The Dracove (The Prophecy series) (31 page)

“Don’t make me do this. I need you,” he whispered. He took her arm, turned her to face him, and pinned her against the door again. “Ye said you’d try to understand.”

A thousand years of torment reflected in his ice blue eyes, but it was fleeting. They changed back to a chasm of midnight blue darkness, sucking her in.

Her heart beat louder and faster, ringing through his ears, inviting him to taste the sweet symphony. He looked her up and down. Moved his hand forcefully up her stomach and over her chest, and ripped her nightgown open, exposing her left breast. Grant clutched her hair at the back of her head and forced her head to the side. He ran a hand down her neck; he wanted to taste her. The bloodlust was so intense, he could almost taste her. He leaned forward and licked her neck. When his fangs touched her skin, she jerked.

“Grant, please don’t,” she whispered.

With her trembling words, the garnet glowed brightly. It would have blinded him had he not been about to bite into her neck. The gem shrieked. Grant screeched and slapped his hands over his ears. When he stepped back, the garnet’s brightness amplified. He screeched again, pulling his blood-covered hands from his ears to cover his eyes. He stumbled back. Her eyes—her frightened green eyes—reflected the garnet’s dimming light.

“Siobhán,” he said in horror. He stepped further away from her and covered his mouth. “No. Not again.”

The sudden realization of what Cianán said to him in the desert, and that it might be true, hurtled him into the past. He recalled that evening. The stitches in time mended together, and what he saw horrified him. The visions of it happening, him cradling her in his arms, plagued his mind, but he couldn’t remember doing the deed. How could he kill the woman he loved, and now, to try and do it all over again?

Kylie watched tears form in his eyes. Tears of blood. At first, she couldn’t fathom why he bled from the eyes, but then she understood. He was crying . . . for
her
. Kylie’s body slowly stopped shaking. She wanted to say something, but there were no words for this. Emotion lodged so tightly in her throat, she could hardly breathe. Slowly, her fear faded. She watched a single crimson tear roll down his cheek amidst the smeared blood from his hands. He stood before her, trembling, and she finally understood the dream.

“Grant.” Her voice cracked.

He stumbled back and dropped to his knees. Grant covered his face with his hands.

Kylie slid down the door until she sat on the floor, her arms cradling her knees. She was too scared to move any further.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were normal—human—again, the ice blue returning to them.”Please . . . forgive me,” he begged. “I . . . I know not what I do.” Grant lowered his head in shame, his hair covered his face and he sat as still as a statue.

She stared at him, wondering what to do. The seconds passed like hours. Kylie watched him, watched this creature—
no, man
—kneel before her, crying. She looked to the painting of The Morrigan she so loved, silently asking for guidance. She could leave now, sneak out while he sat there, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to chance it. He’d probably chase her down again. Her lower lip quivered at the thought of it.

The minutes ticked away on the large grandfather clock in the foyer.

Finally, with a little courage, she pushed away from the door and cautiously crawled toward him, unsure of what she was doing. In her original dream the woman died, but this was different. Since she woke up from her dream earlier, she didn’t know how this was supposed to end. If she could find a way, it would end differently than the other dream.

She reached for his hand. He slowly raised his head. His hair stuck to his bloodied face, wet from his tears and the blood on his hands from his ears when the locket around her neck shrieked. She pulled her hand back a little, took a breath, and moved it forward again. Kylie carefully touched his hand. An unsettled silence filled the air; fear and shame and a primal scent lingered. Grant moved his hand just enough to take hers. He gripped it tightly and gave a timid smile. The points of his fangs bit into his lower lip.

At that moment, she knew he wouldn’t kill her. She knelt before him, ripped a piece of cloth from her nightgown, and wiped the bloody tears from his face. He tried to smile again, but he still trembled terribly, and all he could come up with was a pouting grin. It made her smile inside and she continued to clean his face. She didn’t see him as a monster anymore, or at least tried not to. There was a human side to him, after all; the side of him she fell in love with.

“You’re not frightened anymore.” His deep voice wavered.

She shook her head slowly, pushing the hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear as she had done earlier.
I’m trying not to be
.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, something tells me I don’t need to be.” She smiled warmly at him. Her eyes shifted to the painting again.

“I
do
love you,” he said, as though he had to remind her.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I think I killed her. I remember the visions now.”

“I remember them too.”

“Cianán was right; it was my fault.” He lowered his head again, but she wouldn’t let him and lifted his chin.

