Blonde & Blue (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #4)(39)

I could see him look at me though I was focused on the television. His stare grew heavy, and I knew he wasn’t going to let up. Dragging my gaze to his, I tensed. It had been more than just my guilt over Lena that had him here destroying my house.

“Alexa, I know you share my memories,” Arys began as if choosing his words carefully. “I know you saw Claire in my past. I don’t want that to be something that haunts you.”

“You mean something I’ll hold against you?” I asked, taking his silence as a yes. “It’s not like I just found out you’re a killer, Arys. So you two liked to tag team virgins together. Could have been worse.”

I was being a tad flippant but only because I didn’t want to discuss this. Arys was a vampire. He loved it. Picking apart a past that existed hundreds of years before I did was pointless. I considered it irrelevant.

“You know what I’m really talking about.” He didn’t want to say it.

“You mean because you slept with her?” I laughed dryly. “I didn’t really think you’d spent three centuries being celibate. What kind of an idiot do you think I am?”

“Come on, I didn’t say that.” Arys stroked a finger under my toes, and I giggled.

“I know you’ve had other lovers, Arys. I get that. It was a long time ago. I’d really rather not be forced to think about it though.”

He nodded. “Ok, fine. I just felt like I should say something. Especially since I really don’t know how much you’ve seen.”

“Enough.” I smiled so he would know I really wasn’t upset. “Most of it’s a blur of random images that move too fast for me to follow. Sometimes I’ll see something clearly, as if I’m seeing it through your eyes as it happened. I hate that. But, it doesn’t happen much. Your memories are buried deep in my subconscious where I prefer to keep them.”

A grin tugged at Arys’ lips. “You know your memories aren’t a real picnic, either. Some days I wake up screaming, dreaming about your wolf attack. It takes a few moments to grasp that I’m not you.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to seeing through your eyes like that. I’m just glad it doesn’t happen all the time.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, a comedy show capturing our attention. It wasn’t often that we sat in front of the TV and zoned out. It felt good. I didn’t spend nearly enough time doing this kind of thing. Normal things.

After giving my other foot the same amazing attention that had me moaning, Arys squeezed in behind me on the couch. He pulled me to him so that my back was to his chest. His arms went around me, and I sank against him gratefully. So maybe a cloud of smoke still lingered in my kitchen and maybe I had more memories of Arys’ blood-drunk sexual history than I desired, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Moments like this were blessedly simple. Simple was underrated. I could use more of this … without the horrible surrounding circumstances.

I snuggled in beside Arys. His body alongside mine was comforting, reassuring in a way that I needed. I was glad he’d come tonight. The moment of calm would be over much too soon.

* * * *

The sun was warm against my face. It felt all wrong. I kept wondering where the clouds were. Today was a day for rolling thunder and sudden rainfall, when the earth, too, cried over the loss of one of its own. Instead, I gazed up at a crisp blue afternoon sky while the sun blazed.

The cemetery was quiet. Those gathered for Lena’s burial were small in number. Jez and I huddled together a safe distance from the friends and family neither of us knew. Kale hated that he couldn’t be there with us. The sun assaulted my eyes and skin. It burned. Still, it had no further power over me. Not yet.

I recognized Lena’s daughter, Brogan. Having met her a few times, I knew little about her other than that she, too, was a natural earth witch like her mother. Despite what authorities might have told her, Brogan would know vampires had been the cause of her mother’s death. That was confirmed when she met my eyes across the open grave. Behind her obvious pain was the calm resolve of a witch on the war path.

The minister spoke words of hope and celebration of life. They never penetrated my tough exterior. I was cold with the visual of what had been done to Lena. Personally destroying Claire and Maxwell was all I could think about.

“This is the worst day ever,” Jez muttered, fussing with her long ponytail. “I feel like I should say something to Brogan, but I don’t know what. Anything that comes out of my mouth is going to be all wrong today.”

The past few days had been rough. It showed on Jez. The lack of sleep was evident on her face. Her eyes were puffy, and she had made very little effort to apply makeup. For Jez, that said a lot about her state of mind. She was internalizing, like we all did in these times. Things that usually matter had lost their appeal.

Saying goodbye to Lena was difficult. I fought back tears, fearing they would be blood-red. The pressure built inside me. I wanted to scream if only to feel some relief. We stood quietly through the rest of the short service. When the family began to cry and talk amongst themselves, Jez and I looked awkwardly at one another.

“Should we just go?” I shrugged, feeling out of place.

She held up a bouquet of flowers, waving them so the sweet fragrance wafted to me. As nice as it was, the scent of grief easily overpowered it. “I need to leave these by the headstone first.”