Chapter 12

Charlotte Sanguinite

"You," I breathe, rooted in place out of fear and shock.

The last time I saw Arabella, she was sneering at me, a kind of viciousness in her eyes that no ten-year-old should have. When it came to her appearance, Arabella inherited our father's dark looks, her skin a beautiful olive shade, her eyes a sharp green, and her hair black as a raven's, falling to her waistline like a waterfall. As a child, she was cute, but as an adult, she's gorgeous. Her cheekbones are sharp, her eyes almost catlike in shape. She has lost all her chubbiness, her figure slim like a model's.

Compared to her, I look like a frumpy maid, with my hair in disarray, my curvy figure, and the bags under my eyes.

I see the way my sister looks at me, her eyes running up and down my body in a horrid mixture of disdain, disgust, and delight.

"I always thought you died the night Father threw you out." She giggles, covering her mouth with her perfectly manicured fingers. "I saw you the other day, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I just had to check. I'm so glad that I did. Look at you. How are you more pathetic than you were back then?!"

The sound of her laugh is like soft bells, easy on the ears. Vampires have exaggerated beauty. It's not talked about, but I have never met an ugly vampire. The stronger the blood, the more striking their looks. However, Arabella's sharp tongue and the maliciousness in her eyes paint a harsh picture.

I don't know why she's here. Her motives worry me.

"I see you're doing well for yourself," I murmur, not wanting to agitate her. I know firsthand how she reacts when she doesn't get her way. And this time, there is nobody here to stop her.

"Of course I am." She flips her hair with her hand, sneering at me. "Father sent me to one of the top fashion schools in Paris. I have my own clothing line." She rolls her eyes at me. "Not that I would expect you to know anything about that. You can't afford even a scrap of clothing from my stores."

I press my lips together, wanting to retort, but common sense telling me to zip it. I can't take any risks right now. If Arabella attacks me, I can't fend her off for long. So, whatever she's throwing my way, I just have to bear it.

Her brows knit together in irritation when I don't respond. "What? You lost your tongue, too? You sure seemed to have a lot to say back when you lived in the compound."

"What's the point?" I shrug. "We're both adults. I'm happy you're thriving."

She tightens her jaw. "And look at you. A servant. You sure fell a long way. Don't you have any shame, Charlotte? If I were you, I would have killed myself a long time ago rather than scrub floors on my hands and knees."

"We all have to work to survive," I say dully.

Seeing my sister is the kind of blast from the past I don't need.

"Not all of us," Arabella sneers. "It's funny to see you like this. I always knew you didn't deserve to be part of our clan, a useless, broken creature like you."

I got so used to those insults that they don't bother me anymore. But a piece of my heart breaks once again when I look at the beautiful woman before me. She's the same age as Jazz. There was a time when Arabella used to cling to me. After our mother died, a few months after Arabella was born, I helped raise her. Our father was never interested in childcare, and my mother had loved me. I wanted Arabella to feel some of that love. I did everything for her that a child my age could have done, right down to changing her diapers. She would look up at me with her big, adoring eyes.

When did that adoration turn to hatred?

It's painful looking at her and knowing that at some point in her life, she decided I was worthless. I have hated Clyde, loathed my father, but I never once hated Arabella. Perhaps because I knew love from her, once upon a time.

A foolish spark of hope ignites in my chest. She came all the way here; perhaps, under the insults, there's a part of her that wants to reconnect.

"Would you like a coffee?" I ask suddenly. "We're closed, but I can set up one of the machines for you."

She scoffs. "Sure."

The flicker grows bigger. "What kind do you want?"

"Something hot."

A small smile curves on my lips as I begin to prepare her a cup. "So, Paris, huh? You must've excelled in your studies. I can't believe you're a designer now. What's the name of your brand?"

"Rose Tralin," she says smugly. "And what have you been doing since Father kicked you out? How did you even survive? Clyde and I had a bet going. He said you'd end up a hooker. I was sure you'd be fodder for the animals in the woods. I mean, who would pay to see you naked, right? Guess neither of us won that bet."

Her words are like barbs, but I brush them off as I froth her milk.

"Fortunately, I survived," I say quietly.

"But what do you do?" she persists.

Some age-old instinct warns me not to offer too much information. Pushing down the excitement at her curiosity about my life, I shrug. "I work here some days, but that's it."

"So, if you didn't exist, nobody would care, huh?" There is a cruel edge to her laughter, and my smile slips away, my heart throbbing.

"I have friends," I find myself protesting. "They would care."

Arabella laughs. "I doubt it. But what's it to me? Clean toilets all you want."

