Tainted Blood (5 page)

She looked at me sideways, like she was waiting for me to say more. I brushed her soft blonde hair away from her shoulder and tucked it behind her ear.

“The other night was a mistake,” I told her. “I’d had too much to drink, and I’d encouraged Laney to drink. It was stupid. All of it was stupid, and I can never tell you how sorry I am that I’ve hurt you.” A tear slid down her cheek, and I gently wiped it away with my thumb.

“Kiera, I made a mistake, a huge mistake. I thought I was doing you a favor by breaking up with you. I thought I was setting you free. Even if it is what right for you, I don’t want it.” She blinked at me and more tears fell. I continued to wipe every one of them away. “I don’t care if it’s selfish of me to keep you for myself, I need you, and I want you back.” I was impressed that I’d kept calm, and my voice had remained steady. I think I realized something then. I needed to be strong in front of her so she knew I could protect her and keep her safe. But what she said back to me challenged my strength and my will to keep it together.

“I don’t know, Carter. I don’t know if I can trust you.” Another tear fell, and she turned away before I could wipe it free. I needed the distraction of the tears so my own didn’t fall—so the stab of pain in my heart wouldn’t break me.

“Kiera, please don’t give up on me, not yet,” I said quietly, she turned back to me, her eyes falling on mine. I wanted to kiss her, but I was afraid she’d slap me.

She shook her head. “No, Carter. I can’t do this. You broke my heart, and I won’t let you do it again.” She stood, and I pulled my broken hearted self to my feet beside her.

“I came here to talk to Laney. I need to speak to her. Is she at your place?”

I shrugged.

“Can we go see?”

“Sure.” I turned and walked away, so she followed. If I couldn’t have her back then I didn’t want to see her.

I unlocked my apartment, revealing that Laney wasn’t there. Kiera came in anyway, but I just wanted her to go. I’d failed.

She said nothing at first, and I stared at my feet. She closed the apartment door then stepped closer. I lifted my head and looked at her.

She folded her arms. “How do I know you’ll never break my heart again,” she asked.

“You don’t,” I said, and I felt a little spark of hope igniting in my chest.

“That’s not good enough,” she said.

I took a hesitant step toward her. “But it’s the truth,” I said. “So is the fact that I love you. That I will always love you.” I saw her soften a little. That’s when I did it; I figured it was now or never. The only way I could prove to her that I would never hurt her, that I loved her more than anyone, was to promise myself to her, forever.

I dropped to one knee just like I’d seen in countless TV shows and movies. I’d already freed my birth mom’s engagement ring from the little pouch in my pocket while I was staring at my shoes. Her arms fell to her sides, and I took her left hand in mine and held it for a minute. “Kiera, I love you, and I know I’ve made a huge mistake. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and take me back.”

She nodded, but it wasn’t enough to prove how much I loved her. I was shaking and heard it in my voice. I took a steadying breath. “I have one more thing I want to ask you, “I said and saw the confusion spread across her face.

I pulled the ring from my pocket, the little diamond sparkled. “Kiera, will you marry me?” I thought I was going to pass out. I knew it was what I wanted,
but
I was
a guy after all, and it was freaking terrifying! She covered her mouth and started crying. I was suddenly afraid she’d turn me down.

“Is that a yes?” I asked nervously. She answered me by holding out her hand and nodding.

With another deep breath, I slipped the ring onto her finger, and she jumped on me, knocking us to the floor. Her lips were on mine, and she mumbled, “I love you,” while she kissed me, and I responded the same. Then, well, I’m pretty sure you know what happened next, but I want to make something clear; I didn’t have sex with Kiera then. I made love to her. I made love to my soon-to-be-wife, and the entire time, I was acutely aware of the ache I felt in my heart. It was a happy ache, because for once, I had all that I ever wanted.

I knew I’d have to tell her about the were-attack and my vampire lineage, eventually, but not yet. I wanted to enjoy her happiness for a while. And mine.

Now, let’s hope I survive the next full moon. Although I’m pretty sure Laney will kill me for proposing to Kiera before then.

So, I must be off to plot my defense. (This is where you imagine me with a wicked grin.)

C
hapter 1
- H
appy
B
irthday to
M
e

It was the morning of my birthday, and I was in Oliver’s bed, the bed we were now apparently sharing. I was staring up at the ceiling, and all I could think about was Kiera and Carter, and the fact that they were engaged. Actually getting
married
.
It
was blowing my mind! I mean, it hadn’t been that long ago that he’d kissed me, and she hated the both of us.
A
fter
seeing those pictures on Zoey’s phone, I didn’t blame her. I kind of hated me too.

Kiera had forgiven me, too easily, in my opinion. The excitement of her engagement outweighed her anger and possible hatred toward me. She was still there, in Carter and Oliver’s apartment, when Oliver and I got home that evening, and she was so excited to share her news. She couldn’t wait to tell me about the engagement, and I pretended to be totally surprised…and happy.

She acted like nothing bad had ever happened between us, and just like that, I was forgiven. All because of a shiny band of gold and a little diamond.

I just wasn’t sure I could forgive myself so easily.

I was still feeling rather guilty for letting myself get so “friendly” with Carter, that stupid drunken night out on the dance floor. It made perfect sense why Oliver had been so angry with me, with both of us. But I still didn’t understand why he never told me what I had done, and why he had scrubbed the evidence from the Internet. It wasn’t like I could ask him. Zoey had made it perfectly clear that I could never say anything about her having the pictures, or her sharing any information from that night with me.

