Chapter 14

Charlotte Sanguinite

I don't like depending on others or leaning on people for support. It's a habit formed out of necessity. But Robert is like a force of nature, taking charge of the entire situation, taking care of me.

It's been a long time since someone took care of me, and I don't know what to do about it.

My desire to push Robert away keeps getting weaker and weaker as he barges his way into my life like a bulldozer, crushing the shields I erected around me for my own self-preservation. Perhaps the breaking point for me was when he held me in his arms, telling me that if anything had happened to me, he would have looked after Mano.

It's foolish, but those words pierced my heart, and now I can't look at him the same way.

It frightens me how safe I find his arms and how reassuring his presence is. I know I'm lashing out at him at the moment, and it's immature of me, but I can't help myself. I'm scared. I'm scared of how I feel about him. I'm scared of the position I've put myself in by letting my heart be vulnerable around him. He's an Alpha. I can't understand his intentions in wanting to get to know me, to get so close to me.

My mind keeps jumping to the worst possible conclusion. Logic dictates it to be the truth. And yet, the part of my soul that aches to taste love whispers that maybe he really does want me. That maybe he simply likes me for me. That there doesn't have to be another meaning behind his attraction to me.

Life wasn't supposed to be this complicated. I wasn't supposed to develop feelings for my clan's enemy. Granted, I don't belong to that clan anymore. However, things can't get any more star-crossed than this, and if the plethora of tragic novels I've read are any indication, I shouldn't be expecting a happy ending.

Seeing Ricky waiting for me in the lobby of my apartment building has me relaxing.

However, Robert's reaction surprises me.

"That's Ricky," I tell him as he glowers at the man approaching us now. Robert's expression changes, and he gives me a quick look as if studying my face for something. His grip on my arm eases.

"Sorry, I'm just a little bit on edge right now."

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "This has all been such a hassle for you—"

"That's not it." He takes my bag from me and wraps his hand around mine, looking down at me. "I'm just concerned. If you think your sister can find you here, I don't know if staying in your apartment is the best idea."

I swallow, meeting his gaze. "But it's my home. I don't want to leave my home."

His eyes are gentle. "I'm not saying you should. But until things settle down, maybe you can relocate for a bit. I can make sure somebody keeps an eye on your apartment in the meantime. Or I could help you find a temporary renter so it's maintained while you're not there. I just don't want you to come home to a nasty surprise waiting for you."

The thought of Arabella figuring out where I live was already present in my mind. There was something about the way she was behaving that unsettled me. Almost as if she had to get me out of the way, as if she needed to get rid of me. I don't think she's done with me.

But leave my home? I don't want to do that.

Fortunately, I'm spared the discussion as Ricky reaches us. "This isn't a small cut, Charlotte! You said you had slipped and fallen and cut yourself."

"Well," I reply, giving him a wan smile, "I did cut myself. And you can't even see it yet, under the bandage, so how do you know how big the cut is?"

"Because half your face is swollen!" Ricky retorts, his eyes worried. "And nobody uses that big a piece of gauze for a tiny, inconsequential cut."

"Sorry," I apologize. "I know you were at the shelter."

"Don't worry," he mutters. "I have a friend who's watching it now. Let's go. I brought my medical kit."

Robert is watching Ricky with a little more suspicion than I'd like, but I can feel the wounds in my cheek, and I want them looked at. We head upstairs, and once we're in my apartment, Mano runs toward me, crying loudly. After sniffing me, she can clearly sense something is off, because she decides to sit in my lap as Ricky gives me a once-over. I change into a long bathrobe so that he can examine the bruises on my legs and arms. There are more on my back, and Robert begins to growl when I turn around to show them to the vet.

I blink when Robert steps in front of me, holding me against him as Ricky lowers the bathrobe from behind.

"That's far enough," he snarls, making Ricky freeze.

"I'm just trying to help her," Ricky says tightly.

"Looking at her ass isn't helping anyone," Robert scowls.

"Robert," I begin, but he shakes his head.

"Your ass is off limits."

"Will you stop saying ass!" I hiss at him. "Call it a butt. It's a butt. Everybody has one."

He raises a brow and eventually says to Ricky, "Fine. Charlotte's perfectly formed butt is off limits, got it?"

I groan.

