Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 35

Balendin - Now

Somehow, we make our way into my bed. We don't do anything besides lie next to each other, our hearts displayed for the both of us to see, and our eyes telling stories that couldn't possibly be said in words.

I think back to how this all started. How I met Peter at the festival, mere moments after I had relieved a human of his soul.

In another universe, I took Peter's soul that night and never regretted it. In another universe, I never fell for him.

"Why were you at the festival that night?" I find myself asking. "You weren't there to drink, so why?"

Peter perks up at the question. "William convinced me to go, but when we got there, he didn't stay for very long."

"Why did you?"

He's quiet for a moment. "I don't know," he admits. "A part of me wanted to stay. To see what the night would bring. If I'm being honest, I hadn't been doing much of anything in the weeks prior."

"Why is that?"

He lets out a breath. "About a week before the festival marked the day I lost someone two years ago. It was too painful to bring myself to do anything after that day."

I nod, processing.

"But I'm trying to not dwell on the past anymore," Peter adds. "And I'm grateful I went. I met you."

I roll my eyes. "I truly don't think you enjoyed meeting me the first time."

He shrugs. "Who's to say?" he says, closing his eyes. "Any other questions?"

"What would you do for love?" I ask, not realizing what I'm doing until the words have already left my lips.

Peter isn't deterred from the question. "I don't know," he says slowly. "I don't think I'll ever know until the moment comes where I have to choose."

"Choose what?"

His eyes flicker open and find mine. "What is and isn't worth being lost for love."

I close my eyes to prevent Peter from seeing the emotion in my gaze.

Am I ready to lose myself for love? For him?

My eyes are closed for such a long time that when I reopen them, I find Peter asleep.

Time passes quickly. All I do is lie here, watching him breathe and live.

It's impossible to tell how long it's been since he fell asleep when my mind starts to wander once again, and it takes everything in me to focus only on him. His eyelids flutter every so often, but he never moves in his slumber.

I refuse to let myself drift off. I would stay awake for centuries if it meant making sure no harm would ever fall upon Peter.

I reach forward, tracing the markings on Peter's skin. He stirs, his warm eyes fluttering open, and causing something inside me to melt. His gaze softens when he realizes it's only me.

"You're still awake," he says, closing his eyes once again and letting his body relax.

"I didn't mean to wake you," I admit, withdrawing my hand.

He takes a deep breath. "You still sound worried. Is everything all right?"

"Of course," I lie. "I couldn't sleep."

"Mm," Peter replies softly. "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

Tomorrow. The thought of it sends chills prickling up my spine.

"Whatever your heart desires," I tell him, my voice quiet.

He makes a soft sound, and I realize sleep is the only thing he desires at the moment.

I lie down, my eyes staying on Peter as he drifts off once again. My heart flutters every time he breathes, reminding me that he is human. That he is alive, and I'm not.

That he can die, and I can't.

And I don't know what I will do if he does.

✧ ✧ ✧

I wake up with a start, my body practically trembling from nerves. I don't remember falling asleep. I told myself I wouldn't—it was too dangerous, too risky to wake up and see him gone.

It's about to happen. I don't know how, but there's something new in the air. A feeling that tells me Peter's time is running out.

When I sit up, Peter's not tangled in the sheets beside me. I don't have time to think before I scramble into a standing position, looking around for Peter.

"Peter?" I call out, momentarily thankful that it's Vincent's voice that escapes me and not some stranger's.

No response.

I throw open the bedroom door and rush into the living room. That's when I see him sitting on the couch, facing away from me, his head turned downward.

I sigh in relief and approach him. "God, Peter," I say. "Don't scare me like that."

When I make it to the other side of the couch, I realize he's twirling something in his hands. It's his bracelet, with the same dark crystal, but it's dirtier, as if it's aged ten years in the past day.

That's when I spot another, identical bracelet on his wrist.

The one he holds is not his own.

He looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. "How did you get this?" he asks, his voice quiet yet deadly.

I blink, memories flooding in my mind. "It was a long time ago."

He stands and steps forward so quickly I nearly raise my hands in defense. "Two years ago?" he spits, his eyes wide and searching. "When the apothecary caught on fire? The day she died?"

My eyes widen, my thoughts turning into thunderous storms. "You," I whisper. "You're the one she spoke of."

He looks as if he saw a ghost. He grows unsteady on his feet and has to take a step back. "You were there when she died—that's how you have this," he says, coming to the realization. "Did you do this to her?" He barks it so loudly I nearly flinch.

"No," I say, my voice firm. "But I was there."

He lets out an exasperated laugh that sends violent chills ripping across my body.

"Don't lie to me," he says. "I saw the aftermath of that fire. No one would have survived, let alone you."

He shoves the bracelet in his pocket and storms off towards the front door. I follow after him, grabbing his shoulder before he can grab the handle.

"Don't—" I start, but he whips around so fast it silences me.

"I'm going," he says, his hands curled into fists by his sides. "And I'm staying away until you can explain to me how you could have possibly gotten Althea's bracelet without being the one who killed her."

The front door opens and he slips out into the night. When he slams the door, I can barely hear it. The memories of that night come so fast, I can barely step away from the door before I get lost in them.