Chapter 19

Charlotte Sanguinite

The thunderstorms continue for a few days.

Rainy weather usually means less business at the cafe since people don't really like to venture out of their homes or offices with such downpours in the cards. We mostly have takeout orders and a few remote workers who're huddled in the corner booths, fueling themselves with coffee and snacks every couple of hours.

I check the time and sigh.

Shelby is out sick, and Gina has a doctor's appointment. Jazz just slipped out to hand in her thesis and told me to close up without her. It's around 6:45, and I've already cleaned the whole place. Robert told me he'll be in a meeting tonight, so I have to head to the animal shelter by myself.

I haven't gone there since Arabella attacked me one week ago, but I'm feeling more stable now. The vampires who had been showing up suddenly stopped, and life seems to have gone back to a somewhat normal routine. Even Terrence never appeared again.

I feel a sense of relief at this past week of normalcy. I've reached a point where I'm beginning to feel hopeful.

Glancing at the wall clock, I announce, "We close in ten minutes."

The few lingering customers look outside and groan. However, they pack up quickly and scurry out with their umbrellas. I don't waste any time wiping down their tables and locking up.

I consider calling a taxi, but the bus stop is only a ten-minute walk away. I try to speed walk, repeatedly checking the time. If I don't hurry, I'll miss the bus, and the next one is going to be a twenty-minute wait. Unfortunately, luck is not on my side, as I see the bus pass by me.

I raise a hand, shouting for it to stop. In my haste, the umbrella slips from my other hand, flying off with the wind. I can either go after it or try to make the bus. I choose the latter, feet splashing in the puddles as I run like a madwoman after the bus. It rounds the corner, and I know it's a losing battle, but the stubborn streak in me prevails.

One minute later, I'm standing at the bus stop, drenched from head to toe, the bus merrily driving on ahead.

"Damn it," I mutter. "Should've gone for the umbrella."

However, it's too late now.

Darting under the bus stop shelter when the onslaught of rain continues, I look up to see a large gap. Someone had the bright idea to remove the roof.

It's raining too hard for me to even consider taking out my phone to call a taxi. My screen won't work if it's wet.

Shivering, I turn around and start the trek back to the cafe.

As I walk, the rain becomes almost torrential, and I can barely see two feet in front of me. All the shops seem to be closed aside from a bar. I know how I look right now, and heading into a bar full of drunk people might not be the best course of action, but I'm desperate.

I duck inside, shivering as the blast of heat hits me.

Wiping the water from my face and clutching my bag, I look around. There are a few people around, mostly men, and their eyes are on me.

I approach the bar, trembling like a leaf. I am so cold right now. "C—Can I use your bathroom?"

The bartender gives me a strange look. "Sorry, paying customers only."

"Oh." I look at the men sitting on the stools around the bar, leering at me, and I realize my clothes are clinging to me like a second skin. "Okay. Um, I'll have something warm."

"This is a bar, not a coffee shop." The bartender crosses his arms.

I don't like him. He seems to be relishing his little flex of power.

"Fine." I bare my teeth at him. "I'll get a fucking beer."

It's not like me to curse, but I want to break this man's face. I'm standing here, wet and shivering, and he's just enjoying the show.

"Money?" He points to the board above his head, his voice smug. "A fucking beer costs fifteen bucks."

"Are you insane?" I hiss. "It says seven dollars up there!"

"The rest is for the attitude." He raises his brows at me. A few of the men chuckle.

"Hell, yeah!"

"Put the broad in her place!"

"Spin around for me, sweet cheeks, and I'll buy you that beer!"

"Take off that shirt!"

More chortling, and someone says, "She doesn't need to take anything off. She's showing her titties as it is. And a nice pair they are!"

Anger churns within me.

I don't need this.

Turning around, I'm about to leave when I slam into a broad chest. A pair of arms catches me.

"Now, that was just rude," I hear a familiar voice say smoothly.

I go still, my head slowly tilting up to meet Terrence's gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concern in his voice.

For a moment, I forget how to speak, raw, visceral fear pounding within me.

"F—Fine," I breathe. "I was just leaving."

However, he doesn't release his grip. "You're cold, Charlotte."

"You know her?" The bartender sounds wary.

