“Liv…” he starts.
“Just tell him what’s going on and to watch his back, okay?”
He nods. “Yes. Of course.”
I wait and he looks at me. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” I say and move away from him to put the basket on the table. Part of me wants to taste Cade’s blood again but my more sensible side warns me it is a bad idea. I look at it intently, my fingers hovering over the fully bloomed rose as Cole goes into the bedroom to call Devon. I sigh that it has come to this. I remember when he left me the last time. I was absolutely devastated.
Calais, France, 1692 - Elizabeth/Mary
Devon and I left Versailles soon after the Constantine encounter. Constantine had asked me to go back to Italy with him to pick up where we’d left off, but I couldn’t. Not when I had Devon. He was furious with me that I’d chosen my charge over him, but I didn’t see it that way. I was still hurting after his betrayal and the ease at which he threw everything away and left me. He stormed back to Tuscany in a temper, so Devon and I decided to return to England for a while. Or at least, I decided, and Devon just agreed.
“I want to Shift,” I told him one night at the inn we were staying at, waiting for the boat back to England.
“Why?” he asked in confusion.
“I want a change,” I said with a slight shrug.
“You don’t want to be Elizabeth anymore?” he asked sadly.
I shook my head. “I want to be me again.”
“You?”
“The real me. Shifting uses up more energy. I just want to be able to feel at ease.”
“You aren’t at ease? I can help with that,” he said with a smile and moved closer.
“Devon.” I held my hand up and stood. He watched me as I Shifted and his eyes went wide as he saw my natural form for the very first time, so different from his sire.
“That’s what you really look like?” he asked in disbelief.
Highly insulted, I glared at him, “You don’t like what I really look like?”
“I like you how I met you. This is not who I fell in love with,” he said, gesturing at me.
“I am still me, Devon,” I said sadly.
He shook his head. “No. Not to me, you aren’t. Turn back,” he demanded.
My anger rose up at his disrespect and his lack of enthusiasm for the real me. “Watch yourself,” I warned him. He glared back at me but remained silent. “I am staying this way for a time. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay and look at me.”
He stared at me in horror as my words sank in. “You want me to leave?” he asked quietly. “Is all of this so that you can go back to your sire unencumbered?”
“No. I’m not going back to him. I’m going to England, like this. With you or without you,” I said, stubborn as a mule, resolute in my decision.
“Then you will go without me,” he said, just as resolute, and he too stood up and started to get dressed.
Shocked that he was truly preparing to leave me, I just stood there gaping at him.
“Goodbye, Elizabeth,” he said as he reached the door, adding, “Or whatever your name will be.” And with that he marched out of the room, leaving me to stare after him, speechless.
I knew that one day this would happen. I had hoped it wouldn’t, but now that it was here, I was angry with him. How dare he leave me! How dare he leave me over that! I crawled back into bed refusing to go after him, confident that he would return before morning, before the ship set sail.
He didn’t come back. I waited all night and as I boarded the ship alone, he was still nowhere in sight. Heaving a sigh, I found myself a quiet corner to sit in knowing the sickness would start any time.
“Whatever your name will be,” he had said. Well, what would my name be? Something suitably English, but not Elizabeth. Emily? No, I didn’t look much like an Emily? Mary? I supposed it was as good a name as any. The tears started to fall silently down my face as I realized he wasn’t coming. He really had left me, my darling boy. Would I ever see him again I wondered as the first waves of sickness washed over me.