I turn around and place the coffee in front of her. "So, how have you—"

My question is cut off with a scream as she opens the lid and throws the piping hot coffee all over my face. Stumbling back in agony, I whimper, my hands hovering over my eyes as Arabella laughs mockingly.

"Did you think this was a sister bonding moment? You think somebody of my status would have anything to do with something as lowly and trash as you?" She leaps across the counter, grabs me by the back of my hair, and slams my head into the counter.

She intends to kill me, I realize, my face burning. She slams my head down again. Survival instincts kicking in, I seize her by the arm, and using all my strength, I toss her to the side. Not expecting me to retaliate, her grip loosens, and she falls to the ground.

Her eyes narrow at me. "You bitch! How dare you?!"

When she flies at me, I try to dodge her attack, but she's fast, and I'm no match against anything supernatural. She manages to get her claws in my shoulders and slashes down, making me scream in pain as she tears my flesh.

Her laughter is a cruel, mocking sound.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you." She grabs me by the neck and hurls me at the tables and chairs. I can feel a snap inside my body as I fall to the ground, and I know I've broken something. Still not ready to give up, I grab one of the chairs and position it between us, ready to defend myself to my last breath.

"Didn't you hear me?" She vaults over the counter, and I reach into my back pocket, my ribs aching. "I'm not going to kill you. What I am going to do is remind you of your worth. What did I tell you? You're not even good enough to lick the bottom of my shoe. Tell me, Charlotte, why haven't you killed yourself yet? Nobody wants you. So just die already."

She's getting closer. My hand tightens around the taser in my back pocket. Ever since my run-in with the vampires outside the animal shelter, I've started carrying one. It's always fully charged, but I've never actually tested it against anyone, much less a vampire.

As soon as Arabella is close enough, I bring out the taser and dig it into the side of her neck. She lets out a strangled noise of pain, but before I can give her a sufficient jolt to incapacitate her long enough for me to escape, she grabs my wrist, twisting it and forcing me to drop the taser.

The backhanded slap I receive has my head spinning.

She digs her knees into my chest, and I gasp for breath.

She looks annoyed. "You never used to fight back this much. Not that it's going to make any difference now. Something like you shouldn't exist, Charlotte. You're a waste of space, a waste of breath. I always told Father he should have ripped off your limbs and tossed you into the woods to be food for the wild animals. At least your life would have amounted to something then!"

Her words stab me in the heart, but I don't stop struggling.

For years, I have battled low self-esteem, taught myself that I matter. If not to my family or to humans, or to anyone, then I matter to the animals I care for. They depend on me. They need me. They love me.

I'm not worthless. I may not matter to anybody else, but I matter to the one-eyed feline who's waiting for me at home, patiently.

Tears burn my eyes.

Mano is waiting for me. She needs me.

With renewed strength, I try to push Arabella off me, screaming, "Leave me alone!"

"Stop fighting back!" Arabella punches me in the throat, and I choke.

I can't breathe!

She realizes what she just did and presses her heel down against my neck, laughing all the while. "Look at you. You're so weak. You can't even defend yourself! Why are you even alive, Charlotte?"

Her laughter grates my ears as I gasp for oxygen. My attempts at fighting her off are weakening.

She lowers her head. "I'm going to leave you with a gift, sister. Every time you look in the mirror, you'll remember how ugly you are, how utterly unwanted, unloved, and undesired."

Her nails dig into my left cheek, then she presses them deeper, tearing my flesh. As she drags them down, I can't even scream. I can hardly breathe. Amid the pain, I can see black spots in front of my eyes.

My hands fall limp by my side, and I fleetingly worry about Mano. Who'll take care of her once I'm gone? She's going to be all alone. I hope Ricky takes her in. Or Angie.

Robert's face swims into my mind, and I feel a pang of regret. If I had known I was going to die like this, I wouldn't have been so mean to him. He's so sweet to me. Nobody's ever been so sweet to me, so gentle. I should have said yes.

I can feel Arabella mauling my face, but the pain is a distant feeling. Darkness is dragging me in, bit by bit, whispering to me that my torment has finally ended. Maybe my next life will be better. Maybe somebody will love me in my next life.

Suddenly, the pressure on my neck disappears, and my body reacts instantly, trying to suck in all the oxygen it can. As my back arches, I hear a scream.

Arabella.

Using the fallen chair by my side to support myself into a sitting position, I see a familiar-looking man holding Arabella by the neck against the wall. She's trying to fight him off, but my sister, strong as she may be, is no match against an Alpha.

Her eyes are bulging from her head, and even now, all I can see is the sweet, adoring gaze of the little child I taught how to walk. Tears spill from my eyes.

"...on't."

My voice is raspy, and it's hard to speak. My throat hurts so bad.

"...bert."

He'll kill her!

