Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(143)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“A magic bond.” I smiled to myself.

“Yeah,” he said. “And, you know what’s great about it?”

“It’s not solid?” I joked.

“Funny tonight, aren’t we?” He pinched my cheek. “No, what’s great is that we don’t know much about it. Right now, it’s just a mysterious form of energy. Imagine the things we can dream from that—imagine what may be possible if we could study it—harness it. Maybe all the magic of life is hiding up there, inside that secret. ”

“So you believe in magic now?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know, but then, if there’s no magic in the world, what are we?”

“Well, you’re the result of a genetic polarity that’s been triggered by vampire venom to change the way your cells interact with the universe and each other.”

Jason lifted my hand into his, threading his fingers through mine. “And you are simply a miracle.”

I looked at the stars all the way over to my right so he wouldn’t see my probably very red cheeks. “Why do they twinkle?”

“Who?”

“The stars, dummy.” I backhanded him; he caught my wrist before impact.

“Astronomical scintillation.”

“What the hell?”

He grinned, kissing the back of my hand, then tucked it into his chest. “The light has to come through the atmosphere before we see it, and the interference of various elements bends that light, giving stars the appearance of twinkling.”

“Well, that’s not very magical.”

“I know.” He leaned his head on top of mine. “But it doesn’t mean they’re not wishing stars. Nothing is impossible until you’ve proven it impossible.”

“Huh?”

“I mean that, until you can give me proof that each and every one of those stars in the sky cannot and will not ever have the capacity to grant a wish, then I, and you, have every right to believe they will.”

I bit my smiling lip. “David says wishing is good time wasted.”

He laughed. “Do you know where he got that from?”

“Where?”

“My father.”

“Really?” I sat up and looked at him.

“Yup. It was Father’s favourite line.”

“Why?”

His shoulder came up to his ear then back down again. “He never had a lot of faith in anything good—especially us boys.”

“I know.” I looked out at the ocean. “David tries to justify your father’s behaviour.”

“It’s his way of dealing with the abuse.”

I sat back a bit to look at him. “How bad was it?”

“It was worse for David than me.”

“Why? I thought your father saw you as evil or something.”

“Precisely why he saved his fits of rage for the child who was not protected by the devil.”

I covered my mouth. “What did he do to David?”

Jason rested his arms over his knees and leaned forward. “He wanted to break him.”

“His spirit?”

He nodded. “David never cried. Didn’t matter what Father did to him—he never cried.”

“Why?”

“It was his only defence. He wouldn’t give Father the satisfaction.” His jaw came forward a bit, his brows pinching in the middle. “I saw him cry once, though.”

“Did your father see it?”

He shook his head.

“Well, what happened?”

“Father came home drunk one afternoon to find David and I fighting again. He pulled us apart and gave us a lecture about being young men—being good brothers. And David didn’t mean to, but…he laughed. So—” He sniffed once, “—Father threw him into the wall—broke his arm.”

I pressed my palm firmly to my lips.

“He had the maids toss David into the cellar; told them not to open the door until he cried.”

“And he cried?”

“Not in that cellar, no.”

“How did he get out?”

“I was walking home from school a few days later when Uncle Arthur came back into town—just passing through. He asked where David was, and I told him.”

“And he helped?”

Jase nodded, still not really looking at me. “That night, David was in his bed, his arm all bandaged up, and I saw him wipe a tear from his cheek.”

The picture of the lonely scene made me ache all over. “Did you comfort him?”

He shook his head, breathing out, and I could see that he was reliving that memory, because he just couldn’t stop shaking his head. “David and I had grown apart more and more by that stage. We loved each other, but for me to acknowledge his pain would have been to humiliate him. So, I blew out the lantern and went to bed with a pillow over my head.”

“You poor, poor things.”

“Come on.” He stood up, grabbed my arm gently and helped me to my feet. “Time to go inside. Your lips are turning blue.”

“Not yet.”

“Yes. Look at you, you’re shaking.”

“But—” I pinched the hem of my dress.

“What’s wrong, Ara?”

“I…I’ve hardly spent any time with you since you’ve been here.”

“We can come out here again,” he suggested. “And I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

I nodded, looking at my feet. “Do you think…Can…when we get back to the manor, can you stay with me for a bit?”

“Stay?”

“Mm-hm.”

He grew a little taller, and the wind moved under his arms as he rubbed his head, brushing a mix of his cologne and him across my nose. “Ara, I want to—God knows, but it’s late.”

“Well, I’m not ready to go to bed yet.”

“Yes, you are. I can see how tired you are.” He ran his icy thumb across the skin under my eye.

“I know, but, I like spending time with you, Jase—time that’s not just a dream.”

“Aw, you sweet thing.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “How can I possibly resist that?”

The stars faded, keeping the secrets of this pair who sat talking all night, watching the sun rise in each other’s company. There were so many things I wanted to ask him—so many things I wanted to say, but each time my thoughts brushed on horrors of the past—things he locked inside as his own torturous regrets—he’d switch the subject. He was fighting a battle inside for what he’d done to me, and he was fighting it alone.