Read Online Her Loving Husband's Curse by Meredith Allard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Meredith Allard
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the torturous punishments of Hell on the other. We’re our own Satans. We create our own hell.”
“That’s what my father used to say.”
“Your father was the wisest man I’ve ever known. Except for you.”
He didn’t argue with her. He would give her whatever she needed, do whatever she wanted done, say whatever she wanted to hear. As long as she smiled, that sweet, beautiful smile, he would be content. He would protect her whenever she needed protecting. He had superhuman strength, extraordinary sight, supersonic hearing. Immortal life. As long as his secret stayed safe, there was nothing to fear. A scratching thought, like sandpaper on his spine, gnawed at him, and he heard the name Hempel somewhere in his middle ear, but he shook his head and sent it away.
Sarah kissed his cheek, and he leaned into her, savoring her warmth.
“There’s no such thing as the vampire’s curse,” she said.
James held her head to his chest, loving her. He looked out the diamond-paned window and saw the blackout night stretching from one horizon to the next. He heard Sarah’s breath slow, felt her body grow limp, saw her eyes close. He slipped his arms around her to carry her to the bedroom, but she started suddenly and stopped him.
“I’m not going to bed yet,” she said.
“It’s nearly three in the morning. You need to sleep.”
“Not yet. I’m changing my schedule. I’m asleep most of the time when you’re awake, so if I went to bed later and woke up later, we’d have more time together.”
“You’ve never been a night owl. Even three hundred years ago you were ready for bed as soon as the sun went down.”
“No, James, I mean it. I’m going to change my schedule.”
“All right, honey. Whatever you want.”
He rubbed her back, down her spine, up to her shoulders, down again. He wasn’t surprised to hear her breathing slow to sleeping. He carried her to bed, laid her down, covered her with the blanket, and kissed her forehead. She opened one eye as he walked to the door.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you more.”
She was already sleeping. He turned back, kneeled by the bed, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. He thought about the night in front of Jocelyn’s house. Sarah’s need for a child was so tangible then he felt it reaching out to him. That child she was so certain was there—he felt the child touching him, clutching its tiny fingers around his, and it scared him. How could he be a father? How could he explain?
“Daddy is cursed,” he could say, or “Daddy is a leech. But don’t worry. Daddy won’t ever suck your blood. Sure, Daddy used to bite people and suck them dry until they died, but things were different then. We didn’t have technology like we do now.”
He would have to explain why he could never visit their schools, meet their friends, attend Fourth of July barbeques. He could be there for the fireworks, he supposed. He would have to explain why he was so pale, why he didn’t eat dinner with them, why he always looked the same. It couldn’t possibly work.
Besides, Sarah hadn’t mentioned the child since that night. Not with her words anyway. Sometimes, when things were quiet, when they were at home together, he saw her stare off at something far away, and he guessed she was imagining the child. Sometimes, whenever they were out, walking the Salem streets, when he was taking her to a restaurant for her dinner, or to Jennifer’s, or to Olivia’s or Martha’s, they would pass a family and he saw her eyes cloud as she watched the mothers with their children. Then, when they visited the Endecotts, she would light up joy whenever little Billy appeared, running to him, laughing, clasping him to her heart. And, when she thought he wasn’t looking, her hands went to her stomach, reaching for the baby that was no longer there. She thought he didn’t see her, but he did. The sight of it sliced at his chest where his heart used to be, and he knew what it felt
“That’s what my father used to say.”
“Your father was the wisest man I’ve ever known. Except for you.”
He didn’t argue with her. He would give her whatever she needed, do whatever she wanted done, say whatever she wanted to hear. As long as she smiled, that sweet, beautiful smile, he would be content. He would protect her whenever she needed protecting. He had superhuman strength, extraordinary sight, supersonic hearing. Immortal life. As long as his secret stayed safe, there was nothing to fear. A scratching thought, like sandpaper on his spine, gnawed at him, and he heard the name Hempel somewhere in his middle ear, but he shook his head and sent it away.
Sarah kissed his cheek, and he leaned into her, savoring her warmth.
“There’s no such thing as the vampire’s curse,” she said.
James held her head to his chest, loving her. He looked out the diamond-paned window and saw the blackout night stretching from one horizon to the next. He heard Sarah’s breath slow, felt her body grow limp, saw her eyes close. He slipped his arms around her to carry her to the bedroom, but she started suddenly and stopped him.
“I’m not going to bed yet,” she said.
“It’s nearly three in the morning. You need to sleep.”
“Not yet. I’m changing my schedule. I’m asleep most of the time when you’re awake, so if I went to bed later and woke up later, we’d have more time together.”
“You’ve never been a night owl. Even three hundred years ago you were ready for bed as soon as the sun went down.”
“No, James, I mean it. I’m going to change my schedule.”
“All right, honey. Whatever you want.”
He rubbed her back, down her spine, up to her shoulders, down again. He wasn’t surprised to hear her breathing slow to sleeping. He carried her to bed, laid her down, covered her with the blanket, and kissed her forehead. She opened one eye as he walked to the door.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you more.”
She was already sleeping. He turned back, kneeled by the bed, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. He thought about the night in front of Jocelyn’s house. Sarah’s need for a child was so tangible then he felt it reaching out to him. That child she was so certain was there—he felt the child touching him, clutching its tiny fingers around his, and it scared him. How could he be a father? How could he explain?
“Daddy is cursed,” he could say, or “Daddy is a leech. But don’t worry. Daddy won’t ever suck your blood. Sure, Daddy used to bite people and suck them dry until they died, but things were different then. We didn’t have technology like we do now.”
He would have to explain why he could never visit their schools, meet their friends, attend Fourth of July barbeques. He could be there for the fireworks, he supposed. He would have to explain why he was so pale, why he didn’t eat dinner with them, why he always looked the same. It couldn’t possibly work.
Besides, Sarah hadn’t mentioned the child since that night. Not with her words anyway. Sometimes, when things were quiet, when they were at home together, he saw her stare off at something far away, and he guessed she was imagining the child. Sometimes, whenever they were out, walking the Salem streets, when he was taking her to a restaurant for her dinner, or to Jennifer’s, or to Olivia’s or Martha’s, they would pass a family and he saw her eyes cloud as she watched the mothers with their children. Then, when they visited the Endecotts, she would light up joy whenever little Billy appeared, running to him, laughing, clasping him to her heart. And, when she thought he wasn’t looking, her hands went to her stomach, reaching for the baby that was no longer there. She thought he didn’t see her, but he did. The sight of it sliced at his chest where his heart used to be, and he knew what it felt
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