Ricky makes a sound. "It's fine. I've got a good idea of what's going on."

He tries to help me pull the robe back up only for Robert to snarl, "I'll do it. You don't have to touch her so excessively."

"I'm so sorry, Ricky." I wonder why I'm being tested like this right now. "Please excuse my friend—"

"We're involved." Robert decides to throw that statement out there. "Very involved."

I close my eyes, wondering if it's possible to self-combust on the spot.

"No, we're not," I finally say.

"She doesn't know it yet," Robert counters.

"Robert!"

"Okay." Ricky holds up his hands as I turn around, struggling against Robert's steel-like grip. "I don't need to know the details of y'all's relationship. Lucky for you, the bruises aren't so bad. I'm going to prescribe you pain meds and heat therapy. Since you've got contusions from head to toe, get a heated blanket and wrap it around you for an hour daily. Try not to wear thick clothing because the heat needs to seep into your body. Now, let's take a look at the cut on your cheek."

He removes the gauze, and his expression instantly changes. "Were you mauled by an animal?!"

The situation being what it is, I can't help but snort. "Something like that."

When Ricky's eyes flit toward Robert, he scowls. "It wasn't me."

My tiny smile fades. That was odd. "Why would you think Robert did this?"

Ricky chooses not to answer and instead says, "No stitches necessary, Charlotte, but these could very easily get infected. You're going to have to take antibiotics to make sure they don't. I would say keep doing rounds of antibiotics until the wounds close. Clean them three times a day with alcohol and saline, and then bandage them securely. If you need help, I can do the cleaning and bandaging in the mornings and at night. I'm asleep during the daytime, so you'll have to manage that one on your own."

"I'll do it," Robert says, his hand still around my waist.

I'm trying not to think too much about how nice his large hand feels on me. I can feel every finger resting on the side of my belly. I can also feel the way his hard chest is pressed against my back. Paying attention to this conversation isn't easy by any means.

"Okay, then I'll just drop by in the mornings—"

"I'll take care of Charlotte's wounds myself," Robert clarifies emphatically. "She doesn't need your help."

"Actually," I start, "I think—"

"I know how to clean wounds. I'll get the necessary supplies," Robert cuts me off. He's been doing a lot of that since he met Ricky.

"Are you the one who bandaged the wounds on her face?" Ricky questions him seriously.

I'm the one who answers. "Yeah, he did that."

"It was close to professional," the vet approves, smiling. "I think you're in good hands, Charlotte. If there are any issues, let me know. I'm just a phone call away. In the meantime, I'd still like to show your friend how to go about cleaning and disinfecting the wound. Just to be safe."

He takes out the supplies in his kit, and Robert doesn't argue this time, watching intently as Ricky disinfects the wounds all over again and washes them before applying a bad-smelling orange ointment and then taping gauze over them.

As he packs up, he says, "Whoever did this to her, I hope you dealt with them."

He's talking to Robert, and the latter looks dissatisfied. "Not yet, but I plan to. Soon."

My hand tightens on his arm, but he doesn't look at me.

Is he planning to go after Arabella?

As Ricky is about to leave, Robert suddenly says, "I'll walk you out."

The vet gives him an odd look, but as Ricky passes in front of me, I see the way the corners of his mouth are strained.

As soon as the door closes behind them, I pick up Mano. "Sorry about the scare, baby. I'm really okay."

However, my cat is behaving anxiously, rubbing against me and purring with an aggression I've rarely seen. I pet her, leaning back on the couch, my head aching. I must have slipped into sleep because when I come to, I'm being shaken awake.

"W—What?" I cry out, alarmed.

Robert's face is close to mine, and when he sees my indignant response, he sighs in relief. "I thought you passed out."

"I fell asleep." I try to push him away, but he takes my hand.

"I'll carry you to bed."

"I really don't need you to—"

But he's already lifting me, as if I'm his bride and he's carrying me over the threshold. I think if my face gets any redder, I might start resembling a tomato.

He tucks me under the sheets before sprawling beside me, much to my shock.

"You—You're not going home?"

I watch Mano jump onto Robert's stomach and curl up there, tucking her face under her tail.

"You've had a traumatic experience." Robert's fingers comb through my hair as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "I'm going to watch over you tonight, and tomorrow, and when you're better, we'll talk."

