Slowly, so slowly, he leaned in. My lips met his, and that fire between us ignited again. The current of energy pulsed through us, alighting my skin.
I fell back onto the blanket, pulling Andre down with me. He pressed himself even closer to me, and hesitantly he ran a hand along my face and neck before making his way lower. I gasped as he cupped my breast. No one had ever touched me that way.
He flashed me a pirate smile, and my breath caught. God, he was sexy.
I tried to tug his shirt off, but he gently took my hand and whispered in my ear, “Not tonight.”
I began to pull away, hurt by the rejection. He groaned and tightened his grip as he caught my gaze. “You don’t know how hard this is for me.” His eyes flicked to my neck. “All I want is to explore every inch of you and not let you go until I’ve thoroughly satisfied us both.” My breathing sped up at his words.
He slid his hand up my neck until he cradled my head. “But I don’t want to rush this—rush you. Because I’m planning on sticking around for forever, and if I sabotage this now by rushing you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
The pounding of my heart hit a crescendo. And then, the world stilled, just like it had the first time I saw Andre.
I love him.
There it was. The truth I’d been burying ever since I laid eyes on him. Because I didn’t believe in love at first sight, or that anyone could see past my face. But most of all, I was afraid that if I let someone in, I’d lose them, just like I had my family.
“What if I don’t want to wait?” I asked, breathless. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the prudish Gabrielle wanted to take this slow. But my realization and the heat between us had consumed me.
He searched my face, unaware of my thoughts. “You might not want to wait right now, but once you are alone in your bed tonight, you will, I promise.” He leaned in and kissed me deeply. “And I don’t want you to regret anything when it comes to this.”
I wanted to open my mouth and argue, but I knew from his tone that I wouldn’t sway him tonight.
So we lay there as the waves rushed in and out, hands touching and mouths lingering, but nothing more.
At some point later I could see the sky subtly lightening. “Now it’s late.” Andre’s husky voice tickled my skin as he kissed my jaw. Regretfully I disentangled myself. He grabbed the blanket and we walked back. His hand reached for mine, and I took it shyly.
He left me at the door of my room, kissing me one last time. “All I’ll be thinking about until this evening is you.” I blushed—blushed—at his words. “Remember to wait to talk to Cecilia until I wake.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, smiling. “Night.” I closed the door, and after changing into my pajamas, slipped into bed.
I couldn’t stop smiling. I think they call this giddiness. Who knew I was capable of it?
***
When I woke up, it was four in the afternoon.
I swore. The entire day practically passed me by. If I wanted to see Cecilia alone, I had to move fast. I grabbed the first shirt and pants I saw in my suitcase. Running to the bathroom, I quickly brushed my teeth and shook out my loosely curled hair.
It was hard to explain why it was important I visit Cecilia by myself, but I felt that this reunion was too personal for witnesses. I also didn’t want to bombard Cecilia with our presence.
I wrote a brief note explaining where I was going, and that I did not get kidnapped, killed, or maimed.
I pulled out Cecilia’s address and slid it into my purse. Now came the tricky part.
Four human bodyguards had come along with us, and they had been given explicit instructions to follow me wherever I went. Somehow I had to get by them undetected. I listened at my door. I could hear at least three separate voices chatting in the living room. There was no way I could slip out the door without them seeing me.
I walked out onto my balcony and looked down. I was on the second floor. If I climbed over the railing and hung from the bottom of it, I would only have a few feet to fall. Easy.
Yeah, right.
I swung my legs over, and slowly lowered my body until I only hung onto the wrought iron balcony by my hands. Taking in a breath, I let go. The drop was a lot farther than I had imagined, and my knees stung from the shock of my fall. I shook it off, pulled on my shades, and hailed a cab.
A half hour later I stood outside Cecilia’s beautiful bed and breakfast. As I stood in front of the villa, I suddenly worried my presence was not wanted.
I summoned my courage, and before I could chicken out, walked through the door.
I entered a homey living room. Sitting on the couch across from me was the woman who raised me the first few years of my life. She’d been arranging a collection of magazines on the sitting room’s coffee table, but looked up when the door opened.
“Buon giorno …” Her voice trailed away as her eyes widened. “Gabrielle?” Cecilia covered her mouth.
I wrung my hands together and smiled nervously. “Hi Cecilia.”
Cecilia looked as though she hadn’t aged a day since we last parted. “Come here tesoro,” she said, the Italian endearment rolling off her tongue the same way it used to when I was little.
She set her magazine aside, stood up, and approached me, arms open wide. We embraced, and I could feel her wet tears soak into my shirt. “I knew you’d eventually find me.”
She pulled away and patted my cheek. “My, my, how beautiful you are. You are all your mother.” She laughed light-heartedly.
“You knew my mother?”
“Of course,” she said. “Come my dear, you look hungry. Let’s go to the kitchen; it appears we have some catching up to do.”
I followed Cecilia into the kitchen. Sheer lace curtains hung from the windows. A shelf of wines hung from one of the walls, as did a string of garlic.
“Please sit,” Cecilia said, indicating to the table. She pulled out a tray of cookies and poured us each a cup of tea.