"She's my fiancée," is Terrence's cool reply as he takes off his trench coat and wraps it around me. "I see all of you were having a good time at her expense."

His what?!

Terrence is holding me to his chest as he speaks, and he probably feels me jerk at his statement.

"Nah, man. We were just joking around."

"I see," Terrence replies coldly. "Come on, Charlotte."

He guides me outside, and no matter how hard I want to resist, I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place at the moment.

As soon as I exit the bar, an umbrella is covering me.

"There's a coffee shop nearby. Let's go there."

He points a device at a black car parked at the curb, and the lights flash.

"That's your car." I'm petrified right now. The gun Robert gave me is in the bag I'm holding. I was worried about it getting wet, so I made the stupid decision to tuck it into my bag, something I regret immensely in this moment.

"Don't worry." Terrence gives me a small smile. "I'm not going to make you get in it. I understand you don't trust me right now. The coffee shop is just around the corner; we can walk."

His left shoulder is getting wet as he holds the umbrella over me, and despite my wariness, I feel a flash of guilt. He's keeping space between us, and that's why the rain is falling on him.

"You should cover your shoulder," I find myself saying.

Terrence laughs lightly. "That's just like you, worrying about someone else rather than yourself. A little rain isn't going to kill me. I would rather you stay dry than me. And besides, you're not comfortable around me just yet. I don't want to make you even less so."

He's being considerate, just like the mild-mannered Terrence I remember. He'd always have his nose buried in a book, and I was the only one he would put away his reading for. A friendship between a child and a teenager. He was my safe haven till he left, my closest friend and confidant. Whenever Clyde would bully me, Terrence would be there to patch me up and give me a shoulder to cry on.

The child in me is upset that I'm looking at him with such suspicion, but I no longer have room to trust anyone. Terrence cut me off the moment he left, yet he wrote to my father, and later to Arabella. It was just me that he washed his hands of. That scarred the lonely girl who had just watched her only support system walk away from her.

Seeing Terrence treating me so gently, as if the last decade or so never happened, is like twisting the knife inside my heart.

I'm not stupid enough to assume his intentions are well-meaning. But I'm also not going to cause a scene when I know I can't fight back. Under the trench coat, I reach into my bag. I already loaded three bullets in the gun, just to be safe. I open the small case, hoping the sound of the rain will swallow the clicking sound of me undoing the flip lock. Terrence is guiding me around the corner now, and my heart is racing. I wrap my hand around the gun, slowly drawing it out of the bag.

If there is a car waiting for me, I'm going to start shooting and make a run for it.

Then I see the bright lights of a coffee shop, and feeling relieved, I release my weapon back into its case.

It's a small place, with only one customer sitting in a corner, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

The man behind the counter nods at us. "Welcome. What can I get you?"

Terrence looks at me. "What would you like to have?"

"Hot chocolate," I reply, not needing the caffeine right now.

"I'll have the same," Terrence tells the barista.

I look at Terrence from the corner of my eye. He hates chocolate. At least, the teenager I remember used to.

We take a seat in an open booth at the back, and there is a curious look in Terrence's eyes. "I can't sense your energy."

It's instinct to cover the bracelet with the sleeve of the trench coat to hide it. "That's been happening a lot lately. Not surprising, though. I'm a vampire in name only now, so maybe it's for the best."

He studies my expression, and I don't flinch. When I was a child, I used to blink very rapidly whenever I told a lie. Terrence is the one who pointed out that tic to me. It's something I've worked on for years to stop doing.

He buys my explanation but looks troubled. "How have you been doing all this time? Your father told me you left the clan."

I give him a bland look. "Did he now?"

Terrence leans forward, his expression tense. "What happened, Charlotte? Why did you leave? If you didn't want to stay there, why not tell me? I know I was far away, but I would have arranged something for you. Leaving the clan was an incredibly dangerous decision, especially at fourteen."

My hand is now reaching for my phone. I'm waiting for Terrence's attention to waver for just a moment so that I can call Robert. He says he trusts me, but sitting in a coffee shop with one of my father's favorite people doesn't scream "reliable," even to my ears. It doesn't matter whether I'm here willingly or not.

My hand curls around the phone, and I feel a hint of desperation. I need to see the screen to be able to place the call.

"What do you care?" I ask tightly, drawing my phone out of my bag inch by inch.