I should resist, but instead, I let him wrap his arm around me as I mumble, "Just for tonight."

"Sure." His chest vibrates with silent laughter, but I lean into him. He smells nice. He smells safe.

With his fingers scratching my aching scalp, I find myself drifting off, exhausted by the day's events.

******

When I wake up, it's to the sounds of sizzling bacon and my rumbling stomach. My whole body aches. I groan, trying to turn over, each side hurting more than the previous one. Giving up, I sit up gingerly. The skin on my left cheek is burning under the gauze, and I try to bear the pain. Sitting on the side of the bed, I study the floor blankly.

Arabella showing up. The attack. Robert saving me.

The memories trickle back as sleep fades away, and my soul feels heavy inside me. Hating my sister would be so easy. She has done plenty of things to me over the years for me to despise her. I hated Clyde but never her. In a way, she's still my weakness.

Why haven't you killed yourself yet?

Arabella's words eat at me.

Then, a bitter laugh leaves my lips.

Indeed. Why haven't I?

I can feel my thoughts taking a dark turn, and I look out the window at the gray sky, my fingers digging into the bed sheet. I may not be as strong or as successful as those of my kind, but I dragged myself out of a shit situation, and I survived. Sometimes, survival is enough. Just because my life is not as bright as Arabella's doesn't mean it's not worth anything. I did become something. I became a survivor.

The darkness in my heart ebbs away as I remind myself of my own small successes and the goals I've set for myself.

My head lifts when I hear voices from the kitchen. Slowly getting to my feet, I make my way over to where all the mouth-watering scents are coming from. I thought Robert would have left by now, but clearly, he's still here.

"Rob—" I begin, only to fall silent at the sight of my kitchen. It's a mess. I see Mano lapping at a broken egg on the floor while Robert seems to be trying to fry something.

"It's burning on the bottom!" he says, his voice frustrated. "This is my tenth egg, Aisha!"

A woman's voice comes from his phone, which is propped up against the backsplash. She sounds just as irritated. "I keep telling you to lower the flame and splash some oil on the egg!"

"How can I splash oil on an egg?!" Robert might be at his wits' end. "I tried, and the pan began to overflow!"

"Not cold oil, you moron! Use your spatula and gently toss the hot oil on the egg to cook the white!"

"What about the burned part of the egg?"

"Lower the stupid flame! God, Robert! How can you not know how to do something as simple as frying an egg?!"

"It's not as easy as it looks, okay?" Robert snaps back.

"Even Toby can fry an egg," the woman apparently named Aisha says, annoyed. "And he's a kid. If you can't do it, just order breakfast in for her! You do it for yourself all the time!"

"That's not the same as cooking for her! I want to make her a nice breakfast. I'm trying to take care of her."

"Then take care of her by not giving her food poisoning. That would be the kinder thing to do," the woman retorts.

Robert seems to be in no mood to listen. "What about scrambled eggs? Those are easy, right?"

"Oh, dear God, Robert! The woman just narrowly survived one traumatic encounter. Why are you trying to saddle her with another? You can't cook. Your cooking might just land her in therapy."

"If you just want to criticize me, then go away," Robert says, clearly upset now. "I'm trying to look after her, and you're not being helpful. This is my first time cooking. It's not like I know what I'm supposed to be doing!"

A sigh from the other end. "Trust me. Order in. She'll thank you for it. I have to go now. Morris has a meeting, and Toby can't find his socks. I'll call you later. Don't traumatize that poor woman any more."

I hear the call end, and Robert sighs.

My eyes flit around the kitchen.

All this mess is because he wanted to make me breakfast? My lips twitch, and my heart feels warm. He's clearly losing his mind but is determined to see this through, as if making me breakfast is the most important thing for him today.

I see him lift the pan and take it toward the trash can. I quickly call out, "I want to try that one."

Robert freezes.

When he doesn't say anything or move, I roll my eyes. "I can still see you, Robert."

His shoulders droop. My own shake with laughter.

My gait is slow as I head toward him, and he immediately tries to get rid of the egg in the pan.

"Hold it!" I grab the pan from him. "Let me see."

"It's not edible," he says, glaring at me.

"I'll be the judge of that."

