Sebastian asked, but he already knew. Jane’s breathing was so faint, even with his keen senses he could barely register the tiny breaths.
Rhys didn’t answer. He just kept touching her. His fingers trembling as he stroked her face, her hair.
“You have to try and cross her over,” Sebastian said.
“No.”
“Are you just going to let her die?” Sebastian’s tone was terse, but he didn’t care. They couldn’t just let her die without doing something.
“It won’t work,” Rhys said, still not looking away from her. “She can’t give her consent.”
Sebastian knew that what Rhys was saying was likely true. Mortals could not cross over without accepting the dark gift, as it was so quaintly called.
“Rhys,” he said softly, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “she’s going to die anyway. You need to try.”
Rhys’s
head dropped, and he didn’t say anything. Finally he stood and gently lifted Jane into his arms.
His swift steps took him from the room, and Sebastian didn’t follow. Rhys needed to deal with this his own way.
Sebastian just hoped it was the right way.
Rhys carried Jane into his bedroom, placing her in the center of his bed. With great care, he arranged her in a position that made her appear as if she were only sleeping. Then he lay down beside her.
He tried to detect the rise and fall of her chest, the minute beat of her heart. He could, just barely, and he half feared it was only because he wanted to see it.
Tenderly, he touched her hair. The silken locks curled at the ends and twined around his fingers. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
When he moved back, he saw that her face had gone from pasty white to nearly gray. He closed his eyes, fighting with his indecision. He couldn’t let her go. But if he couldn’t cross her over, he couldn’t bear to be the one to kill her.
Pie opened his eyes, feeling wetness roll down his cheeks. She looked so small, so fragile, lying beside him.
He hadn’t been able to protect her. He had failed. Again, he’d failed.
Pulling her lifeless body to his chest, he hugged her tightly and buried his head into the crook of her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her chilled skin. “Oh, Janie, I’m so sorry.”
Letting out a strangled cry of agony, he reared back his head and sank his fangs into her jugular.
He drank until her breathing ceased and her heart stopped beating. Then with her body still cradled in his arms, he leaned back against the headboard. He looked down at her, her face a perfect, beautiful mask.
Lifeless, empty.
His tears rolled down his cheeks onto hers.
“Please come back to me,” he pleaded in a whisper. “Please come back.”
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Jane’s voice penetrated the darkness encompassing Rhys. He opened his eyes to find her leaning over him, a big smile on her full lips.
He immediately sat up, running his hands over her cheeks, her shoulders, her arms, making sure she was all right.
She
laughed,
the sound sweet and beautiful to his ears.
“I’m fine. In fact, I feel great.”
He stared at her, still unable to believe that she was here, that she had crossed over. He’d held her until the sun, high in the sky, had forced him to sleep. But he’d fully expected to awaken to find her dead.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe what?”
He paused. Maybe she didn’t realize what had happened.
Would she understand? Or would she hate him for crossing her over?
“Janie, last night—Christian attacked you.”
She nodded. “Yes, I remember.”
“You do?”
She nodded.
“Do you remember what Christian is?”
“Yes. I put it together last night. You have this fascinating book written by a man named Dr.
Kurtland
Fowler, and I started to see a lot of connections between you and the vampires he described. Although I don’t think I really believed it until Christian appeared.”