Free A Dance with Darkness: An Angelfire Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) by Courtney Allison Moulton
Authors: Courtney Allison Moulton
dragging my muddy skirts across the floor. “Natha—” But I stopped. Nathaniel was not here.
It was Bastian.
11
NEITHER OF US SPOKE FOR WHAT FELT LIKE AN eternity. He stared at me, still and silent and cold as a dark winter’s night with his blue eyes. His power leaked from him like inky fog and crept across the floor toward me. I expected him to be angry, but that wasn’t the impression I got. He was hurt, and the rawness was clear in his gaze.
I was the first to break the painful silence. “How long have you known where I live?”
“I’ve known for over a month,” he said. “I’m saddened that you never trusted me enough to tell me where you lived even after I invited you into my home. It was your home too.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think of the way things once were between us. “It seems as if I was right not to trust you. You followed me, spied on me, to learn where I live. Now you hunt me down.”
His gaze fell on my mud-covered cloak and skirts, and he ignored my remarks. “You’re filthy. Where have you been?”
“Nowhere,” I replied.
“Nowhere was awfully muddy.”
“This entire island is awfully muddy.”
He made a low, impatient sound and sighed. “My love,” he said gently. “Come with me.”
“No,” I said. “You have to leave.”
“I know you took the book,” he said.
I lifted my chin. “Have you come to kill me for it?”
He exhaled and his brow furrowed as his lip trembled. “I love you. I have not come to kill you.”
My heart skipped a beat and tightened. “Then have you come to ask to have me back, or the book?”
“For you,” he murmured. “I want you back.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “You may want me back tonight, but tomorrow you’ll want that book. You’ve come too far to let it go.”
He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve come too far with you to let you go.”
I slipped my hand from his grip and held it close to my chest. “You hit me, Bastian. You struck me out of anger after you murdered my kin for something you will use to destroy the rest of my kin. Do not insult me by begging for my forgiveness. It is over between us, and that book is long gone. If you want it, then you can dig out its ashes in the hearth.”
His blue eyes bugged and he stopped breathing for several moments. At last he drew a long, quivering breath and composed himself. “The grimoire was irreplaceable.”
“ Life is irreplaceable,” I shot back through gritted teeth. “Life cannot be returned. A book can be rewritten.”
“You’re right,” he said, breaking eye contact. “But knowledge is also invaluable. And I know you, Madeleine. You didn’t burn the book.”
I would neither confirm nor deny that, though my refusal to do so was enough answer for him. “Has Evantia discovered that you had the grimoire? And lost it?”
Despite my callous comment, nothing in his face changed. I expected him to get angry, but he didn’t. “Evantia is dead. I killed her after I saw you last night. I am now the most powerful demonic reaper in England.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “You finally have what you want.”
“I don’t have you.”
“That is your own fault.”
“Have you honestly lost all your love for me?”
“Not all,” I confessed, “but enough to realize now that this will never work. I did love you, Bastian, so very much, and I will always have part of you with me.” My words were choked off by grief and despair, because he would never know the full truth in them. I could never tell him. If he knew I carried his child, then I could never escape. Even if he didn’t kill me, he would never let me go. I could not fight him, because I could not risk the life growing inside me. Bastian would take this child and raise him or her the way he raised Cadan: through brutality and cruelty. Unlike poor Cadan, my child would grow up knowing kindness and a gentle touch. My child would know what real love was like.
“You
It was Bastian.
11
NEITHER OF US SPOKE FOR WHAT FELT LIKE AN eternity. He stared at me, still and silent and cold as a dark winter’s night with his blue eyes. His power leaked from him like inky fog and crept across the floor toward me. I expected him to be angry, but that wasn’t the impression I got. He was hurt, and the rawness was clear in his gaze.
I was the first to break the painful silence. “How long have you known where I live?”
“I’ve known for over a month,” he said. “I’m saddened that you never trusted me enough to tell me where you lived even after I invited you into my home. It was your home too.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think of the way things once were between us. “It seems as if I was right not to trust you. You followed me, spied on me, to learn where I live. Now you hunt me down.”
His gaze fell on my mud-covered cloak and skirts, and he ignored my remarks. “You’re filthy. Where have you been?”
“Nowhere,” I replied.
“Nowhere was awfully muddy.”
“This entire island is awfully muddy.”
He made a low, impatient sound and sighed. “My love,” he said gently. “Come with me.”
“No,” I said. “You have to leave.”
“I know you took the book,” he said.
I lifted my chin. “Have you come to kill me for it?”
He exhaled and his brow furrowed as his lip trembled. “I love you. I have not come to kill you.”
My heart skipped a beat and tightened. “Then have you come to ask to have me back, or the book?”
“For you,” he murmured. “I want you back.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “You may want me back tonight, but tomorrow you’ll want that book. You’ve come too far to let it go.”
He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve come too far with you to let you go.”
I slipped my hand from his grip and held it close to my chest. “You hit me, Bastian. You struck me out of anger after you murdered my kin for something you will use to destroy the rest of my kin. Do not insult me by begging for my forgiveness. It is over between us, and that book is long gone. If you want it, then you can dig out its ashes in the hearth.”
His blue eyes bugged and he stopped breathing for several moments. At last he drew a long, quivering breath and composed himself. “The grimoire was irreplaceable.”
“ Life is irreplaceable,” I shot back through gritted teeth. “Life cannot be returned. A book can be rewritten.”
“You’re right,” he said, breaking eye contact. “But knowledge is also invaluable. And I know you, Madeleine. You didn’t burn the book.”
I would neither confirm nor deny that, though my refusal to do so was enough answer for him. “Has Evantia discovered that you had the grimoire? And lost it?”
Despite my callous comment, nothing in his face changed. I expected him to get angry, but he didn’t. “Evantia is dead. I killed her after I saw you last night. I am now the most powerful demonic reaper in England.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “You finally have what you want.”
“I don’t have you.”
“That is your own fault.”
“Have you honestly lost all your love for me?”
“Not all,” I confessed, “but enough to realize now that this will never work. I did love you, Bastian, so very much, and I will always have part of you with me.” My words were choked off by grief and despair, because he would never know the full truth in them. I could never tell him. If he knew I carried his child, then I could never escape. Even if he didn’t kill me, he would never let me go. I could not fight him, because I could not risk the life growing inside me. Bastian would take this child and raise him or her the way he raised Cadan: through brutality and cruelty. Unlike poor Cadan, my child would grow up knowing kindness and a gentle touch. My child would know what real love was like.
“You