Kristi Cook - Eternal

He actually rolled his eyes. “How could you possibly have known that?”

I shrugged. “Because all my visions have meaning. None of them are just everyday, throwaway stuff.”

“So that’s what you’re blaming yourself for? Not realizing what the vision meant? C’mon, Violet. It’s not like the visions come with a voice-over. Cut yourself some slack, why don’t you?”

“Anyway, there’s more,” I continued, wanting to get it all off my chest. “The other vision, the one with Whitney.” I swallowed hard. “ I sent her out of the apartment. It was my fault she was in the park.”

“Okay, yeah,” he said with a nod. “She was in the park because you sent her out of the apartment. I’ll give you that. But if you’d somehow convinced her to stay in the apartment, he would have just attacked her here instead. And worse, neither of us would have been around to stop it, right?”

I just nodded.

“The only way you could have possibly thwarted it would have been to stop Aidan beforehand and somehow change his course. He was on his way here when whatever it was kicked in and set him off into attack mode. Where Whitney happened to be when he caught up with her—this apartment, the park, or somewhere else entirely—was irrelevant.”

I shook my head, confused. “I don’t get it.”

He leaned toward me, his elbows resting on the table now. “Think of it this way: Remember that vision you told me about where your grandmother’s housekeeper fell and broke her hip?”

“Lupe,” I offered.

“Right, Lupe. You stopped her, because she was the one whose intent you interrupted. But let’s say you had seen someone with her in that vision—a friend, or something. Convincing the friend not to be there when Lupe slipped and fell wouldn’t have necessarily altered the outcome.”

“So, following your logic, if I had somehow convinced my dad not to take that assignment in Afghanistan, the kidnappers would have come for him anyway? Is that what you’re saying? Because that doesn’t even make sense.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions. “You’re not taking intent into account. In that case, their intent wasn’t to kidnap and murder your father, specifically. They meant to capture an American journalist, who just happened to be your father. I can only assume that if you had convinced him to stay, it would have been some other journalist who suffered his fate instead.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “Ugh. I can’t wrap my head around this. It’s like the whole chicken-or-the-egg argument, only worse.”

“Well, that’s what you’ve got me for. It’s an honor to serve you,” he said with a grin, obviously trying to be funny.

“Yeah, lucky me.” Instantly, I regretted my words, my cheeks flushing hotly. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I don’t mean to sound like an ungrateful brat. Seriously. I’m just so freaked out right now. I’m worried about Aidan, and I miss him like crazy.” I stood so abruptly that I nearly knocked over my chair. I steadied it, gripping the back so hard that my knuckles turned white.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” I continued. “Not with me being a Sâbbat and all. But I didn’t ask for this. I’m not interested in playing Buffy and ridding the world of vampires. And besides, if you think this is some kind of . . . of honor ,” I sputtered, nearly choking on the word, “then I’m never going to be able to make you understand.”

As calm as always, Matthew stood, holding a hand out to me. “Come here, Violet.”

I took a deep breath, spent now. I took his hand, allowing him to pull me into an embrace. I choked back a sob, pressing my face against the soft fabric of his shirt. Beneath my cheek, I could feel his heart thumping against his ribs as my tears spilled over.

“Shh,” he said, patting me on the back. “Go on and cry.”

“I hate this,” I blubbered, wiping my nose with the back of one hand. “I really, really hate it.”

“I know you do.”

I tried to force back the tears, but it took a good two or three minutes before I managed to pull myself together. It felt comfortable there in his arms, I realized. Safe. Which was pretty embarrassing, actually.

“Sorry about that,” I mumbled, my voice muffled against his chest. I took a step back, my cheeks flaming.

“You okay?” he asked, peering down at me with drawn brows.

I nodded, reaching for a tissue. I blew my nose, then dabbed at my damp, swollen eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Tired, that’s all.” On shaky legs, I made my way to the sofa and sat down.

He followed me, settling onto the far side of the sofa. A nice, safe distance away.

Warily, I watched him.

He looked slightly discomposed, his eyes troubled. “For the record, this isn’t all that much fun for me, either. I never understood it—the pressure I felt to excel at school, to graduate early, to do a PhD in record time. Now I know why, of course. I needed to be in the right place at the right time in order to find you—just a two-year window at Winterhaven—but I didn’t know that at the time.”

I shook my head in amazement. “How did you do it?”

“I rode myself ragged. I doubled up on courses and gave up any semblance of a social life in order to push myself as hard as possible academically. Do you have any idea what it’s like to go off to college at sixteen? I didn’t have my driver’s license. I’d never even been on a date. Trust me, it sucked.”

With a start, I realized that he was giving up his social life now, too. After all, he’d spent pretty much every spare moment of the break with me . “Sorry about that,” I muttered.

He tipped up my chin so that my gaze met his steady brown one. “Don’t be sorry, Violet. This is my purpose. I’ve made peace with it.”

“How can you accept it like that?”

He shrugged. “Because it is what it is. I’ve known about the Megvédio since I was twelve. Say what you want, but I’m proud of my heritage. My father made sure I realized what a privilege it would be to find my Sâbbat , how rare and special. I never even imagined . . .” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Never imagined what?” I prodded, an uncomfortable knot in the pit of my stomach.

Again, his gaze met mine, steady and intense. “It is special,” he said softly. “I would do anything for you.”

“Oh, man. You realize how weird this is, right? I mean, you shouldn’t be saying this stuff. If people were to hear . . .” I bit my lower lip. “Do you have any idea how skeevy it sounds?”

“Just know that it’s not like that , okay?” he said, his cheeks reddening. “It’s more . . . I don’t know”—he shook his head—“brotherly or something. I want to protect you; that’s all. I have to protect you. Can you understand that?”

“Not really,” I said with a grimace, even though deep down I felt it too—the bond. I’d never admit it, not in a million years. Not to him, not to anyone. My feelings for Matthew were . . . complicated. But somehow it felt right when he was by my side. I felt complete. At least, as complete as possible without Aidan in my life.

“I know it’s crazy, this whole Sâbbat-Megvéd thing. I’m not saying it isn’t. I mean, you’re just a kid.”

“I am not a kid,” I argued. “I’m almost eighteen.”

The corners of his mouth lifted with the hint of a smile. “You can’t have it both ways. Either it’s skeevy because you’re a kid, or you’re not a kid and therefore it’s not all that skeevy. Choose one.”