Before Terrence can reply, the barista calls out, "Your hot chocolates are ready."

I heave a sigh of relief when the handsome vampire gets up to retrieve our order and pay for the drinks. Quickly, I lower my eyes and dial Robert's number. When he doesn't answer, a sense of frustration fills me. I shoot him a message, telling him to call me back, and quickly put the phone on vibrate. Making sure the phone is out of sight, I look up just as Terrence turns around, holding two mugs.

I swallow, trying to keep my wits about me.

I don't know why Terrence is claiming that I ran away. Everyone in the clan witnessed me being dragged into the woods that night. There is no way he doesn't know I was thrown out.

"Pretending not to know what really happened doesn't suit you," I say as I accept my cup from him. "Why are you here, Terrence? If you're planning to kill me, you should know I'm not going to die so easily."

Not when I've just begun to taste happiness.

Terrence rubs his hand over his face. "What are you talking about? Beruth told me that you up and left. You turned your back on your family."

"How would you know what happened?" I ask, my tone scathing. "When you didn't bother writing to me or asking me what I was going through? I was tossed out of the compound in the middle of the night, just a few days after I turned fourteen. My father, my siblings, they threw me out at a time when predators would be roaming the woods. They wanted me to die. But I survived. I always survive. And now you're here pretending to be clueless!"

I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, under the table. Without bringing it into view, I accept the call, already knowing who it is.

"Tell me why you're here, Terrence. You don't need to bother hiding your motives. Did my father send you to get rid of me, or did Arabella?"

I'm silently praying that Robert understands I'm not alone and doesn't speak. Like shifters, vampires have good hearing. I don't want Terrence to figure out that Robert is on the phone, listening to us.

"I did write to you, Charlotte." Terrence suddenly looks pale. "I swear to you, I did! But you never wrote back. I even sent you gifts. With the money from my first part-time job, I bought you a bracelet, the one with the butterfly on it. Your father told me you got it. Don't say I didn't write to you when you were the one who didn't respond to my letters."

I stare at him blankly. "You sent that bracelet to Arabella. I remember because she taunted me with it."

There's no need to mince words.

"There was clearly some misunderstanding—"

"There was no misunderstanding," I say, my voice quiet. "If you did write me letters, they were never given to me. If you ever sent me anything, I never received it. And you never received anything I tried to send to you. That's all there is to it."

Terrence's lips press together into a thin line. "I was told you were doing well. I always asked Beruth about you when we spoke. My own father assured me you were fine. It was only two months ago, when I decided to come back, that they told me you had left the clan. They were so convincing. Even your sister told me the same story…" His eyes are devastated. "If I had known—If I had heard a whisper of the truth, I would have come back, Charlotte, and I would have brought you to Europe with me."

I want to believe him. He sounds sincere.

"It doesn't matter," I murmur, unable to meet his gaze, my heart aching. "It was eight years ago, and I'm doing well for myself. I just want to be left alone. You and I are different people now."

"It does matter, Charlotte!" Terrence looks furious. "I was lied to. I don't care what you've been up to all these years; I'm just glad you survived. But now it's time to come back. That's why I'm here. You're not human, Charlotte. You're a vampire. You belong with your own kind."

"My own kind?" My lips twist in a sneer. "My kind thinks I'm worthless and that I should kill myself. They want me dead. Arabella tried to kill me last week! I'm not going back to that hellhole. And to be clear, Terrence, the clan is no longer my home. I was deregistered. Charlotte Sanguinite no longer exists. She was never born."

His eyes widen, and I feel guilty for causing the shock in them.

"Things have changed," I say, trying to calm myself down. "I have a life among the humans. I have dreams. I have struggled a lot to reach some level of peace and tranquility. Don't mess that up for me. If you're truly not here to kill me, then just stay away from me."

Seeing Terrence's face fall makes me feel like a cruel monster.

"Why would you ever think I would try to kill you?" His voice is a dismayed whisper. "You keep saying that."

"Because my father respects you. He trusts you, doesn't he? Now that you're back, you're probably going to be assigned to a good position in the clan, a powerful one—"

"Which is why I'm saying come back with me!" Terrence insists, his eyes pleading. "I can protect you. Nobody will be able to touch you, Charlotte!"

