Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1) - Page 71

“You were not thinking clearly then,” Elliot said draining his glass and slamming it down on the table, “and you’re not thinking clearly now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know little of love.” Elliot’s dandified wave and curled lip conveyed disdain, as though the word was foreign to his repartee. “But I know Miss Bromwell believes she loves you deeply. Yet still you would have her forget you. Are you certain there is no hope of helping her to understand? Can you not—”

“You saw her face,” he said picking up the poker and prodding the fire. “She despises what I am. To her, I will always be an abhorrence, a distortion of all that is normal and natural.”

“Those are your words, not hers.”

“They are true all the same. She could never love me as she used to.”

He wished he could go back to the time when all he felt was anger and bitterness. He wished he had no knowledge of love’s beautiful ache. Self-pity was not a quality he admired, yet he could not help but grieve for all he had lost.

He twirled the iron rod between his fingers and thrust the handle at Elliot. “If you want to help, you can start by driving this through my heart, or what’s left of it.”

In a sudden fit of rage, Elliot seized the poker and shot to his feet knocking Alexander to the floor with a punch to his chest. “You want to bloody well die,” he spat, “then let me put you out of your misery.” The point of the poker dug deep into Alexander’s skin, and Elliot put his boot on his chest to keep him on the floor.

“Do it,” Alexander cried, his heart too weak to protest. “I have nothing left to live for.”

“Know this,” Elliot said, his face red and distorted in his rage. “Miss Bromwell does not want to forget you, and I will honour her wishes. Know that she will always remember the love you shared. Her nightmares will be haunted by the image of a monster. She will always know what you have forsaken, know that you’re a coward.”

Elliot’s taunts failed to penetrate his shield of despair.

All except one.

“You promised me you would make her forget, that you would erase her pain.”

“I did not promise you anything, Alexander. But know that in your absence, I will pursue Miss Bromwell. Perhaps I will take her to Bavaria and beg the golden-haired goddess to turn her.”

“No!” The word sounded like a howl as he unleashed the wrath of the devil inside. He felt his fangs protract as his vision sharpened. Drawing all his strength, he writhed and kicked out as Elliot struggled to contain him.

Elliot threw the poker to the floor

and stumbled back. “This is who you are. The sooner you learn to accept it, the easier your life will become.”

“I should rip your throat out for your callous remarks.”

“But you won’t,” Elliot said with a smirk.

Alexander stepped back, feeling disgust for the beastly image he knew marred his face. “Just leave me the hell alone.”

Stalking away without another word, he marched through the house and out into the garden. The fresh night air failed to bring the usual relief, and so he wandered over to the bench, flopped down and let his head fall into his hands.

Now he knew all his efforts to occupy his mind during the long, lonely nights had been for naught. Nothing would fill those hours now. Whenever he sat at his easel, he would think of her. Whenever he glanced at the moon’s reflection glistening upon the water, he would recall the night he’d watched an angel swim. The scent of cherry blossom would remind him of the intoxicating taste of her skin, of the night she gave herself to him.

“Alexander.”

Just to torture him all the more, his mind conjured the sweet sound of her voice. The soft timbre was more beautiful than any musical arrangement he’d ever heard, and he closed his eyes and tried to imagine it again.

“Please, Alexander. I know I’ve hurt you, but give me a chance to explain.”

His eyes flew open as he felt a hand on his shoulder, the warmth rushing to his heart in a desperate bid to stoke the burnt debris.

“Eve.” He shot up and swung around, forgetting his teeth still overhung his bottom lip, that his eyes were not the blue she remembered.

She gasped and swallowed visibly, her head jerking back in shock and he wanted to scream and curse. In his shame, he shuffled back, his gaze falling from her wide eyes.

“Don’t hide from me,” she suddenly said rushing around the bench to stand in front of him. “Let me look upon your face.”

Tags: Adele Clee The Brotherhood Paranormal
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