Ember’s gaze didn’t flinch from his, her eyes narrowed, focused and uncompromising.
Mother.
It was like a punch in the gut.
The other woman had claimed Ember to be hers that night. He’d chosen to believe her. But if what just slipped from Ember’s lips were true, it explained why the family resemblance was so strong, especially now that she was roughly the same age as her mother would have been back then.
He’d only laid eyes on her mother for that brief time, but it was a moment he would never forget. A moment that had never stopped haunting him. Her image forever engrained in his memory.
‘And don’t you dare try and tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about,’ Ember said, her tone impressively calm. ‘I look like her. I know I do. And she was wearing that necklace the night she died. You saw it back then, didn’t you? You recognised it when you returned it to me. That’s why you asked me about it.’
He had no place feeling guilty. That’s what he’d told himself over and over again for years until, in the end, he’d stopped thinking about it at all, pushing it deeper and deeper into his psyche.
It was probably why, out of context, he hadn’t recognised her when he’d first seen her again that night in the alley, rain-soaked and sobbing with grief over Liam’s dead body.
He should have taken the ring back that night. Instead, he’d been grateful to her – grateful for having seen the depths of her despair, reminding him why he was better off as he was, free of the pain like she felt then. She had reminded him why he’d opted to embrace the existence that had been forced upon him. She’d reminded him why he was better off that way. And that was why he hadn’t taken the ring from her: his second mistake involving her.
Because if he had, he probably wouldn’t have recognised her the next time he saw her ten years later – that day he’d walked into the café six months ago and she’d been the one to serve him. Served by the girl who still wore the ring of her dead fiancé.
He’d instantly been laden with curiosity: his third mistake involving her.
He should have walked away. Instead, he’d taken in every inch of her from her flat, black ballet shoes, up over her slender ankles and toned calves, to where her summer work dress had teasingly skimmed her knees. And sometimes when the light caught it, he’d indulged in a silhouette of her slender and shapely thighs. He’d linger on her small waist that helped emphasise the feminine curve of her hips, hips that involuntarily swayed seductively as she walked. And, as she stood behind the counter, he’d linger where the buttons of the front of her dress strained and gaped slightly over her breasts as she stretched and moved.
At first he’d kidded himself it was purely sexual until, in time, he’d found himself studying her face as much as her body – examining her delicate features, that occasional smile that was as warm and enchanting as her laugh. What had started as nothing more than a quiet, out-of-the-way place for his business meetings had become about, sometimes, finding himself going there just to be close to her.
Recognising she was attracted to him too had been torturous. The masochist in him revelling in the pain of knowing he couldn’t touch her. Whenever she served him, the sparkle in her eyes had been impossible to hide. But so had the sadness within their depths. It was that which held him back – even when he detected her shallower breaths in his presence, the slight flush to her bare face, the way she struggled to maintain eye contact with him; the way her hand trembled slightly when she took his order. Then there was the way she subconsciously jutted one hip a little higher than the other as she stood in front of him, emphasising her curves as if subconsciously wanting to make herself more appealing to him. How it always snagged her attention when he had company in the café; her wary and inquisitive glances in their direction. The way she’d suddenly seemed uncomfortable in her own clothes, even her own body whenever he was around.
And then there were her pupils, dilating like crazy whenever their eyes fleetingly met; something she couldn’t hide even amidst her downturned gaze.
So many times he wanted to push all those strands of hair back from her face to make her look him squarely in the eyes, to see how long she could sustain it, how close he could get his lips to hers before she broke. Before she relented to him.
But as well as her sadness, he’d picked up on the tension in her attraction. How she’d hated herself for it. She couldn’t mask the sullen anger that crossed her expression at times. Anger that seemed directed more at herself than at him – the way she slid her nail back and forth across her forearm enough to cause indentations, her arm wrapped defensively across her body to form whatever barrier she could between them.
Because, still wearing her dead fiancé’s ring, she had to feel guilty for that attraction. Attraction to the species that had murdered him.
So that was how it had remained between them for those first three months: he would watch her from afar, and she would watch him. Because, fortunately, when it came to self-restraint, they appeared to be equals in that arena. And his had intensified when he’d gut-wrenchingly overheard about her leaving. Because one bite, just one bite from him, one single mistake of being lost in the moment, would leave her entire future ruined. He wasn’t willing to do that to her. Not for one night, or maybe a few nights, of nothing more than sex. Because he couldn’t afford to connect with her on anything more than that. And Ember needed, deserved, so much more than that.
