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“No reason!” Charlotte flew out of the chair, right toward him. The journal slammed into his chest. “No reason? Because I’m asking for clarification.” The book battered against him once again. “Because I need to know if this is a waste of my time.”
“No.” The answer came without hesitation. He took the journal from her. He didn’t recognize the cover, but he could guess the contents. Something about Judith, about his anchor. Setting it aside, he grabbed her hands and squeezed them firmly. “You are never a waste.”
“But trying to make me an anchor? That’s a waste, isn’t it?” she asked, her tone implying that she had already decided on her answer. Yes, he had wasted her time.
He brushed back a stray curl from her forehead. “I’ve enjoyed the time we spent together. That is not a waste.”
She huffed, unmoved by his attempts to charm her. “Is it even possible to have a second anchor?”
The answer would displease her. “It’s never happened,” he eventually said.
She gave him such an exceptionally dirty look. Blood would curdle. Whole conversations would fall silent in awe of the pure loathing that radiated from his wife.
Because he deserved it. Every unkind thought, every angry word, and certainly all her dirty looks.
“I don’t understand you. Is this arrogance, hubris, or madness?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or just cruelty? You buy the affection of women, luring them into your mountain lair with…with…” Her voice faded as she searched for the correct words. “With trinkets and promises. You need an anchor, you say. A connection to keep you human. All the while, you know nothing will come of it. You already have your anchor. You cannot have another.”
“I did not realize that I was in the presence of such an expert.” Yes, his words were cruel. No, he would not take them back. “Who are you with your handful of years to question my centuries of experience? Hubris indeed.”
“I’ve read accounts—and don’t you dare act as if I’m some empty-headed city girl with stars in her eyes. My knowledge has been put into practice. I helped Solenne be Aleksander’s anchor. And Miles and Luis. And now I know an anchor happens once. Only once. You brought me here for nothing.”
“I have no choice,” he snapped back. “A hunter took Judith from me. She was mine, and now she’s gone. I’ve persisted for a hundred miserable years without my anchor. What would you have me do? Bid farewell to the last of my humanity? Kill everyone on this mountain in a blood-fueled rampage? Burn and pillage towns, creating a path of destruction that leads right to the door of those responsible? Spread my misery until every soul on this wretched planet shares my pain?!”
His voice rose until his words echoed off the walls. His fangs were out, and his fingernails had lengthened into claws. The winter solstice was too close for such an emotional display. His balance was off, his center gone.
Charlotte’s eyes were wide and her heart beat wildly. The rapid pulses were as loud as shouts.
“Charlotte—” He reached for her. He did feel for her. That was not a lie.
She flinched and his hand fell away. “Don’t touch me,” she said, rushing to the door.
Instinct urged him to chase her down. Make her see. Make her his.
Instinct could go fuck itself.
Draven poured himself a drink and stood by the fire, waiting until he heard the door slam.
He hadn’t thought of Judith in ages, which was odd considering how her absence shaped everything. He could barely remember the details of her. Did she smile easily? He couldn’t recall. Her mouth tugged down into a frown when she concentrated, but the sound of her voice? Gone. All he had was the hole in his life where she used to fit.
He kept shoving new women into that gap to fill the void, but it never worked. They weren’t her, even though he could barely remember the qualities that made her her. He was hungry. Always hungry. An unceasing wail, demanding and devouring.
After her death, Draven scrubbed away all traces of Judith. Every image. Her clothing burned. Her journals were destroyed. Her workshop was dismantled. No one dared to speak her name, lest they find themselves separated from their tongue. Eventually, all he had was hunger’s constant companionship.
Charlotte was the first one to make him feel that there could be more to existence than merely existing.
“Damn it!” He hurled the glass into the fireplace. Glass shattered against stones.
Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte
The Aerie
Charlotte’s Bedroom
Running from the tower through a snowstorm in the middle of the night with no coat was not ideal. Snow soaked through her slippers and froze her feet. By the time she reached her rooms, she was a frozen, miserable mess.
At least her appearance matched how she felt.
