“What about your parents?”

Avery frowned at the abruptness of the question and the question itself. “What about my parents?”

He shrugged slightly. “Well, what was your relationship with them like?”

The vice on her chest tightened. “I don’t know. I was a kid.”

“You were ten. You must remember them.”

Her skin felt too tight. She scratched the nape of her neck and looked into the fireplace, escaping the penetrating darkness of Brennus’ gaze. She got the creepy feeling he knew her thoughts before she did. “I don’t know. They were great. They loved me… I don’t know.” She shrugged again and her eyes prickled with frustrated tears. Angry tears. Self-directed angry tears. “I guess I was kind of a brat.”

“Brat, how?”

Avery laughed hollowly. “They did a lot of things for me. Mostly because I would throw a fit otherwise.”

The corner of Brennus’ mouth quirked up. “Sounds like every kid on the planet.”

She shook her head. “Not every kid. I mean… I really pushed them.” She snorted thinking back. “When I was six we were in the department store and I saw this gorgeous doll house, big enough for me to fit in. It must have cost a fortune because when I said I wanted it, my mom, who spoiled me rotten, said maybe for Christmas. So I got inside the doll house and wouldn’t come out. The manager came over, other customers were looking. Ugh. My mom was so embarrassed she bought the house. I think I played in it twice.” She shook her head, that deep buried guilt starting to burrow its way out. “When I was eight, I watched Something to Talk About with my mom and decided I needed a pony. I gave my parents the silent treatment for an entire month.” She raised her eyebrows ignoring his smirk. “Do you have any idea how difficult that is for a little girl? A month of no talking. My parents were going out of their minds, arguing with one another, my dad telling my mom to give in, my mom telling him they had to have some boundaries. God, I remember it like it was yesterday. Anyway… they eventually signed me up for riding lessons and the first time they put me on the horse I screamed and cried, terrified of the damn thing. My mom was pretty smug about that to my dad.”

Brennus was shaking with laughter. “You sound horrifying.”

She wanted to laugh at herself. But she couldn’t. “And then when I was ten, our class did a project on capital cities and I was given London. I did all this stuff on Buckingham Palace and the Royal Family, on the Royal Ballet, on the West End… you know, the stuff little girl’s dreams are made of,” she whispered now. “So after another endless semester of tantrums my parents cancelled our annual trip to the Cape and booked us a trip to Europe.”

A chill fell over the room and this time Brennus had nothing to do with it.

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Avery-”

“You know what!” Avery stood up abruptly, a false smile pasted on her face. “I could go pizza for lunch. I know this great place… in Westchester, believe it or not.”

When he smiled softly and stood up to take her hand without saying a word, without forcing her to admit what was buried deep down inside, without forcing her to wonder if she became a person at all or was merely moulded into someone who already existed because she was the kind of girl who hadn’t gotten her parent’s killed, Avery’s heart seemed to miss a couple of beats. Willpower, she whispered inwardly, willpower.

***

“You know I was a real dick when I was a mortal.”

Avery nearly choked on her pizza at Brennus’ random comment. She snorted and coughed, trying not to laugh harder as he grinned wickedly at her.

They were sitting in Papa’s Pizza eating the most delicious pepperoni pizza she had ever tasted, munching in comfortable silence as she tried to shrug off her moment of naked vulnerability with him. He had gotten things out of her that no one had. And he hadn’t even done anything but ask a couple of ‘innocent’ questions. So when he called himself a dick in a family restaurant, it made her feel better. Just as he intended.

She wiped her mouth with a napkin and smiled. “What were you like?”

He shrugged, smirking. “Not very nice.”

“Oh, come on, you have to give me more than that.”

Brennus nodded, his eyes twinkling. He lay down his slice and wiped his fingers with his napkin. “I was very arrogant.”

Avery snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He laughed and she could see people looking at them from the corner of her eye. She would be searching too for the source of that gorgeous, chocolate laughter. But she knew that wasn’t why they were looking. It startled her to realise that they had been sitting there all this time and until now she hadn’t felt the stares of the public who were intrigued and repulsed by Brennus’ shockingly scarred face. The more time she spent around him, the more the scar just became a part of him. It had stopped bothering her. And when she was with him, she didn’t panic when people stared.

“OK.” He chuckled. “I deserved that. But I mean I was a snob. Arrogant. Superior. Often unkind because of it. Saying it was a different time is no excuse. I believed myself above others and thus they were below my notice or my kindness.”

“Were you physically cruel?” she asked carefully, fearful of his answer.

Brennus shook his head. “I’m a very big man and aware of my physical prowess over others. I knew using it against them could be dangerous and unfair. I was arrogant but I had a little sense of honour. No, mostly I was condescending and curt. I had little patience for most people and very little sympathy for the plight of others.”

“What’s the worst thing you ever did?” It was such a morbid question but if she was to give this man a chance, if she was to have any chance of loving him, then she had to know this stuff. They didn’t have the luxury of time to figure it all out.

Nodding his head, Avery knew Brennus understood that. He sighed heavily and took a sip of his coffee. His face had grown a little stark, like his skin was stretched too tight over the bones of his face. “The worst thing I ever did… was to a friend. Caedmon. We grew up together. Both our families were well off, we were of an age. Very close. And stupid. We got into quite a tangle over women.”

Avery could just imagine them. Two good looking rich boys devastating the town. “What age were you?”