I was so nervous I didn’t think I’d have an appetite, but once I saw the cookies and smelled the tea, I remembered how hungry I was.
Cecilia sat down across from me and patted my hand. “We have a lot to talk about.”
It took about a minute to adjust to my surroundings. Cecilia was alive, sitting right in front of me, her dark hair, olive skin, and almond eyes evoking such a bittersweet emotion—why had she left me all those years ago?
I let out a breath. The truth was that I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start. “I was brought here by a letter my father left for me.”
Cecilia’s eyes widened for a moment. Then she nodded. “Santiago feared for your life, so he fixed his will, wrote that letter, and gave me instructions on what was to happen to you if he died. I was to take you far away and hide you in an orphanage.
“I thought that an orphanage was perhaps the most awful place for you to go, so initially I wouldn’t agree to it. But in the end, it really was the only way for you to go undetected. He had your birth certificate forged—”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “You mean to tell me that March twenty-third is not my real birthday?”
She shook her head. “Your real birthday is December eighteenth. You are actually three months older than what your certificate says.” She looked questioningly at me. “You don’t remember this?”
I was speechless for a moment. I’d been celebrating the wrong birthday and didn’t even realize it? Finally I collected myself. “No,” I said, “I don’t remember that at all. I don’t have many memories from before the fire.” I was still reeling from that bombshell. “… So, then is my real name Gabrielle Fiori?”
Cecilia smiled kindly. “Yes. That should’ve been changed too, but Santiago wanted you to keep some part of him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely, patting my hand. “Your father loved you so much. He was positive that whomever was after him would kill you as well. That’s why he went to such great lengths to hide you. He wanted to make sure th
at no one would discover you. If he had it his way, you’d still be in Los Angeles, oblivious of who you really were. He felt that was the only way you’d avoid the tangled mess he was in, and the siren’s curse.”
Belatedly something she said clicked. “You didn’t want me to be a part of the supernatural community?”
“That’s right.”
“I assumed you were the one that told Peel Academy of my existence.” My head was hurting. Why weren’t these pieces of my life fitting together?
Her eyes looked sad. “My dear, I have no idea who did that. Someone must’ve figured out your identity. I thought we were thorough,” she shrugged, “but I guess we weren’t thorough enough.” That was a riddle for another time.
Outside the sinking sun seemed ominous. My time was nearly up. I needed some answers. “Cecilia, two people have already tried to kill me.” My voice shook. “Do you have any idea who’s behind the attacks? My dad’s letter said you could help.”
She looked out the window. Her eyes were distant as she spoke. “I saw the attacks in the paper, and I read about your attackers. It could be anyone—the House of Keys, a hate group, or perhaps individuals acting independently. But,” she said, turning back to me, “I think it’s most likely an insider. A vampire. No hate group is that persistent, and the House of Keys would be more discreet—and more successful.”
“No, that cannot be,” I said, immediately rejecting her theory. There was one obvious flaw. “It can’t be a vampire. They wouldn’t risk killing themselves as well as rest of the vampire population. Andre said so himself.”
“Andre?” Cecilia looked frightened. “You should trust him the least.”
“What?” Why was she acting this way? “He’s helped me since my Awakening.”
Cecilia crossed herself. “That long ago fire? Other than your family and me, Andre was the only vampire who knew the location of Santiago’s safe house, the same house you were raised in and that burned to the ground. Your father trusted him, but I fear he put his faith in the wrong man.”
My heart plummeted. Dread flooded my system, and my pulse beat loudly in my ears. That couldn’t be true. Please let it not be true.
Dizzy from the adrenaline and the awful tightening in my stomach, I barely managed to voice my next question. “But why would Andre try to kill me?”
“My guess? Because you were born a vampire, and that calls into question the very foundation of his authority.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“Not when you’re quite comfortable with killing humans.”
The only sound in the room was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. I sat there, trying to comprehend her words.
Had last night been a lie? Nausea rolled through my stomach at the thought. I trusted him. And he might’ve played me this entire time. I almost had sex with him.
I begged myself not to cry.
“So, you think Andre killed my father? And now he’s trying to kill me?” I held my breath.
She sighed. “I don’t know. But even if he wasn’t responsible, he’s not completely innocent. Just be careful.”
Too late for that.
Andre might be trying to kill me. The realization finally sunk in, and it felt worse than dying. Worse than getting stabbed or shot. It felt like betrayal.
But could I trust Cecilia? I didn’t want to. My heart screamed that she must be lying. It was easy to jump to the conclusion that Andre was guilty. He’d already admitted to me that he’d killed before. But hell, I’d killed someone as well; that didn’t mean I’d do it in cold blood. What made Cecilia innocent?
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but why did my father choose you to hide me?”
She considered my words. “One, because I was random,” she said. “No one would guess the nanny could wield that kind of power. And two—and more importantly—because he trusted me completely. He knew what I was.”
“What are you?” I asked, looking out at the twilight sky.
She smiled. “I am a fate.”
Chapter 21
WHY DID I never make the right choices when it came to men? Why did I have to let Andre in? These thoughts ran through my mind as I sat in the taxi heading to the airport.
