“You do notice the blood leaking from your eyes, ears, and nose every time you get a new memory? That’s a massive cerebral hemorrhage, so your own body is telling you to leave this alone. Didn’t the Grim Reaper also warn you that pursuing your memories could destroy your mind?”
“He did,” Ian said at once. “I told him I wanted my memories back regardless, and he, a creature who had no regard for me, still respected my decision. Why can’t you?”
I’d tried avoidance, half-truths, outright lies, and fake personas. Nothing had worked. Might as well go with the truth.
“Because you’re right! Yes, sex with you was amazing. Yes, I know why you killed yourself, and yes, I remember your last words. That’s why I can’t bear to talk about them. Back then, I felt things for you I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in thousands of years. And I did respect your wishes. That’s why, when you insisted on facing Dagon with me, I didn’t stop you, and what happened? You fucking died.”
I found myself heaving in breaths as if the sobs I’d been holding back were now beating against the confines of my body.
“People die, Veritas.” Ian’s voice was soft, yet no less emphatic. “It doesn’t mean you were wrong to respect my wishes. It simply means no one is immortal.”
“I used to be,” I muttered.
“What?” he said sharply.
Damn whatever it was about Ian that always led me to spill my secrets! “Never mind. What’s important is that if you remember everything, you could end up with the vampire version of brain death. You hide your brilliance to manipulate your enemies because they all make the mistake of underestimating you, so are you going to risk all that knowledge for a few details that have no bearing on your life now?”
“Yes.”
I slammed my fists against my legs hard enough to crack the bones. Ian’s gaze darkened with concern. I seized on that like a drowning person grabbing at a lifeline.
“Fine, you don’t care about the danger to yourself? What about the danger to me?”
Now I had his full attention. “What danger?”
This was more than I wanted to reveal, but if it would stop him from finding out the rest, I’d let it rip.
“Know when I started having my split personality problem? After you died in front of me. I didn’t even know my other nature could break free, but she did. Now”—I gave a frustrated swipe at myself—“if I’m not careful, she’ll take permanent control. So, if you feel any gratitude for me bringing you back from the dead, don’t endanger me by staying, or by pressing me for details that endanger you, because in case you haven’t noticed, she bursts free whenever you’re in danger.”
He’d been listening with furrows dug into his features, but at the finale of what I thought was a good argument for him to get the hell out of there, his frown smoothed.
“Ah, I see the problem.” His tone was so light, it was almost cheerful. “You’re so strong, it’s been ages since you’ve been knocked on your arse. You’re also so brave, it must’ve been even longer than that since you’ve felt fear. I’ve had more recent experience with both, so let me remind you: when you’re knocked down, you get back up, and when you’re afraid, you press on regardless. As the saying goes, sometimes you have to kick the darkness until it bleeds daylight. Besides, fear can be a good thing. It reminds you not to take what you care about for granted.”
“Take for granted?” I repeated in disbelief. “Did you listen to anything I said?”
“I listened to all of it, and both of us know that ignoring a problem won’t make it go away. Also,” he flashed a charming smile, “your blocking spell might stall Dagon now, but it won’t stymie him forever. Do you truly want me out there with only a ghost to watch over me?”
He’d just put into words everything I’d been worried about. “You’re using my fear to manipulate me. Whatever happened to pressing past my fears?”
His flash of teeth wasn’t a smile. It was a warning. “Did you think I’d play fair? I won’t, and since you’re being truthful, I’ll be equally frank: I don’t care that demons are after you. I don’t care that you have a warring nature of indeterminate supernatural origin, and I don’t care that you’re afraid of what you feel for me. I only care that you do feel it, and since you admitted that, I’ll let you in on another secret.”
Suddenly, he was gripping my shoulders, while his gaze was the real weight that kept me rooted where I stood.
“I might not remember my last words, but this whole time, I’ve remembered what I felt when I said them.”
Chapter 13
The statement hit me like a full-body blow. His last words had been could have loved you. All this time since, I’d believed everything Ian had felt for me was lost along with his memories.
“How?” I asked in as calm a voice as I could manage.
A brow rose. “I woke up in that whorehouse with a pounding headache and a burning conviction that I was supposed to be somewhere else, with someone else. None of Crispin’s lies dissuaded me. At one point, I said, ‘Where is she?’ Then your father showed up. Crispin nearly fainted, but I told Crispin he was only seeing what he feared on this side of the veil.”
“How?” I burst out without any calmness this time. “The Warden told me he’d erased every part of your time with me!”
Ian’s grip on my shoulders became caressing. “He told me he said that to ease your pain in case I felt nothing for you, but that when emotions ran deep, they could never fully be erased.”
The words slammed into me, making me as raw and vulnerable as an exposed nerve. I’d spent my life detaching from people because my survival depended on no one getting close enough to find out my secrets. Now, I was feeling everything and I had no idea how to handle it.
“I’m going to need additional clarification,” I found myself saying. Then I groaned. Over four thousand years of cold survival mentality had me sounding like an IRS agent questioning a taxpayer about a dubious deduction!
He snorted. “To clarify, I might not have known your name, how we came to be together or why you’d left me, but you were not erased. That’s why I was willing to chase you to the point of proving our marriage to a council I despise. It’s also why I’m not going anywhere now. I won’t let a little danger stop me from fighting for what I want.”
The choked sound I made was part laughter and part despair. “It’s more than ‘a little danger,’ and you know it.”
“My favorite kind, then,” he said with a dark laugh.
“You assume I want to start things with you again.” My voice was almost a whisper. “What if I don’t?”
He smiled, sensual and absolutely ruthless. “If you could stop what you felt for me, you already would have, so don’t waste your energy on a battle you will lose.”
A strangled laugh escaped me. “If I didn’t know how much you liked pain, I’d punch you in the face for such conceit.”
His chuckle was drenched with wickedness. “Threats of violence? Now you’re just trying to switch me on, aren’t you?”