“Sixteen.”

Her jaw dropped and he laughed. It was dark and… roguish. She shivered. “Boys were men at sixteen. And Caedmon and I liked to prove we were the biggest men of our peer group.”

“What happened?”

Brennus exhaled. “His father died, leaving them with debts. His mother prostituted herself and Caedmon couldn’t find work. They were ostracised and I was afraid if I remained friends with Caedmon I would lose my own good standing. So I deserted him.”

“Brennus,” she whispered sympathetically, seeing the guilt he still carried after all these years.

“Caedmon joined auxilia, the corp of the Imperial Roman Army open to imperial subjects who weren’t Roman citizens. They were heavy infantry, did as much as a legionnaire. He left. I never saw him again. But when I became Ankou it was easy to discover truths. He died in action… only a year into his career as a soldier.” Brennus shook his head slowly. “He should have died a wealthy tradesman with a beautiful wife and ten children.”

Avery reached forward and touched his arm gently. “If he stayed he could have died in the plague. Or took a fever. Or drowned. Or-”

He held up his hand cutting her off, a cynical smile curving his lips. “You’re really going to try to rationalise for me?”

Remembering he hadn’t pushed her, she grimaced and pulled back. “You’re right. Sorry. You feel bad for abandoning your friend. I get it.”

He nodded solemnly. “Mayhap I would have grown into a better man… my father was a decent man. Instead I became an immortal and death changed me. I grew up fast.”

Avery nodded, understanding perfectly. “It has a tendency to do that to a person.”

Their gazes caught and her heart sped up. She felt that flush of heat all over.

Worse… she didn’t feel alone anymore.

It’s Gonna Cost You but

You Might Hurt Less

I feel like I’m fighting what I want because of what my world expects from me. My friends would call him creepy stalker guy; Aunt Caroline would say he was too old for me guy; pop culture would say he’s the devil guy; and the person I was five days ago would call him a blackmailing, ruthless son-of-a-bitch guy. And I guess that last part is still kind of true. But I’m not so sure about the other stuff. If he really is that guy that my world describes, shouldn’t I be deterred? Shouldn’t I want to run in the opposite direction? Shouldn’t I be terrified of him? Because I’m not. I’ve never felt safer. I’ve never felt more like a person who isn’t scared to make my own choices… and that in itself scares the crap out of – if that even makes sense.

Last night we took a walk around the estate. I let him hold me. Kiss me. I kissed him back. My lips gave to him what they never gave to Josh. I don’t even feel guilty for that. But I’m scared. Did I say that already? I wasn’t scared last night. Last night we lay on his incredibly comfortable bed… and we talked. I spoke about my mom and dad, which I never do. The kind of people they were. The way they lived. Loved. He told me about eternity. What he’d seen and done. He’s not perfect. He’s made choices maybe some people wouldn’t have but at the same time I don’t think I’ve met a man with more heart. He’s kind of hard to hate. Too easy to lov-

We held hands last night. I woke up entangled in him.

Have you ever had moments of absolute peace? Like nothing can touch you? Only moments, they never last long… but when they do it’s this sense of lightness of being; like you’re so relieved to be happy you kind of cry. Do you ever notice how you cry when you’re angry, frustrated, scared or happy? I rarely cry when I’m sad. I don’t know where that misconception came from. Sadness isn’t hot tears. It’s cold. Numb. Hard.

He’s out; checking things are OK with his spirits. See, I should totally be creeped out.

When he’s gone I lose my battle with my doubts. I’m doubting. Would Caroline really want me give up my life for hers?

She would be so mad if I did…

“Hey, what are you doing?” Brennus strolled into the bedroom, bringing the scent of fresh air and grass with him.

Avery slammed the diary shut. Having mentioned that she was having journal withdrawals, Brennus had promptly produced one for her.

“Writing,” she replied softly, tucking the journal behind her back.

He smirked, throwing her a look. “I’m not going to sneak a peek at your diary like some pre-pubescent girl.”

She snorted, not really picturing Brennus doing anything so undignified. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

Smiling at her, he shrugged off his coat, dropping it lazily onto an armchair. She knew by the change in his body language that his attention was entirely focused on her. As he strolled towards her languidly, Avery felt her breath hitch at his approach. The bed shifted under his weight as he braced his hands on either side of her and leaned down for a kiss. She inhaled his musk, her eyes locked on his, her mouth already falling open. Her hands reached up to clutch at his chest and her heart sped at the feel of his breath across her face. Her skin tingled. His lips brushed across hers softly, one stroke, two. Playful. Teasing. Excruciating. She tried to catch them but he kept drawing back, laughing softly under his breath. Without thought Avery took his face in her hands, cupping his jaw tight. He stiffened, his eyes flaring a little with apprehension. She hadn’t touched his face before. Gulping back anxiety, Avery struggled to breathe normally. She swore she could hear his heart fluttering like a mouse caught between the paws of the neighbour’s cat. Her own picked up pace in response. Tentatively, afraid he’d be angry but needing to do it nonetheless, she trailed the fingertips of her right hand up across his cheek, running over the haggard lines of his scar. He flinched but her hold brook no argument. She followed the lines of his scar over his cheek, nose, his forehead. Brennus’ eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into her touch. Pain flared up her arm shooting for the direction of her heart. She hated the man who had done this to him. But more than that, Avery hated the fact she’d recoiled from him because of it.