CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Back in their rooms, Selene's continued silence was more than Michael could bear. On some level, he knew she was right. She had been divorced from her feelings for so long that she could not share them with him, no matter how sensitive and supportive he professed to be. Her empty eyes and blank expression tore at him. Several times, he tried to approach her. Each time she turned away, his headache sharpened and his frustration mounted. Her lack of emotion was straight out of the DSM-IV. If he hadn't been in such pain, he'd have talked to her about her numbness and detachment. When she sat down and stared out the window, he gritted his teeth and decided the room was too small.
"Can I have the keys?" he asked.
Selene turned and studied him for some moments before asking, "Where are you going?"
"Hunting."
Her eyebrows rose. "Hunting?"
"Selene, I'm an adult. Do I need permission?"
"Of course not! No! I just don't think you should go alone. Not yet. You're still changing."
He came to stand beside her. "I don't want you to worry. Why don't you make some headway with that mountain?" He inclined his head toward the papers Selene had brought back from the attorney's office. He leaned down and kissed her forehead as he took the keys from her outstretched hand. "I'll be back in a few hours."
"Michael? You might take your clothes off before you hunt. You don't have anything else."
He grinned. "I might at that." He turned and opened the door. "You know what, that's exactly what I'll do." He chuckled under his breath. His headache began to lift when he shut the door behind him.
When Selene heard the click of the doorknob, her head fell forward into her hands. Tears ran between her fingers. She sobbed. She was angry, deeply angry. And her grief was an immense black weight, a stone burning in her chest.
She cried for Viktor and for herself. She had loved him, he had been her father. Mixed with her grief at his loss was her outrage at his callous betrayal. He had murdered her mortal family. Six hundred years had passed, she could no longer picture their faces, hear their voices. She could shed no tears for them. Her grief for them was well-worn, a faint scar upon her heart, only a misty shadow across her soul after all this time. Viktor had filled the void left by their deaths. He had replaced her grief by setting her on a path of revenge and vindication. She had loved him, respected him, sought his approval. Now, she could not find a way to reconcile herself to what she knew about him, what she knew about his motives. If she hated him, how could she still love him? How could his death hurt this much when it had been her hand that brought him down?
Her purpose in life was gone. The driving force, the reason she existed…it had been a lie. With no agenda of hatred to steer by, her nights and her days held no pattern, no structure. The lycans had not taken her family from her, her vampire father had. Lycans were no longer her enemy. What was worse, in the quiet of her heart, she knew their blood was on her hands. She found that she mourned them. All the countless thousands, cut down without remorse. Now they cried out to her and she could not escape. Just as she could not soothe the restless souls of her vampire brothers and sisters who had died in the effort to annihilate their lycan enemies. How could she ever hope to avenge the lies they too had been told? When she closed her eyes, she saw so many faces. Those she had loved, those she had slain.
She could not lay down her burden and find solace in sleep. The familiar walls of her home, of Ordoghaz, were no more. Except for a brief period two hundred years ago, she had rarely slept outside the safety and comfort of her coven. Her home, her sanctuary…it was no more. Those who had lived within its walls were no more. Tears ran down her forearms. How could it be that she would never again stand within the walls of her home? She felt uneasy, cast adrift. When she tried to sleep, the familiar sounds of her sanctuary were absent and sleep would not come. No matter that she used Michael's desire for her as a way to exhaustion, as an inducement to sleep. It did not matter, nothing eased her pain.
Viktor had shaped her, molded her into a warrior, into his image. Now only the bare bones of existence held her together. Six hundred years had burned everything else away and left only a hard, spare core. That core was now forged into absolute iron with the blood of Alexander Corvinus, the blood he had passed to her like a gift. He had said she was the future. The future of their kind. She now possessed Alexander's immense strength; she could now walk in sunlight. But what else did this mean for her? She could not yet rise up and fully embrace that future when she was still so crippled by her past. Yes, Viktor was now gone. In his place was Michael.
Michael. How was it she could she love him? She could not bring herself to need him or cherish him. Certainly, she wanted him. Most certainly. He set her on fire with his body. But, she truly did not know if she could stay with him. She cried for the look in his eyes every time she turned away from him. She cried for the way his breath caught and his fingers trembled when he touched her. She cried for the ice in her heart when he held her, whispered to her. At times, she felt like shoving him away. She hated the irrational anger she sometimes felt when he called her name. What if she did not have it in her to love him enough? God, could she shed tears enough to wash that guilt away? How many tears would he shed if she could not find a way to continue to love him?
Alone, Selene cried and cried. She wound her fingers into her hair and rocked back and forth. She was afraid that she could not contain such anger and such grief. She had not allowed herself the luxury of emotion for so, so long. She was unequal to her pain; it swallowed her. She cried until she found the weary road to the sleep she had so craved.
Many hours later, she woke. Michael was crouched beside her, gently removing her boots. He had covered her and tucked a blanket around her as she slept. "What time is it?" she whispered.
"Around four."
"Four!" She sat up and threw the blanket aside. "Why didn't you come back for me?"
"I wanted to meet the lycans on my own. Having you there would have been like pouring gasoline on a fire."
She started to protest and he held up a hand. "Not because of what you would have done, Selene. Because of what you are."
Selene leaned toward Michael and wrinkled her nose. "I didn't know you smoke."
"What? I don't."
"You smell like cigarettes."
"Oh. It was the lycans. They were so nervous all three of them smoked like a chimney. I think they thought I was going to tear them apart. I felt sorry for them."
"Sorry? Why?"
"They're leaderless, their ranks have been decimated. One of them was so young, he couldn't have been over thirteen or fourteen when they made him. I think all he wanted to do was throw in the towel and go back home to his parents. Not that he could, of course."
"What will they do?"
"There's a den near Bucharest. They're leaving later today. Those that are staying are living in a compound Lucian owned. I don't think there are many of them left."
"Did you…" Selene stopped and cleared her throat. She tried again. "Did you share your blood with them?"
"No. I don't think that's a good idea until Ziodex comes up with a serum of some sort."
"Then why did you share it with Kahn?"
"Because of his woman," Michael said gravely. "I did it for her. Her fear of losing him hangs over them like a pall."
"How did you even know he'd been living with a mortal woman before you shared his memories?"
"I knew it the minute we sat down. Her presence was all over that room. I've lived with a woman, some things you don't forget."
Dismissing the ghost of Michael's lost love, Selene grimaced and rose from the couch. Her eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper and her throat was raw. She had never cried herself to sleep before in her entire existence; she had no tears left for Samantha. Not today. Despite the hours of rest, she felt heavy and weary.
Michael looked up at her. "Where are you going?"
"To bed. Why don't you come lie beside me for a few hours? I don't have to see Viktor's attorneys until this afternoon." She turned and walked down the short hall. As she walked into the bedroom she paused, "Michael?" she asked. "What did you hunt?"
"Boar."