I heard a clattering in the kitchen, and my thoughts were brought back to my friends and their upcoming nuptials.
What was Carter thinking?
Just days ago he was waking up in bed beside me while I was wearing his shirt—another mystery to me—and now he was engaged to marry my best friend. I didn’t understand it, not at all. And I hadn’t had a moment alone with him to ask him a single question.
But
,
what would I ask him?
I thought. “What the hell are you thinking?” came to mind.

The clattering altered my thoughts again, and I flung the covers back and rolled out of bed. I gathered my clothes from my bag in the corner of the room and headed out of Oliver’s bedroom to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day. For my day…

When I opened the bedroom door, I noticed that the apartment smelled rather…funky. Oliver was rummaging around in the kitchen, and something was smoking on the stovetop. I paused for a moment and watched him. He didn’t seem to have noticed that I was there. I watched as he briefly stirred the smoking contents of the skillet then began digging around in the low cabinets once again. I cleared my throat to catch his attention.

He did a double take, like he was surprised to see me standing there. He straightened from his search in a drawer and gave me a smile like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. It was an irresistible smile, of course, but still, one that was a bit mischievous.

“What are you doing?” I asked suspiciously.

He ran a hand through his golden-brown waves and that smile continued to pick at the corner of his lips. “Well…” he began, and he shoved both hands deep into his front pockets. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed, but it’s been so long since I’ve actually cooked anything, that I don’t seem to be good at it anymore.” He nodded toward the smoking skillet.

It was hard for me to believe that Oliver, gorgeous and perfect Oliver, could be bad at anything.

I set my clothes on the dining table and made my way to him in the mess of a kitchen. Measuring cups, a few bowls, several utensils, and a half empty cartoon of eggs. Eggshells littered the countertop. I slipped my arms around his waist and rested my head against his firm chest. He pulled his hands free of his pockets and wrapped them tightly around me.

His kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Happy Birthday, Laney.”

“Thank you,” I whispered back.

“I’m sorry I’m not able to make you breakfast like Felix can, or even Carter,” he said quietly.

I felt my forehead furrow in confusion, and I looked up into his stunning emerald eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He let go of me and took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets again. He stared down at the skillet but made no attempt to prevent what looked like overly browned scrambled eggs from burning even more than they already had. They stunk too. I didn’t understand how he could bear it.

I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “So? I’m not a big fan of eggs anyway.”

It was obviously bothering him that he couldn’t accomplish this simple task, and my attempt at trying to be light-hearted to relieve his weariness of the situation wasn’t helping.

He pulled a hand free of his pocket and stirred the contents of the pan. Ok, it was more like scraping the contents off the bottom of the skillet, and I was pretty sure that pan would be going straight into the garbage. Oliver flipped the burner off
and without
making eye contact, brushed past me out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” I asked as I watched him head toward the front door.

He stopped with his hand on the knob but he didn’t look back at me when he said, “I’ll go pick up something for you to eat.” For a moment he said nothing, and when I tried to protest about him leaving he interrupted me and said, “I’m sorry I screwed this up.”

“What are you talking about?” I made my way to him, taking his hand from the knob and into mine. I gently pulled him toward the couch. I sat and pulled him down beside me, keeping his hand in mine. He heaved a heavy sigh as he sat, still avoiding eye contact.

With the tips of my fingers I gently guided his face so he would look at me.
This couldn’t just be about the eggs
,
I thought. There was something more going on. “Hey,” I began softly. “What’s going on?”

He finally focused his eyes on mine and the pools of emerald were swimming with sadness. “I just wanted to make you a nice breakfast to start your birthday out right, and I screwed it up.” He sat back heavily.

A small smile played on my lips. “You are making too big a deal of this. I am perfectly happy with a bowl of Lucky Charms, you know that.”

I seriously didn’t understand what the big deal was. I didn’t see why cooking skills were something he needed to master. It wasn’t like I’d be like this forever, a plain human. I figured
, sometime
in the future, he’d change me, and we wouldn’t have to worry about my food needs any longer.

I brushed my fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes when I did so, and I saw a shudder run through him. I pulled my hand back, and his eyes snapped open. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t quite a snap but it also wasn’t quite…normal.

He straightened and pulled his hand free of mine. He sighed again and then relaxed a little. Resting his elbows on his knees and focusing his attention on his hands. “It may not be a big deal to you,” he said, “but it is to me. I need to be able to take care of you. If I can’t make you a simple meal, how am I supposed to do that?”

I was kind of at a loss here. “I am fully capable of taking care of myself, you know?” I didn’t mean to sound defensive but that was exactly how it came out.

“Yeah, you and other guys,” he muttered.

“Oliver! What is your problem?”

“Nothing!” he snapped. Like lightning, he stood and was at the door again. “I’ll go get you some breakfast while you shower.” And with that, he was gone, leaving me confused, sad, and alone on the morning of my birthday.

I hoped the day would improve from there, but I would be keeping my expectations low.

After my shower, I sat at the dining table in Oliver and Carter’s apartment, eating a bowl of Lucky Charms all by myself. It had been over an hour since Oliver had left. I’d sent him a text and asked where he was, but after ten minutes, he still hadn’t responded. That’s when I poured myself the bowl of cereal.

It was close to ten in the morning, and I had yet to hear from anyone. Not a single birthday text or call. It made me feel a little…forgotten. And sad.

I was positive I didn’t want to deal with classes on my birthday and certain that I did not want to deal with Ashton or any of his arrogant comments. And I definitely wasn’t about to sit in that apartment all day waiting for Oliver to get over his…whatever it was he was dealing with.