Never had his desire to make sure she left been stronger than the night he’d first got a glimpse of her necklace. From then on, it became his responsibility to make sure she escaped. She’d opened the door for herself and he’d make sure she got through it.
Except now she knew. Now she had pieced it together. Or, at least, she had pieced some of it together.
And that meant he’d now made his fourth mistake involving her. The last mistake he was ever going to make involving her.
He dropped his gaze and rubbed his thumb along the side of his jaw. He heard her heart rate knock up a notch at his hesitation. More so, no doubt, at his lack of denial.
He dragged his gaze up to meet hers again. ‘You really didn’t know?’
From the shock on her face, at the way her breath snagged at the confirmation of what she suspected, he guessed so. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t have shared his bed if she had known, but he was always prepared for a surprise.
Her eyes glossed but he couldn’t tell if they were tears of anger, relief or fear. ‘I knew there was something before then but I just couldn’t place it. There’s always been something so familiar about you. I can’t believe it has taken me this long to piece it together. Everything makes so much sense now.’
Her lack of recognition was excusable. She couldn’t have been more than five years old at the time. She’d seen him for a matter of minutes.
‘I knew none of this was random,’ she said. ‘That none of it was by accident. You being here, you hanging around, you helping me: none of it is coincidence.’
‘The woman who defended you that night said you were hers.’
‘My aunt. My mother’s sister.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘When did you know, Nate? How long have you known who I am? Is that why you didn’t take the ring that night? Some kind of guilt?’
He dropped his holdall to the floor. Walking away right then was too easy an option, and Ember deserved more than him taking the easy way out. She deserved some kind of peace, especially about what happened that night, before he disappeared from her life – visibly, at least.
‘For the first three months I went to that cafe, you were just that girl who still wore the ring of some guy she once loved. I hung around because I was curious about what kind of person still clings to that ten years on. And when I started overhearing about your plans to move on, I wanted to be around to make sure you saw it through.’
‘How very noble.’
‘Then I saw you toying with your necklace one night, a couple of months ago. You were stood behind the counter. You’d removed it from inside your tunic whilst staring into the distance with that glazed look on your eyes that you have when you’re deep in thought. The blue glass caught the light and…’ He paused. ‘I saw the resemblance in your profile.’
The profile he had stared down at from the top of the external stairs. The woman lying still and twisted at the bottom. That same blue stone glinting in the moonlight around her neck.
‘I should have left at that point,’ he said. ‘I should have walked away.’
‘Instead you hung around. Out of guilt. Not pity. Or maybe both. That’s what all of this has been about. You turned my life upside down, Nate. I guess seeing I’d done OK eased that guilt, huh? Made you feel a little bit better? So you became what: some kind of guardian angel until I left? Hoped it would take away the guilt completely?’
‘I have nothing to feel guilty for. What happened to your mother was an accident.’
‘An accident? Is that how you see it? Because what I see is a consequence of what you did.’ She closed the gap between them a little. ‘You broke into my home and snatched my brother. Why?’
‘Because I was paid to be there, Ember.’
‘To collect him? He was a job? A child? Why him?’
‘I never ask for reasons.’
‘You took him no questions asked? You just tore a child from his mother? What kind of person does it take to do that?’
‘I warned you, Ember. I warned you I’d done things you wouldn’t like.’
‘Yes. Yes, you did. And I chose to ignore it. But I never imagined this.’ She shook her head. ‘An accident and a job,’ she repeated, incredulousness dominating her tone. ‘My family: nothing more than an accident and a job.’ Her eyes glared into his. ‘Show me your eyes, Nate. Unless you’re too much of a coward to look at me with your true ones.’
Before he walked away, he would leave her with that if that was what she wanted. If that was her choice.
She backed up at his approach. So as to be at eye-level with her, he sat on the chair under the window, directly opposite where she’d resumed her seat on the edge of the bed. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, her whole body tense, her knuckles pale as she gripped the duvet either side of her.
He lowered his head. He pressed his forefinger to each eyeball to remove the dark brown lenses before looking at the floor for a moment.
Finally, he looked back up at her, ready to face the child whose life he had ruined that night.
The child who had turned his life upside down too, even though she didn’t know it.
The child, now a woman, who could still change everything if they found out she existed.
Her breathing snagged. She slammed the back of her hand against her mouth as she stared back at him.
Tears instantly filled her eyes. She pulled herself from the bed. She hurried out of the bedroom into the lounge.
