The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(89)

The sharpness of the latest rejection slapped her, cut her, made her bleed on the inside as she'd never bled on the outside. And still she fought. "Layel - "

"No! Look at my arm, Delilah. Do it!" he growled when she hesitated. "Look and see what I was willing to do when I left your embrace last night."

Dread filled her, because she knew, deep down, that what she would see would change her somehow.

"Do it!" he shouted, and all of the forest quieted.

Gulping, she lowered her gaze. He had rolled back his shirt's sleeves, showcasing deep, deep grooves in both of his forearms. Dried blood, scabs. "I don't understand."

"I've had to carve this six times already because the wounds keep healing. I even rubbed dirt, moss and salt into each slice to slow the process. Read the words. Read them!"

She focused, tracing each scab with her gaze. Never. Again.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, his voice suddenly quiet.

Her mind emptied of thoughts, and her emotions numbed. The warrior instincts she'd been so sure would win him vanished as if they'd never been. He absolutely and unequivocally did not long for a future with her.

Never again. Never again would he kiss her, touch her, love her. She was not a prize to him, she was a nuisance. She was everything she'd never wanted to be, forgettable, unimportant, unworthy. Once again, she'd chosen the wrong man. Craved something that could never be. This time hurt far worse than the other. Far worse.

"I understand," she said softly. This time, he did not have to put space between them. She did. Inch by inch she backed away. Her legs were shaky, she realized vaguely, near collapse.

I was willing to give up everything for him, yet he doesn't want me. Oh, gods. He didn't want her. The numbness began to crack, lances of pain trying to shoot through her.

The more distance she gained, the more emotion Layel showed. Regret flashed over his beautiful features, followed by sorrow. "It has to be this way," he said with so much self-loathing it even managed to saturate the air. "I have a mission. I have a mate. I cannot forget that."

"You had a mate," she said, wanting to hurt him as he'd hurt her. "She died. You didn't save her and you feel guilty. I had thought, hoped, you'd done enough penance. Clearly you will never do enough."

A muscle clenched in his jaw, but she wasn't finished.

"No matter what you've done, it's who you are today, tomorrow, that matters. You deserve to be happy. I wanted to be the one to make you happy. I can't, I see that now. No one can. You don't have to worry that I'll bother you anymore."

"Delilah."

Well, he remembered her name at least. Another step. "You don't have to say anything else. I saw only what I wanted to see, blind to...other things. I will not be so foolish again."

He ran his tongue over his fangs. "You are hurt. Do not think to fall into the arms of another. That will only make things worse for you."

"Only one way for me to know that for sure, isn't there?" she asked bitterly.

He was panting shallowly as he rubbed a finger over the carved reminder on his arm. "You are better off without me."

"Yes. I am. That's one point on which we absolutely agree." Another step. She wanted to spin around, flee, but refused. He would know how thoroughly he'd destroyed her. She laughed. What did it matter if he knew? He could not think any less of her. Oh, wait. He could. "My first lover, he was a dragon. Do you know what that means, Layel? It means you claimed the castoff of your hated enemy. You took a dragon's leavings. I hope the knowledge sickens you the way you have sickened me this day."

One of his fangs peeked over his bottom lip.

"I didn't ask you to give up anything for me," she told him, "but I would have given up everything for you." The war is over, and I have lost. War. Ha! As if she could have fought a dead woman. The battle had been over before it began. "Until the end of forever, Layel."

With that, she did spin. She did flee.

And for once she did not hope he would follow her.

TWO WEEKS PASSED. Several new challenges were forced upon them. Several more creatures were ruthlessly executed, leaving only a few members of each team. That's when the gods decided to dissolve the teams so that it was every man for himself. Unfortunately, the game itself hadn't changed. It was still life and death.

Though he had no right, Layel had kept a sharp eye on Delilah. She had survived the challenges. A simulated battle with swords and spears - to prove their skill in combat. A seemingly endless hike without food or water - to show their ability to forage for their own provisions while weakened. A quiz, taken while leaping through fiery hoops - to test their memories while under stress.

Through it all, Delilah had never looked at him, never spoken to him, never betrayed any concern for his survival. And he found that he...missed her. He wanted more of what they'd shared, hated how he'd hurt her. Again. He didn't care who or what her first lover had been, only that he himself was no longer allowed to worship that sweet body.

And he could have had it forever. She would have given him more, for as long as he'd desired. They could have been together without reservation, for now they could spend time together without having to do so in secret - not that she cared.

Never again, he reminded himself as he surveyed the pool where he'd taken Delilah. He was alone, even the animals wary of him.