My body felt weary and my heart hurt. The sadness tugged at the corners of my eyes and mouth, pulling them down.
Once I left Cecilia’s, I’d called a taxi and booked a flight back to the Isle of Man through my phone. I couldn’t go back to Andre. Not now after what I learned.
I’d tried so hard my entire life to keep people at arm’s length, and when I finally let someone in, he ended up being a prime suspect in my attacks.
Just my luck.
The sadness and betrayal welled up in me, and I let myself cry, not caring that the taxi driver could hear my sobs.
How had I not considered it before now? Every time I’d been attacked he’d just left my presence. In retrospect it now seemed obviously coordinated.
Pulling myself together, I leaned my head against the window, letting my breath fog up the glass. I had to face the possibility that I had fallen for and stayed with my father’s killer and the person behind my own attacks.
But why would he try to kill me? What threat could I possibly be? He’d already introduced me to the coven. More importantly, why hadn’t he already killed me if that was his plan? It didn’t add up.
My body shook as I watched the scenery fly by. Last night came back to me, and I began crying all over again. I couldn’t erase my feelings for him. I could’ve sworn the look in his eyes last night was genuine. I could’ve sworn his concern was genuine. But he’d had so many years to perfect the art of lying.
My phone rang for the fifth time. I didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know who was calling.
I turned off my phone and wiped my cheeks. How would I protect myself from him? Andre was everywhere and nearly all-powerful.
I watched my tears dampen the armrest. Maybe everything was a lie, and Andre was innocent. But for the time being, I had to take Cecilia’s warning seriously until the attacks stopped. I was going to have to stop seeing Andre.
***
Throughout the plane ride I analyzed my talk with Cecilia over and over again, trying to understand whether Andre really could be pretending to like me while trying to kill me.
My thoughts felt clinically detached. I’d folded my heart up and stowed it away since it’d only gotten me into trouble. I would approach this logically from here on out.
Grabbing my textbook from my bag, I flipped to the page on the fates.
Known in Greek mythology as Moirai and in Roman mythology as Parcae, the fates were three sisters who were the incarnation of destiny. Clotho spun the thread of life; Lachesis measured the length of the thread of life; and Atropos cut the thread of life, choosing the time and manner of each person’s death.
I read through the passage until I came to the final useful piece of information.
Few people have ever encountered the fates, so very little is known about them. What is known is that they will only reveal themselves to those deemed worthy.
Now I understood why my father trusted Cecilia and why I should too. If you had destiny working for you, your odds were pretty favorable.
I bid goodbye to my budding relationship and breathed in and out. I was strong; I’d get through this as I had all other calamities.
As I put the book away, one thought lingered: what was a fate doing as my nanny?
***
When I arrived on the Isle of Man early the following morning, it was drizzling; the heavens reflected my mood. I shivered as I walked outside the small airport in nothing but yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans. Because I hadn’t gone back to Andre’s villa after Cecilia’s warning, I had nothing with me except for my book bag. Luckily it contained my wallet and cellphone, but I’d left behind my suitcase.
I hailed down a taxi and came back to Peel defeated. I’d lost Andre and was still no cl
oser to understanding who was after me, or why. The only good the trip had done was remind me that I could trust no one, not even the one man who I’d actually let in.
I opened the door to my dorm, and once I was inside, collapsed against it. Then I let it all out. The tears of frustration, betrayal, and dashed hopes. Couldn’t I just be a normal girl for once?
“Bitch please.”
My head snapped up. Oliver was lounging on my bed, eating more chocolates and flipping through a magazine.
“Don’t even go there,” he said without looking.
I felt my cheeks heat. I gave him a look that could curdle milk, but he didn’t even have the decency to glance up. “What would you know about my life that I don’t?”
He guffawed. “You’re crying because you’re having man troubles—obviously. And you need a reality check.”
“For your information, I already received one. Considering that my man troubles might also be responsible for the attacks on my life.”
Oliver closed the magazine and walked over to me. “Do you know this for certain?”
“No.”
“So you’re worried that Andre’s behind your attacks. Pardon me for saying so, but those aren’t angry, pissed off tears running down your cheeks,” Oliver said, pointing to my cheeks. I put a hand to my face. “Those are the tears of an angst-y teenage girl depressed over a broken relationship.
“Someone’s trying to kill you—Andre or not—and this is what you’re worried about? Please, you have worse problems.”
Oliver rendered me speechless. He had said the rudest, most hurtful, and most brutally honest thing I’d ever heard.
“Leanne’s freaking out,” he said. “Despite her reliable abilities as a seer, which foresaw otherwise, she thinks you’re dead. But I knew you weren’t—you’re a survivor. So while she’s running off her stress, I decided to wait for you to show.”
“Has anyone told you that you are a mean little fairy?”
“Oh, no one’s told me that. The boys have always told me I’m a big, rowdy—”
“Oliver!” I threw my purse at him, which he gracefully dodged.
The door to my dorm jiggled a second before opening. A wet and panting Leanne came in. Her jaw slackened when she saw me.