He interlaced his hands as he cupped the nape of his neck, his gaze meeting the floor.
He could still hear her breathing so he knew she hadn’t bolted completely. He should have known she wasn’t going to. She had too many questions. She wasn’t going to risk losing him without having asked them. Without having asked the only person she knew of who had the answers.
He pulled himself from the chair and made his way out behind her.
She was perched on the arm of the sofa facing the door. Using the flats of her fingers, she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
‘You let me sleep with you knowing all of this,’ she said.
‘I told you you’d hate me.’
She looked across her shoulder at him, her eyes glowing with indignation. ‘The fucking truth would have been less cryptic! Where did you take him?’ she demanded, standing again.
‘Ember, it was twenty-six years ago.’
‘Not in my head! You might have been able to move on from your “job” but I haven’t. Have you any idea what you did to me? For years I didn’t sleep for fear of someone knocking down our door and taking me or my aunt away. I have three bolts on my door even to this day. I still can’t sleep in the dark, listening out for every sound. I can’t have the TV above a certain volume. I’m always looking over my shoulder. I struggle to trust anyone because I don’t know if they have an ulterior motive. You did that to me. You and whoever it was with you that night.’
She stepped away, her hands clenched at her sides as if she was barely containing her rage. She spun to face him again.
‘Every day I’ve wondered what happened to him. For years, I’ve tortured myself playing scenarios over and over in my head. Have you any idea what it’s like to spend every day of your life imagining the worst horrors happening to someone you love? He wasn’t just my brother, Nate. He was my twin. And those horrors don’t ease with age and experience – they worsen it. Because I know what happens to snatched children around here, to the point I’ve never even been able to consider having kids of my own for fear that same thing might happen to them.’
Stray tears trickled down her cheeks that she swiftly wiped away again.
‘Part of the reason I’m leaving this district, leaving behind all I know and love, is because I cannot live with that fear any more. Because I want to be normal. You stole my peace of mind, Nate. You didn’t only steal my brother and murder my mother, you stole who I might have been.’
She closed the gap between them, her eyes blazing.
‘You drove away and left my mother lying dead on the floor like she was nothing,’ she added. ‘So you’re right: I don’t think I’m capable of hating anyone more than I hate you right now.’
He should have grabbed his holdall. He should have left. He had no reason to stay there. He had no reason to stand around and take it. But he couldn’t move from the spot.
He wanted to hear it. He wanted to face it. He wanted to face what he had done to her.
‘Tell me where you took him and what happened to him,’ she demanded. ‘Was it some underground ring in Blackthorn? Did he suffer?’
But he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t risk telling her. For her sake. Because he knew exactly what she would do if she knew everything.
‘I didn’t see him again,’ Nate said. ‘But it’s not what you imagine.’
‘It was twenty-six years ago, Nate. Whoever paid you probably doesn’t even care about what happened any more, but I do. I need to know where he ended up. I need to know if he’s still alive. What if he’s still here in Lowtown? What if I have already bumped into him in the street?’
‘I’ve never crossed paths with him again.’
Her eyes flared with resolve. ‘Then maybe it’s time you tried. You’re going to help me find him, Nate. You owe me that much.’
‘I owe you fuck all, Ember. I have done more than enough for you, including working for the Hordas clan again when I wanted nothing more to do with them – and that’s for you.’
‘You said that was for your benefit.’
Nate exhaled curtly. He shook his head as he walked away. He shouldn’t have said it. It had escaped his lips before he’d given himself a chance to analyse the consequence. He needed out of there before he risked saying any more. He couldn’t risk revealing any more.
But Ember followed him. ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me, Nate!’
He ignored her.
‘You know more than you’re telling me, I know you do,’ she said. ‘You say you don’t ask questions, but this job was different, wasn’t it? Otherwise why any of this?’
She was getting close, too close, her inquisitive mind working overtime. He needed to say something. He needed to throw her off the scent.
He turned to face her. ‘If your brother’s still alive, why hasn’t he come to find you, Ember?’
‘He might not remember me.’
‘Like you don’t remember him?’
‘I had my aunt to remind me. Who knows what he’s been told. Nate, I deserve the truth. You know more, so tell me. Please.’
‘You want to know the truth? I wasn’t with another vampire that night, Ember, but you wouldn’t have seen that. By the time you looked out of the window he was already in the car with your brother.’
‘Who was?’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘Your father. I didn’t hand your brother over to a random stranger, Ember. I came with your father. He hired me for the job. It was your father who took your brother away.’