Page 47 of Discovery of the Vampire
His eyes flared wide, and he jerked back as if I'd slapped him. "Esme." My name was little more than a horrified whisper. "Did I hurt you?"
I was about to deny it, but when his eyes caught mine, the intensity of the guilt reflected there told me this was the only way to keep him safe. So instead, I said nothing at all, letting him draw his own conclusions.
Brogan's face crumpled as self-loathing and regret filled him until his shoulders slumped forward and he caved in on himself. It broke my heart to see him like this, to know that I was the one causing him this pain. But I had to do it. I had to push him away, to keep him safe from the danger that followed me like a shadow.
"Esme, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I never meant to do anything…I thought you wanted..." His brows drew down.
My own guilt twisted inside of me. Brogan was a good male. And I was breaking him. It took everything I had within me to keep up the facade.
"I…" He trailed off, dropping his eyes to the floor between us.
And then, before he could say another word, I pushed past him and walked out of the bathroom, leaving him behind.
As I stepped out into the crowded club, the music pounding in my ears, I felt like I was moving in a dream. Everything was distant and muffled by the roaring in my head, like I was swimming underwater. I pushed my way through the throng of bodies, forgetting to grab my jacket from the coat check, barely aware of where I was going. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there, to put as much distance between myself and Brogan as possible.
When I finally stumbled out into the cool night air, I only made it a block away before I veered into an alley. There, I leaned against the rough brick wall beside an overflowing trash bin, gasping for breath and fighting the nausea roiling in my stomach. Hot tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision, but I didn't bother to wipe them away. What was the point? There was no one here to see me fall apart, and even if there was, no one would care.
I slid down the wall until my butt hit the dirty pavement, scraping the skin on my back even more, and pulled my knees to my chest. Guilt pressed down on me like a physical force, and I buried my face in my hands and let the sobs come.
20
BROGAN
The vision of Esme walking away from me, head down and shoulders tense, the bare skin on her back scraped from the wall, will forever be etched into my brain. And for the thousandth time that night, a heavy cloak of remorse enveloped me, dragging me down and nearly bringing me to my knees.
Searching blindly with one hand for the pew behind me, I sat down hard on the wooden bench.
What had I fucking done?
Flashes of how it’d felt to be with her assaulted my mind. The exquisite taste of her blood lingered on my tongue, rich and intoxicating. The sensation of her soft, warm body pressed against mine, curves molding perfectly to my body, was seared into my memory. I'd been overwhelmed, drowning in a sea of desire and need unlike anything I'd ever known. But the look on her face afterwards... That haunted expression of vulnerability mixed with accusation cut me to the core, chasing away the blissful haze of our encounter.
My guts clenched.
I couldn't shake the image of Esme's face. The way she'd looked at me, like I was something to be feared. Like I'd betrayed her trust in the worst way possible. It cut me deeper than any blade ever could.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, as if that could block out what I'd done.
Shame and guilt were familiar feelings for me in this new life Killian had given me. And for the most part, I'd learned to live with those feelings, even rebelled against them. Hell, I danced practically naked on a public stage for fun and lured innocent women into the private room to feed without their consent on a regular basis. Yes, I needed to do it to survive, but I took pleasure in it, too. And until now, for the most part, I'd learned to live with my sins.
But I couldn't live with myself now. Not this time.
Those voices from the past joined in on my own self-disgust, echoing loudly in my head until I slammed my hands over my ears to shut them out. Not that it did any good. I'd spent nearly a century trying to break free of their hold, and before Esme came around, I'd tentatively hoped that maybe, finally, I'd actually succeeded. But now I knew how wrong I'd been. They weren't gone. They were just…sleeping. Waiting for me to find some semblance of true happiness before rising from their graves to remind me that I'dneverescape them.
What kind of monster was I, to let myself get so carried away? As soon as I'd learned to control myself, I'd sworn I'd never be that kind of vampire, never let my impulses control me. But with Esme...it was like all my carefully constructed walls came crumbling down the moment I laid eyes on her.
Leaning my head back, I stared up at the painted ceiling soaring high above me.
I hadn't come to this church in a long time. Not since shortly after I'd first come to live with Killian. The old stone walls and stained-glass windows were just as I remembered—beautiful as they condemned me from above.
The heavy wooden door creaked open behind me, echoing through the empty church. I didn't need to look to know it was Killian. Our bond alerted me to his presence before he even stepped inside.
I kept my gaze fixed on the ornate ceiling, trying to ignore the growing sense of shame as Killian's footsteps drew closer. The pew creaked as he sat beside me, the familiar scent of whiskey and rain filling my nostrils, and I noticed for the first time the drops of water hitting the large windows.
"I knew I'd find ye here," Killian said, his Irish lilt soft in the stillness of the church.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "How'd you know?"
"I could feel yer guilt eating you alive from blocks away, lad."
