"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone."
-Harriet Beecher Stowe
The magic that seemed to have charged the air around them now danced beneath her skin when Mark's hands touched her. She had tentatively taken his offered hand, taken a careful step closer to where he stood.
Despite the mischief in his eyes and the tight grasp on her hand, he did not physically bring her closer to him, for which she was grateful. There was turmoil in her heart, an ache in her chest as if she were being pulled in two. It was pain that she had never felt before. She had experienced the absolute devastation of losing her parents, the sorrow as she watched Julian carry the weight of the world on his young shoulders, the throb of loneliness in those brief moments that she was reminded that she wasn't actually a part of this little family, but a guest tied with iron thread to one of its members.
She was no stranger to pain. But this was new, the agony of having to choose between loving Julian the way every fiber of her being demanded her to, or protecting him from certain destruction. And the worst part was that he could not know that the pain she was inflicting on him was to protect him.
And so she exercised her rarely-used caution, moving slowly into Mark's embrace. He lowered his head, a question forming in his mismatched eyes. Emma answered by closing the space herself. His lips were soft, and there was a sweetness to them, as if Emma were tasting an unfamiliar fruit. Kissing Mark was pleasant, and Emma sighed a bit into his mouth when he gently nipped at her lower lip.
His hands, surprisingly warm, meandered from her hands over her wrists, pausing at the crooks of her elbows before resting at the tops of her arms. He used his hold there to draw her closer so that she had to tip her head up to keep her lips on his. As his long Blackthorn fingers wove themselves into her hair, Emma was suddenly aware that her own hands were hanging lamely at her sides. She lifted them then to his waist, bunching his t-shirt in her fists.
Mark must have taken this as encouragement as he broke away from her to kiss the corner of her mouth, the angle of her jaw, the pulse at her temple; his lips lingered at the sensitive skin behind her right ear, and Emma felt her stomach flutter in response. There was a teasing nature to Mark's ministrations, his Faerie blood and natural prowess mingling to form an intoxicating experience for Emma.
When he drew back with a knowing grin, the light of the sunset coming in through the window illuminated his dilated eyes, one the color of molten gold and the other—
Emma's fluttering stomach felt as if it had jumped into her chest. She took in a shuddering breath, placing one hand over her tormented heart and the other on the side of Mark's face. She hoped that he would perceive her reaction as one of nervousness or being overwhelmed.
After a moment of stillness, he brought his hand over hers, drawing it away from his face to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss on the inside of her palm.
She could not meet his gaze or say a word, and she felt weak. She hated feeling weak. But seeing that Blackthorn blue-green hue, even if it was only reflected out of one of Mark's eyes, seeing one of Julian's eyes looking back at her was like being hit by a truck right now. Feeling like you were being hit by a truck didn't exactly inspire the sex kitten in anyone.
"Perhaps at another time, we can put some truth behind this strange lie you wish to tell. But not tonight. Tonight, I will leave you to sleep alone and make liars of both of us." The gentleness of his voice stirred a fondness for Mark in Emma, and without looking him in the eyes, she drew his face back down to hers for one more kiss. It was chaste and warm, and Mark obliged her for a few seconds before pulling away, carefully removing her arms from around his neck.
When he was out of the room, the door shutting with a click, Emma sank to the floor. She drew in her knees, hugging them to herself, making herself as small as possible. She was a monster, she was hurting the one person to whom she was bound, hurting him purposefully in the most visceral way.
With the taste of Mark's kiss still on her lips and the memory of Julian's touch in the forefront of her mind, Emma Carstairs wept the bitterest of tears.