I don't know how I manage to get to my feet, but the movement gets Robert's attention, and when he turns to look at me as I stand there, swaying on the spot, I see the amber color of his eyes. I'm looking at his wolf right now.

"...ister. S—She is—She's my sister."

I garble the words, stumbling toward him. He doesn't hesitate, dropping Arabella to the floor in a heartbeat. I'm in his arms now, and he holds me to his chest protectively, growling under his breath.

I clutch his jacket, wondering why the raw fury in his eyes soothes my soul so much. "Sh—She's my sister. You can't—can't kill her. P—Please."

His hand smooths over my cheek, and his eyes tighten. "She tried to kill you."

His tone is deep, a meld between his human voice and the raspy growl of the wolf.

I shake my head, finding it difficult to say anything further. Everything hurts.

I hear footsteps, and I look at the doorway to see the back of Arabella's dress as she runs for her life. My body sinks into Robert's, and I close my eyes, unable to hold on, unable to fight this creeping darkness. All I know is that I'm safe.

Robert will protect me.

******

It's the wetness against my cheek that makes me stir.

Groaning, I open my eyes and see Robert's face. For a brief moment, I feel confused and dizzy. And then, I register the pain. Along with the pain come the memories of what happened.

I try to sit up, but Robert holds me down. "Easy. Not yet. You're in no condition to move."

"I have to—I have to see the damage."

"Don't worry about it." He strokes my hair. "I've taken care of it. You need to rest."

"Arabella?"

"Gone. I didn't kill her." Robert's eyes harden as he tells me that. I let out a sigh of relief, and he gives me a strange look. "She was going to kill you, Charlotte."

I close my eyes, my heart heavy. "I'm a fool."

"I won't disagree with you right now," Robert murmurs, but his tone is soft and gentle. I want to bury myself in his arms and hide away from this cruel world and my crueler fate.

There's a knock on the door, and I open my eyes to see a young woman peeking in. "Harry called me."

"Thanks, Maria." Robert is about to get up, but my fingers dig into his sleeve. It's an automatic response, but instead of saying anything, he simply moves closer and wraps his hand around mine.

"I'm not going anywhere." He looks up at Maria. "Can you heal her?"

Maria comes forward, but there is hesitation in her steps. "She's a vampire."

"Yes."

She swallows, and I can see her nervousness. I give her a tiny smile, half delirious from the pain radiating from every inch of my body. "You don't have to do this. I'll be fine."

"No, she won't," Robert says tightly. "Can you try to heal her, Maria?"

"I've never tried healing a vampire," the woman says slowly, "but I can try. Can you move back a bit, Robert?"

Robert slides over, but his grip on my hand doesn't fade.

Maria sets her bag on the ground before spreading her hands over my body, a couple of inches away from my skin. I feel a warm, tingling sensation, and my eyes flutter shut.

"Broken ribs, a bad concussion," Maria begins to murmur. "Her wrist is badly sprained. There's also internal bleeding."

Her hands come to a stop a few minutes later, and she looks me in the eye. "I think I might be able to heal your internal injuries, but I can't do anything about the external ones or the concussion."

"What do you mean?" Robert demands. "Her external injuries—"

"They'll have to be treated like normal wounds," Maria replies, her brow furrowed. "I don't know how to explain it. My healing ability cannot work on her exterior wounds."

"But you can fix the bones and everything else, right?" I ask her.

She nods, a jerky movement of her head.

I can see the unwillingness in her eyes, and I glance at Robert. "Can I have a minute with her, please?"

"Why?"

"Please," I repeat, already exhausted.

It's evident that Robert doesn't want to leave my side right now, but I need to talk to Maria alone. Reluctantly, he steps out of the cafe's back office, where he must have brought me after I passed out.

"Can he hear us?" I ask after a minute.

Maria checks the small hallway and shakes her head mutely.

"Listen, I know you're uncomfortable doing this," I tell her, my expression steady despite the pain. "You don't have to do anything. You can just tell Robert you tried and it didn't work."

I'm well aware of how shifters view my kind. Being forced to heal a vampire might not be something this young healer appreciates. The girl is silent for a moment, and then she says softly, "Are you and Robert close?"

"I—" My answer gets stuck in my throat. "I don't know."

"Well, you matter to him," she says, her voice determined now. "So, I'll help you."

By the time Robert comes back, Maria has begun healing me. I never knew that wolf healing magic could work on vampires, but I can feel the bones mending within me. It's not without pain, but I bear it. Throughout the process, Robert doesn't ask any questions, nor does he leave my side even once. I can hear movement outside, but I don't have the strength to ask what is going on.

I don't know how long it takes for my internal injuries to heal fully, but some of the pain finally begins to fade away. I feel tender inside, but it's much better than the agonizing sensations.

