“Don't be sorry, Ara.” He shook his head a few times, biting his lip. “Just…you don't have to be sorry for anything.”
“I could’ve stopped him—from killing himself.” I stared out at the place David stared for so long, hoping to find the resolution he was looking for too. But there was none there. “I could’ve taken the vial and snapped it.”
“But you didn't know then.” David reached down and took my hand, keeping them between us. “You hated him—thought he wanted to kill you. Don't feel regret for that, Ara. He wanted to die. It was his choice.”
“Yeah, because of what he did to me.”
David opened his mouth to speak, his thoughts seeming to change direction instead. “I'm not sure his death was for that reason. He was a smart kid, Ara, and he would’ve known, only too well, that you’d forgive him when you found out the truth about why he tortured you.”
“Do you think?”
He nodded. “I know. I’ll bet that’s why he left you those memories—with the blocks in place—so they’d come out one by one, when he wanted you to see them.”
“So I could empathise with him?”
David shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.”
I nodded, my eyes tracing the white oak divide of each French pane. “He showed me Arietta. I saw her face, heard her voice.”
My fingers pulsed where David's tightened around mine.
“She was very beautiful,” I said.
A distant smile rested on his lips. “And she loved Jason.”
“More than you?”
“Sometimes…it felt that way.”
“Maybe she was just making up for the love Jason never got from you—or from your father?”
“He did love us, you know. He wasn’t all bad.”
“He did?”
“Mm.” He nodded, his lips pursed. “And that's why it was so confusing. When we were babies, he fathered us the way he should. But, as the pain of losing my mother wore his soul down, he drank more, and his love became subjective to his sobriety.” The very depth of his tone sent a message into the air, that he felt it—that he still carried so much of that confusion, even as a man.
“That must have been hard; to be loved one minute, mistreated the next.”
He turned and smiled. “It’s in the past.”
“No—” I looked up at him, “—it’s not. You still feel the pain. And I don't know much about the way he treated you, only that he punished quite harshly—”
“You saw some of those punishments?”
“No. None. But Arthur told me how Jason got pneumonia.”
David nodded, relaxing. “Father loved us, Ara, for what it’s worth. He just couldn’t cope in the end.”
“Don’t make excuses for him, David. He mistreated you, and you spent your life hating Jason for that.”
“My hatred for my brother was not because of the mistreatment,” he said. “It was because Father blamed me when Jason would step out of turn.”
“Beat you when Jason would step out of turn.”
His eyes narrowed, focusing on nothing. “Why would Arthur tell you that?”
“He didn’t. You just did.”
The stare broke away to a smile. “You and your assumptions.”
“My correct assumptions,” I said, to which he added nothing. “You started your life alone, David.” I wrapped my arms around him again and felt each indent in his stomach, his ribs and the little place between his breastbones where I liked to rest my cheek. “But you're not alone anymore—I'm here. I love you, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you like that, ever again.”
He nodded, absentmindedly stroking my hair. “Please don't hate me for the things you learn while you're here, Ara. I have changed since I met you.” He tilted my chin upward; regimented David back in place. “Everything you know of me now is who I really am. Don't let my past destroy our future.”
I smiled, because he used the same words I had thought only minutes ago. “It would take something pretty awful to get me to hate you.”
He looked down then and placed a soft hand to my belly. “No luck?”
“Nope. No baby. I had my period last week.”
“Well, maybe one day.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I have to go now.”
“Wait.” I grabbed his arm with both hands and held on tight. “You said you’d stay until I fell asleep.”
“Well, that was before we spent the last ten minutes talking, Ara.” He looked at his watch then sighed. “Fine. Another half hour, and that’s it. It’s very hard to sneak out of this place in the daylight.”
“I'm sure you’ll manage.” I smirked.
He reached out and placed his hand on the back of my neck, directing me to the bed like a naughty child at a nineteen-hundreds boarding school. “Maybe I should manage you better, then I wouldn't find myself in so much trouble.”
“I can think of one way you could manage me.” I landed on the bed with a soft bounce and smiled up at him suggestively.
“By manage,” he said, landing on his knees between my legs, taking both my hands and pinning them gently beside my face, “I assume you mean make love.”
I nodded, closing my eyes with the smell of his sweet breath touching my nose as he lowered himself, warm and solid, on top of me.
“If I make love to you now, it’ll be noon before I leave this place.”
“Ha! Yeah, right. It’s been two weeks since we had sex, David, it’ll probably only take three minutes.”
The warmth of his laughter made my whole body tingle, and the way his fangs showed when he rolled his head back like that made me want to be under them—my blood spilling past his lips. His laughter ceased, trickling away to a soft smile as he wrapped my arms around his neck and gently ran a hand up my thigh, lifting my nightdress. “Looks like I’ve got something to prove. I hope you don't plan on walking for the rest of today.”
I giggled, nuzzling my nose into the skin below his neck. “I don't plan on walking for the rest of the year. So you can do whatever you want to me.”
He pulled back a little and looked down at me. “You shouldn't say things like that, my love. You sound sadistic.”
“You know I'm only being playful.”
“I don't like that kind of playful, Ara. You know that.”