“Do you really believe that? The visions didn’t show
you
killing her.”

“Ye saw it yourself, in your dream.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure it was you. Something was different. It could have been anybody.” She folded her legs beneath her, sitting in front of him, and took his hands in hers. “I know you had the visions, but it doesn’t mean you did it. I had the visions too, and I sure as hell wasn’t around to kill her. Besides, it’s not like you to do something so horrible. At least, I don’t think it is. You stopped yourself from biting me. I didn’t stop you. I couldn’t. You stopped before the locket brightened and shrieked, despite the other side of yourself.”

“I don’t know—”

“Think about it, Grant. Try to remember more.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Yes. You can. Now think.”

Grant looked surprised, and she smiled. For the first time in her life, she felt stronger than ever, and she didn’t care where the feeling came from.

“All I can see is jealousy.” He stared at the floor. “Someone green with envy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m empathic, so I see emotions. The last thing I remember was envy before blacking out. I blacked out between the festival and finding her . . . over there.” He pointed to a spot ten feet from The Morrigan. “I don’t understand it. I don’t recall being jealous . . . . Shit, I just realized somethin’.” His eyes met hers. “That creature ye painted? It was me.”

“Then why did you buy it?”

“I thought it was Cianán. I’d hoped to use it as target practice.”

She laughed and covered her mouth with a hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s funny.”

“Why don’t you tell me the rest.” She sat back on her feet and looked up at him, holding her nightgown closed where he’d ripped it.

He stared at her.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

“Are ye sure you want to hear it?”

“Of course. You can’t put me through all of this and not tell me more,” she said and grinned. “Why would you be jealous? Or why would anyone be jealous when it involved her?”

They sat on the rug in the large foyer and Grant told Kylie the rest of his story—the search for the locket and how he was supposed to receive it.

“The moment we met, I started fallin’ in love,” Grant said.

Kylie smiled and patted his hand. “She must have been very special.”

He lowered his head and looked back up at her with a smile, showing fangs that had yet to vanish. “I meant you.”

She felt the heat of a blush rush to her cheeks. “Oh.”

“Cianán wanted to sacrifice Siobhán.”

“How?” Shocked, she had to force her mouth closed.

“It’s a blood sacrifice, really. I don’t think he was going to kill her, but I can’t be sure since it never played out.”

“Why would he need a blood sacrifice?”

“It would make him even more powerful. I don’t know if there would be a way to kill him once he harnessed the power.”

“Powerful, like a god?”

“Exactly like a god. If the ritual is a Druid one, or more precisely a Gallic one—where he spent quite a bit of time—it
would
be a human sacrifice.” He placed his fingers on his chin and tapped lightly. “To be honest with ye, I really don’t know that much about him. I don’t know how or when he became a vampyre; he never told any of us. I know he’s very old, over two thousand years, but I don’t know exactly how old.

“He wasn’t always like this, either. Ages before I met him, he was actually nice. I have a brother, a blood-brother, who knew him long before I came around. He told me what Cianán was like when he was a fairly young vampyre. He was the first of Cianán’s original coven. Cearbhall, my blood-brother, said he was quite charmin’—”

“Well, he charmed me, but I had a feeling there was something different about him. Something off.”

Grant nodded and smiled. “Charmed ye, huh?”

“Shut up!” She slapped his arm and balked at her action. “Seriously, I’m like five around you. What the hell?”

He laughed. “By the time I met him, he’d become obsessed with this . . .
Rítus
. If he has his way, becomes this god, the world as we know it will forever change. More so, I don’t want him to hurt you. He’s going to take ye away from me, just like he took her.”

“Is it your job to protect me?”

“It is, now that I’ve fallen in love with ye,” he replied. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” He kissed the back of her hand.

“And before you fell in love with me?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t care what he was up to an’ hadn’t for a long time. You found me in your studio that day because I was curious about your last name an’ the fact that I couldn’t kill ye for some reason. Don’t be mad at me, but you’d been prey I stalked the day before. I was also looking for the locket. When we had lunch together, an’ dinner that evening, I felt something I hadn’t in so long. You’ve captured my soul, Ky. I knew something was wrong when he didn’t kill ye—which is very, very rare. Nor did he put a spell on ye to keep you to himself, which surprised me at the time. It meant you were special to him. It meant he couldn’t be-spell you because ye needed to have free will. It wasn’t until I noticed something later that night that I realized what he was doing.”

“Wait, spell?”