Page 38 of Bloodstained
His lungs wheezed uselessly, and his hands slackened at his sides. When at last I tore free, I stared at the gaping wound. My chin and throat dripped red, my breathing was ragged, and for a prolonged moment, the dark creature in me was sated but not softened.
He stared at me with lifeless eyes. I let go of him and stepped back, and his body sagged, collapsing onto the cobblestone. I stood over him a moment longer, listening to the silence his death left behind. Then, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and left him there for the rats and the rot.
When I returned to the castle, I bathed at once. I wouldn’t let her see the gore. Clara still slept, curled in the bed, the blankets tangled around her. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow, her lips parted softly. She was the picture of innocence… everything I wasn’t.
I slid in beside her, and she stirred, lashes fluttering as she whispered, “Ivan.”
“I’m here, baby.”
She nuzzled her face against my chest. Her voice was hushed and drowsy when she asked, “Where were you?”
I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. “I took care of it. I took care of him.”
Confusion and dawning fear tangled together in her expression. “I overheard what you told your grandmother,” I continued, my voice low. “And when he drew near, I scented his vileness festering off of him. He had a darkness, yes, but not like mine. I used mine on those who deserved it, men evil and depraved and who betrayed me. His was pure filth.” I drew in a slow breath.“When I fed, I saw the truth about him. The women he hurt. And behind it, the shadow of a betrayal centuries old. He was nothing but a disease… then, and now.”My thumb brushed her cheek as I held her steady. “Laszlo will never hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
Her breath trembled. “Oh my God,” she whispered, horror lacing her voice as she woke fully and pushed herself up. “I had no idea.” Tears welled in her eyes, and her sympathy for those who had been previously hurt filled the room with the scent of incoming rain.
“I’ll destroy anyone who dares lay a hand on you,” I said, my voice low, edged with something feral. “I’ll do it again without hesitation.”
Her lips parted but no words came. She only lay back down and pressed closer, as if she already understood. I sensed her concern, the empathy for those other women, and the shock still lingering, yet beneath it a quiet acceptance. She knew, as I did, that Laszlo was pure evil, devoid of anything human.
I held her tighter.
This was not simply love. She owned every part of me, and I would burn the world before I ever let her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IVAN
The days blurred into one another, a cocoon of stolen nights of intense pleasure, and where nothing existed beyond the two of us.
But I knew Clara had others she cared for, family from this lifetime, and I didn’t want her to miss out on anything simply because I was selfish and wanted to keep her all for myself.
As the days turned into weeks, Clara spoke to her family daily. And now the time had come for them to make the trip and visit. Clara’s family was due to arrive shortly and with them came the reminders of the life she had set aside. She’d already contacted the gallery and taken a brief hiatus but planned on going back the following week. To her relief, they’d been very understanding.
She mentioned almost offhand how easily she’d broken the lease on her little cottage, as if even the walls there had known she wouldn’t be coming back. I’d assured her that if she truly wanted to stay in that little one-bedroom cottage, we’d make it work. But she still held the stubbornness I remembered so well.
I heard tires approaching long before she did. I stood with her on the front steps of the castle just as the sun sank belowthe horizon, her hand wrapped tightly in mine. The black SUV I’d sent to pick them up from the airport slowed to a stop, headlights sweeping the stone façade before flicking off.
Doors opened, voices carried. Her mother emerged first, dark hair streaked with silver, her coat pulled close against the chill. Her father followed, straightening his jacket, scanning the house with wary eyes. Last came her grandmother, stooped but steady, leaning on a cane as she was being helped. Even at a distance, her gaze instantly found me, sharp and unflinching.
Clara squeezed my hand. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered.
I could have chuckled at how worried she sounded. I didn’t know if she was anxious for me or them.
She let go of my hand to run up to her mother, who caught her in a fierce embrace that seemed to wring years of worry out of her in an instant. A huge smile covered her face when she pulled back to look Clara over. Her father’s hug was shorter, his gaze flicking toward me before settling protectively back on his daughter.
I stayed where I was, the weight of centuries on my shoulders, waiting for their judgment like a man awaiting trial. Even with Clara’s hand still tingling in mine, I could not shake the sense that the ground beneath me was shifting.
The four of them approached,her grandmother naturally at the lead. Each step she took was measured, like she had been walking toward this moment for years.
Clara slid to my side, her hand tightening around mine before speaking first, her voice low and careful. “Buni, acesta este Ivan.”Grandmother, this is Ivan.
The old woman’s gaze lingered on me, sharp and steady. At last, she spoke in Romanian, her voice strong despite her frailty. “Stiu cine esti. Am crescut cu povestile din sate. Întunericul dinjurul tau… iubirea care te-a pierdut. Tara asta nu uita.”I know who you are. I grew up with the stories told in the villages. The darkness around you… the love that undid you. This land does not forget.
Clara’s parents exchanged baffled looks, clearly out of their depth.
I inclined my head, answering her in kind. “Si dumneata crezi?”And you believe?