He doesn't put up much of a fight, which is why I'm able to seize the pan from him. The contents have me gawking, though. What was supposed to be a fried egg is swimming in oil. It is still raw on top, and the bottom is black.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself from laughing. When I look up at Robert, he looks fifty shades of mortified.

"I told you it was inedible," he mutters, taking the pan from me. "I'll order breakfast in."

I look around the kitchen, wishing I had the guts to actually eat what he had attempted to make. However, I don't have a death wish at the moment. As I watch him toss the contents of the pan, I ask sincerely, "How are you with buttered toast?"

Robert glances at me, disappointment still in his eyes. "Even a monkey can make buttered toast."

"And coffee?"

His eyes brighten. "I make good coffee."

"Let's have that." I begin clearing the mess from the table. "My insides still feel raw from the healing. Something light would be preferable. I do appreciate the efforts, though."

Silently, I think to myself that I might have to get this kitchen deep cleaned and never let Robert near it again. The mess he managed to create is simply insane.

Ultimately, Robert still ends up making me breakfast while I sit at the table. The only edible thing he did manage to cook was the bacon, and it's a little hard, but I chew on it happily. When he sits down, he looks worn out. However, he doesn't let me butter my own toast, lathering generous amounts on it before cutting it into two pieces and putting them on my plate.

I'm being cared for, I realize, and I don't exactly hate it.

The light breakfast does make me feel better, and I don't know why the simple bread and butter tastes so much better than usual today. But as I pick up my mug of coffee, for a moment, I think I smell blood in it. Blinking, I stare down at it, puzzled. But the aroma of the coffee is overpowering, and I'm sure I was just imagining things.

Robert is watching me as I drink, an odd look in his eyes. The taste is different from any coffee I've ever had. My toes tingle as I gulp it down, not caring how my tongue burns. My head feels light and my body a little too warm. But as I set down the empty mug, about to ask for seconds, Robert hands me a glass of water.

My head feels a little woozy now.

"Did you put alcohol in the coffee?" I slur, looking at Robert.

He grins slightly. "No. Just drink the water. I'll make you another cup."

The water is cold, and it soothes my burning tongue. The next cup of coffee isn't as tasty as the previous one, and I feel disappointed.

"Here," Robert says, putting another piece of buttered toast on my plate. "Eat."

I do so obediently, and as the food hits my system, I feel more stable.

"That was odd," I mutter to myself, but when I look toward Robert, he doesn't seem to have noticed anything.

Confused, I concentrate on my breakfast. The coffee is still good, but it doesn't make my toes tingle anymore, and that makes me a little sad.

Robert clears the dishes, and once he's done, he sits across from me. "Are you feeling better?"

I nod.

"Then it's time we talk."

I let out a gust of air. "I guess we should. What do you want to know?"

"Beruth Sanguinite is your father?"

I nod once again.

"Do you have any contact with anyone in your clan?"

I take my time in answering, realizing that lying by omission isn't going to help me any.

"No," I say, truthfully. "My father threw me out in the middle of the night. He just came to my room, dragged me outside, and tossed me out of the compound. My siblings were there, watching. Our compound was in the woods—must still be there. There were all sorts of animals out there. At the time, I assumed he had just washed his hands of me. I didn't realize he had intended for me to die out there. Vampires don't kill their young; that is frowned upon in our clans, so I guess he couldn't kill me himself. But when I ran into Droga, who attacked you, and then my sister, they were surprised to see me alive."

"So, all this time, your father had no idea where you were?"

"No. I stayed away from the parts of the city I knew he conducted business in. And I've always kept a low profile."

Robert taps his fingers on the table as if considering my words.

"Do you think I'm lying?" I ask bluntly.

"No." His response is just as abrupt. "I just want to know everything you've been keeping from me. Now that Arabella knows where you are, what are you anticipating?"

I lower my gaze to his hands, the thoughts I've been burying since last night rearing their ugly heads.

"She'll tell Father," I murmur. "And since I am no longer a child, he can kill me now without risking the clan's disapproval."

"You think he'll do that?" Robert's voice is calm, but I can feel the strain in his tone.

"I would like to think that I am worthless in his eyes, not even worth expending the effort to get rid of me, but Arabella came to the cafe for a reason. I don't know if she actually intended to kill me or just destroy my face, but there was a reason behind her showing up, and it wasn't to make sure my life was as miserable as she wanted it to be."

