Page 35 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

Love is Suicide

Fog coated the mirror before I wiped it off with a blue hand towel.

Steam surrounded me, and the bathroom sparkled, reflecting the sunlight cascading through the small window over the toilet.

I scoffed when I could finally see my own reflection, and then winced.

Never before had I ever looked or felt this wrecked .

Dark circles weighed down my round blue-gray eyes.

A pale sheen marred the olive undertone to my complexion, and the scattered scrapes from my hands to my dimpled chin didn’t help.

Sighing, I unwrapped the towel around my midriff and grimaced at the bruises across my left hip and rib cage.

Taking in every battle wound with idle curiosity, my focus caught on my right forearm.

Two scabbed puncture holes remained over my wrist where my green veins ran to the crook of my arm.

My mind’s eye conjured up the image of the indents Drake’s teeth had created, pressure marks against my skin right after he’d bitten me.

The glint in his eyes when he’d first tasted my blood, and then how fast and strong he’d become when it had healed him.

A shiver shook my shoulders despite the house’s warm temperature. From the mirror, I watched the red of embarrassment spread from my chest and up my neck. It was so stupid to indulge in the memory since it could never happen again.

Pushing the romanticized thoughts from my mind, I patted my body dry, and the humid moisture from my shower almost made me break into a sweat.

Winston’s borrowed sweatshirt was luxuriously baggy across my broad shoulders, but the waistband of the pants had to be hiked up to my waist to sit comfortably above my wide hips.

Cooler air hit my face when I left the bathroom, leaving the ruined dress behind in the wastepaper basket.

The woolen socks on my feet kept my steps down the stairs silent as I followed the smell of coffee through the quiet house.

At the end of the hall, another three doors were closed to the right, but the kitchen was immediately to the left.

Crisp morning air permeated the space, smelling like pine needles, and I inhaled deeply.

Glancing around the kitchen, I raised my eyebrows, impressed by the stainless steel appliances and marble countertop.

Goofy slogans were strung up on the walls, and I smirked at There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’ but there is in ‘kitchen.’

Smiling, my attention landed on the empty cup beside the coffee pot—right next to a ceramic plate with the most heavenly-looking sandwich I’d ever set my eyes on.

I was already salivating before pulling off the Saran wrap, and poured myself a tall cup of coffee while simultaneously digging into the Italian bread holding together tomato, lettuce, salami and ham.

A moan rumbled in my chest while I chewed fast to swallow and take another bite.

The sandwich was half-engulfed by the time I took a swig from my coffee.

I swore I could feel my neurons firing in bliss.

As my chewing slowed, I registered the voices filtering in from the cracked-open window over the sink.

The deep timbre to Winston’s words trailed off, and the soothing sound of Drake’s light Eastern European accent became discernible as he spoke an answer. Quickly swallowing my most recent bite, I moved closer to unapologetically eavesdrop.

Winston said, “Definitely explains why I haven’t heard from you in almost a week. Had the bed all made up and fresh pig’s blood in the fridge just for you. Ended up using it to make blodpudding , sorry about that.”

“Plans had changed,” Drake replied, and then inhaled deeply. Cigarette smoke drifted on the breeze, and my shoulders sagged. It didn’t smell like the same brand Ethan smoked, but close enough to be a painful reminder of the distance between here and home.

“Clearly.” Winston’s reply was dry, expecting to hear more. I stood on my tiptoes to get closer to the window.

“Aiden intervened, as he is wont to do without consulting me.” Bitterness tinged Drake’s voice, but a certain amount of acceptance tempered it.

“He manipulated Maria into finding me before I could make the crossing. I had been awaiting Aiden to bring me the weapon he promised. Which he delivered through Maria, much to her misfortune.”

The orb, I guessed. I leaned over the sink, careful not to get my borrowed sweatshirt wet while I strained to hear more.

“Ezra caught up to me much sooner than I had anticipated, and Maria was taken entirely unawares. She fought beside me while still reeling from the truth of the Domnitori.”

“That’s bad luck,” Winston commented, taking a long drag from what I assumed was a cigarette.

“Yes.” A pause, and then Drake’s tone turned somber. “I could not abandon her, either time. If I had, then my survival would become meaningless.”