"Your ties to the clan make you an enemy," I say bluntly. "I will never return to that place or to people who have wanted to kill me. Not for anyone. And your association with them, necessary as it may be for you, makes you somebody I can never trust. I'm sorry, Terrence."

My whole body feels cold. To warm myself up, I pick up the hot chocolate with my free hand and take a sip.

Terrence is watching me, his gaze heavy on my soul.

"There is no place for you in this society," he says sadly. "Humans will never accept you, nor will anyone else. The clan is your home. I can fix things now that I'm back."

"I don't need you to fix anything, Terrence." I keep my voice steady even though my insides are shaking. I take another sip of the hot chocolate. "I'm not that eight-year-old girl who needs protecting anymore. I can take care of myself. And I know I will never be accepted by anyone, not the humans, not the wolves, and especially not my own kind. But I can live without acceptance. I keep my life busy so that I don't worry about things that will never be mine."

"But they can be yours." Terrence reaches out and touches my arm. "I can give you everything you never thought you could have. I'll give you my name. That will offer you a lot of protection. I have always cared for you, Charlotte. I never once stopped thinking about you. I—"

His words pierce my brain, and I narrow my eyes. "Are you—Are you proposing to me?"

"If you'll have me, yes!" he bursts out. "You've never had a real family, Charlotte. I saw how they treated you. I can give you the family you've always wanted. You know you will never want for anything with me. You'll never be an outcast like you will be if you stay here."

His words are like a punch in the gut. Even more so because of how things are with Robert right now. Despite Robert's words and promises, I know I will never be the woman to stand by his side. At some point, we will have to part ways because his pack will come first and I simply don't belong.

I can't stop my eyes from burning as I look down into my cup.

Robert and I will never have a future together.

Even if he cares for me now, eventually duty will have to come first, and say what he may, he will never truly be able to choose his happiness. Or maybe he'll end up finding his fated mate.

And I'll be left alone once again.

This is the heartbreak I wanted to avoid all this time. I never believed the saying that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I don't know how I'll pick myself up once Robert has to walk away from me, whenever that may be. But I also don't have the strength to leave now.

"Charlotte—" Terrence has hope in his eyes when I look at him, but before I can say anything to dissuade him, my stomach churns; I cover my mouth, nausea rearing its head.

The cup of hot chocolate is jostled as I try to get out of the booth, and it shatters on the floor. As I stumble to my feet, clutching the side of the table, the phone slips off my lap. My bag and gun fall to the floor right next to it. I've never felt like this before—this nausea, this burning sensation as if every nerve inside my body has been set on fire.

Terrence jumps up, looking worried, "Charlotte!"

I shove him backward. "I have to—"

The sign on the wall for the bathroom is visible at the far end of the room.

"You're not okay!" Terrence tries to grab me, but I'm already running. The door opens easily; I shut it behind me and lock it. And promptly begin to throw up.

I've never vomited blood before, but the sink is now stained with it. My belly is burning, as if a thousand knives are stabbing me on the inside. Clutching the edge of the sink, I try to stay upright as I empty the entire contents of my stomach. The blood is a dark color. In between throwing up and ignoring the pounding on the door, I stare dimly at the clots of blood.

That's not a dark red.

It's black.

I'm vomiting black blood.

I don't get much time to ponder this new development as the urge to throw up overtakes me again. I retch, and more blood comes out. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I look up into the mirror and see a clammy face staring back at me.

But my eyes…My eyes are amber, just like Robert's are when his wolf is staring at me through them. My heart nearly stops, and when I blink, they're back to normal.

Am I hallucinating?

I have to be.

My trembling fingers touch my face under my eyes.

The burning sensation is fading now, but the pain is still there, tender, throbbing.

My hands tighten on the marble of the sink, and I hear a cracking sound. Confused, shaken, I look down and see large cracks in the marble stemming from where I'm holding on to it. My hands jump away, almost as if the marble just burned them.

My breathing is already uneven, and now I feel a thundering sensation inside my head as I stare at the sink's cracked white marble.

What is happening to me?

Suddenly, I realize there is no one pounding on the outside of the bathroom door anymore. Before I can consider what that means, the door is yanked open, the lock breaking, and standing in front of me is a wide-eyed, drenched, and furious wolf Alpha.