"Are you saying you expect Arabella to return?"

I nod. "And you're right. This apartment is no longer safe for me. All she has to do is figure out the names of the employees who work at the cafe, and once she has that list, she'll be able to pin down my home address. I can't think of a reason why either she or my father would want me dead, but then again, I don't understand why she did what she did last night. Every building has security cameras. She would have known that if Jazz had opened the cafe the next morning and seen my body, the first thing the police would have done is check the security footage. And even if Arabella had gotten rid of ours, the building next door has cameras that cover our entrance. She wouldn't have gotten away with it."

The words come out of me in a breathless rush as I connect the dots about how reckless my sister's actions were last night and how they most likely were fueled by something.

"It's alright." Robert covers my hand. "Breathe."

I let out a shuddering breath. "I'm okay. I'm going to have to find a place to stay, though. Maybe a hostel till I can find an apartment to rent—"

"You'll be staying with me," Robert says decisively. "I'll feel better if I know where you are. And not even your family would be stupid enough to invade an Alpha's home."

"No!" I shake my head, my heart thundering. "Are you crazy? Have you considered how your pack will react when they realize you're harboring a vampire in your house?"

Robert shrugs. "It's none of their business. It's my home."

"Robert," I say pleadingly, "I'm really not worth starting a problem over. I'll find a place. If worse comes to worst, I'll ask Ricky if I can stay at his place for a couple of d—"

The growl that leaves his mouth has me falling silent.

"No. You're not staying with that damned vet. And don't decide for yourself what I think you're worth. You're staying with me. If anyone in my pack has a problem, I'll deal with them."

I get to my feet. "Why are you being so stubborn about this? And since we're laying out all our cards here, why don't you tell me what your intentions are? Because you and I don't have any sort of future. Shifters and vampires don't mix. We both know that. The only other reason I can think of is that you want to use me at some point. But if that's what you're planning, it's never going to work. I have no connection with the vampire world, as you are well aware. I'm not one of those people who wants to live in the moment, Robert. I need to plan and prepare for the future. I can't have a fling with you. My heart doesn't work that way. And if you—"

Robert chooses that moment to cut me off, getting to his own feet. "I don't want a fling, and I don't want to use you."

As he rounds the table to me, I hold my ground, meeting his gaze squarely. "Then what do you want?"

"You," he answers simply, cupping my face. "Just you."

"It's not that simple, Robert," I say heavily, my chest tightening in response to his words. "There is never going to be a ‘you and me.' Not when you're the Alpha of a pack. And you know that."

His jaw tenses. "I'm allowed to choose my happiness."

"Not when you're the Alpha," I repeat emphatically. "And I'm too vulnerable to be caught in the middle of your pack politics."

I cover his hands on my cheeks with my own, grasping and slowly lowering them. The panic in his eyes is hard to witness.

"Look at me," he says firmly. "Look at my face, Charlotte. I'm a monster. I don't want to spend my life being tied to someone who despises my face, somebody my own wolf refuses to accept, because that's what will happen. Are you really going to condemn me to life with a woman who just wants my money and status?"

His words make me feel horrible. The worst part is that I know it's the truth. If Robert ends up marrying a woman from his pack who finds his scars repulsive, he will be miserable for the rest of his life. I don't want Robert to be miserable. His happiness matters to me.

"My wolf is crazy about you, and so am I," he whispers. "Give me a good reason why you don't want me. If it's my face, you can tell me. I won't get upset."

My hand lifts to caress his left cheek, and my lips twist of their own accord. "I don't care about your scars. I think I might even have a matching set now. I just don't want you to be in a position where you will suffer because of me. I'm not w—"

"Don't you dare say you're not worth it, Charlotte." Robert takes my hands and kisses the tips of my fingers. "To me, you're worth it. I want you. You drive me insane, every part of you. So, what else is there? What other reason do you have?"

I try to think of something, but my mind is going blank as Robert's teeth nibble at the edge of my fingers. I know this is a losing battle. He has already won.

From the look in his eyes, he knows it, too.

"Fine." As the word leaves my mouth, my heart feels light, the tension I had been holding on to abating. "Alright, you win."

I see the way his eyes light up, and my heart does a summersault in my chest at the sight.

This happiness—it can't be a bad thing, right?