“I know… You’ve felt that way for a long time. I’m glad the girl has given you back a sense of purpose.”

Drake scoffed. “A selfish endeavor, on my part. Keeping Maria safe is now all I hope to achieve after this mess of events.”

I rocked back from the stainless-steel basin, feeling warm despite the cool air trickling in. Glancing around the room, I glimpsed the sliding glass doors beside a round breakfast table on the other side of the bar-style counter.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Winston’s words faded to the background as I made my way through the kitchen, past the breakfast nook, and grasped the handle of the sliding glass door. It slid to my left, and I stepped out onto the wooden deck, only to immediately stop short.

A cat slinked inside, brushing against my ankles before seeming to realize that I’d only borrowed its owner’s clothes.

The animal padded deeper into the house, and I closed the glass door behind me, my gaze affixed to the view beyond the deck’s pale wooden railings.

Seeing it in person was so much different than through the windows.

Bright rays of sunshine filtered through sparse tree limbs, rising higher than any that grew back home.

Pines interspersed the naked oaks, their dewy needles reflecting light.

Hidden amidst the scenery, a bird’s song called out into the still morning.

Everything felt slow, maybe because I’d barely slept for a day or more—when the hell had I gotten to that manor?

I didn’t even know what day it was, but I wouldn’t let the ugly memories of the last few days ruin the serenity creeping into my bones.

A deep lungful of air expanded my chest, and I closed my eyes.

The chill breeze brushed against the exposed skin on my face and hands, but holding the mug of coffee kept my fingertips warm.

Now that I was properly clothed for the northern springtime, the temperature wasn’t painful.

Relief seeped in on my exhale, my eyes opened, and my gaze fell on Drake’s—his raven-dark eyes already staring into mine.

Slowly, a smile curved up the corners of his deathly-pale lips, and I swallowed hard.

To keep my heart from speeding up any further, I turned my attention to where Winston was seated on a white lawn chair beside a glass-top table.

A fanciful ashtray rested at the center, smoke curling upward from a forgotten cigarette still smoldering.

Winston’s breath clouded the air, rising to disappear into the bright blue sky above, and he flicked off the excess ash on his half-smoked cigarette.

My nose wrinkled, but a flush climbed my throat when Winston slyly glanced between me and Drake.

“Tina seems to like you,” Winston said, nodding at the house behind me.

“I think she likes the smell of your clothes more than me.” I smiled, which felt strained, and then shook my head when Winston offered his pack of American Spirits. “I don’t smoke, just a caffeine addict.”

“Who isn’t?” Winston shrugged, his easy smile still brimming when he turned to Drake. “Speak of the devil, right?”

A sound of reproach rumbled in Drake’s throat as his eyes narrowed at Winston.

In a placating motion, Winston raised his hands up to his temples, and his cigarette dangled precariously between his middle and forefinger.

Clearly appeased, Drake’s expression brightened when he took a step closer to where I stood.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” I raised the mug to my lips, and smirked at Winston’s laugh, which Drake ignored.

“I can imagine…” Drake’s hand rose toward me a few inches, but stopped. His fingers curled into a fist while his lips pressed together. Since he seemed at a loss, and I didn’t feel like being pitied, I let it all out.

“All I want to do right now is call my family. To tell them that I’m alive, if nothing else.

Which I’m pretty sure is the only thing I can tell them because if I explained that our enemies are a lot more organized than we thought—with their own personal enslaved army of previously-thought-to-be-extinct werewolves and untold stolen wealth—then their first instinct would be to track me down and launch an assault on that manor.

“Except, I can’t let them do that, can I?

Because then they’d all die.” My hands trembled, and I tightened my grip on the mug.

Jaw unclenching, I said, “I know you want to run off and play martyr, get yourself killed to give me time to get away, but I’m just as embroiled in this fucking mess as you are.

Hell, the underwear I spent three days wearing—in a van— is still back at that manor.

I’m as susceptible of being scried for across the continent as you are.

“Besides—” I took a breath, vindicated by Drake’s blank expression, his black eyebrows high, and Winston’s companionable silence.

“If you tried to go back to that awful manor of horrors, even if you do it while I’m sleeping, then I swear I’m going to follow you back there just to pull your ass out this time. And I really don’t want to do that.”