Lowering her hands, Maria looks at Robert. "I can't do any more than this. For the external injuries, she's going to have to let her vampiric healing kick in."

When Robert glances at me, I don't say anything. He knows I won't heal. If anything, I'm going to have to take extra care of the injuries to make sure none of my wounds get infected. My face is hurting, but it's a dull throb.

"Thank you," I say, meeting Maria's gaze.

She hesitates before giving me a small smile. "I hope you get better soon."

"Thanks, Maria." Robert gets up to give her a one-armed hug.

"I should warn you," she whispers. "Harry is pissed."

"I know." Robert pats her head as if she's little more than a child. "Have him drop you off at home. I'll make sure everything is wrapped up here before I take Charlotte home."

As Maria turns around, Robert says quietly, "And Maria? Not a word."

She nods.

He walks her out, and in the meantime, I try to sit up. My legs feel weak, my insides like jelly. Grabbing the side of the couch I'm on, I struggle to stand up straight and look into the small mirror hanging on the wall. My breath catches as I see the reason for the stinging sensation on the left side of my face. There are three deep grooves in my cheek, the flesh open and revealed.

I stare at my reflection, feeling numb.

She scarred me.

There's no grief right now, no shock, just something heavy blanketing all the emotions. I have a dark bruise on my forehead from where she slammed it against the counter multiple times, and there's blood on the side of my head. I know there will be contusions all over my body.

"How can somebody hate someone so much?" I whisper, bone-deep exhaustion settling inside me.

I don't want to cry or scream.

I just want to go home, curl up under a blanket, and be surrounded by silence.

The door opens, and when he walks in, Robert hisses, "You shouldn't be standing!"

"I'm okay," I say, my voice a threadbare whisper.

He doesn't seem to care what I think and guides me back to the couch. "I'm going to get a first aid kit. Where do you keep it?"

"Under the counter out front."

He strides away, and I stare at the wall in front of me, feeling drained. My face hurts, but my heart hurts more.

It was foolish to entertain the hope that Arabella had any positive intention in her desire to see me. As she demeaned me and said all those vile things, why didn't I let my brain work? Why was I so desperate to reconnect with her? I haven't forgotten a single abuse I bore at her hands.

I close my eyes and press my palms against them. "God, you're stupid."

"Now that's just mean." Robert enters the room, and when I open my eyes, I see he's holding the first aid kit.

"I wasn't saying that to you."

"I know." He crouches next to me, his voice gentle. "I'm going to clean you up, okay? And no trash-talking yourself, please. You're not very good at it."

My lips twitch without warning, and I immediately wince, my torn flesh burning at the movement.

"Easy there," Robert says, his voice pleasant but his eyes flashing. Dabbing alcohol onto some cotton gauze, he warns, "This is going to hurt."

Leaning forward, he gently swabs my wound. I squeeze my eyes shut when the contact sets my skin on fire.

"Just bear with it a little."

He sounds tense, and I open my eyes. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. Thank you for helping me."

Robert seems to be contemplating something, and he doesn't respond straight away. Taking his time, he finally says, "She had every intention of killing you."

I'm silent.

He meets my gaze when I don't say anything. "Were you going to let her?"

"No," I whisper hollowly. "I was fighting back, but you saw how that went. I couldn't hold her off."

He appears to be about to say something else and then changes his mind.

"Just because you're physically weaker than a vampire doesn't mean you can't fight them off," he tells me, throwing away the bloodied gauze and preparing a new one. "You just need to know where to hit them."

"I've taken self-defense classes, karate classes, and any other class I could find," I begin, but Robert shakes his head.

"Humans teach you how to defend yourself, Charlotte. When you're facing the kind of enemy you just did, your aim shouldn't be to defend yourself. You fight to kill."

His voice is grave, and I freeze.

"You want me to kill?"

Robert looks at me. "You may look human, and you may be like them, little vampire, but you're not a human. You merely exist in their world. You are still a vampire, and you need to know how to keep yourself alive. If one comes after you, you aim to kill. Always. It doesn't matter who they are. What matters is your survival."

"It's not that easy for me to take a life," I whisper hoarsely. "Even when Droga and the other vampire attacked you—"

"What?" Robert is stunned. "You knew them?"

"I knew one of them." I don't meet his gaze, feeling guilty for not telling him sooner. "He was my brother Clyde's friend. He constantly harassed me when I still lived in my clan. He and Clyde both. I didn't tell you because—"

"—because you knew I'd figure out that you belonged to the Nelo Clan," Robert finishes my sentence, his voice calm. "Or did you think I'd figure out that you are the oldest daughter of the leader of that clan?"