The Necklace Read online

  Marissa shook her head, feeling a gentle hand rest upon her shoulder.

  It was one thing to know she’d been sheltered, lied to even, but to find out you’d been spawned from a murderess capable of killing her own family was something else entirely.

  “How can you know where you are going if you don’t understand where you came from,” she said, gasping for air, shaking off Baline’s hold on her shoulder.

  “It’s not important to know where you came from. You only have to know where you are going.”

  “Goddammit! Can’t you think of some other shit to say?” she cried, unable to keep her voice from rising to a fevered pitch.

  All her earlier embarrassment faded away.

  Rage, regret, confusion, pain. All of the negative emotions in her mind took hold.

  Whipping around, she stared at Baline, taking in her tender expression.

  Flinching, Marissa couldn’t hold her gaze for longer than a second.

  Turning back toward the mural, her gaze halted at the necklace fastened around her mother’s neck. Narrowing her eyes, she peered at the intricate paints and colors highlighting the jewelry.

  “I’ve seen this before. Jon tried to give it to me before I fell in the tank,” she whispered, remembering the pulsing power from the blood-red stone.

  “Her necklace. It was your mother’s most prized possession. Pure, uncut rubilon with hand carved silver links. She used to wear it all the time. I’m not surprised that it made its way to you.”

  Marissa cringed, sadness invading her mind. She had felt such a connection to that piece of jewelry. She had thought of it often since coming to this strange place. Now though, she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to see it again.

  “I dropped it. I don’t have it anymore. And now, I wouldn’t want to own something from her anyway.”

  “The necklace, and all it entails, is a piece of your heritage, Marissa. But it doesn’t mean that you cannot make your own meanings for its significance. Nor does it mean that you can’t make a new heritage for yourself, one free of anguish.”

  Her thoughts turned to Tylan, of the love she felt for him. Even with their problems, she still wanted to make a life with him.

  Strange mournful sounds echoed about the room, and it took Marissa a moment to realize the sounds were coming from her. Leaning against the cold wall, she let go of her grief, tears streaking down her face.

  “How could she be capable of murdering her family?” she cried.

  “You could ask that question of yourself for the rest of your days and never receive an answer,” Baline replied.

  “But I need to know,” she whispered.

  “You don’t need to know. Let go, Marissa. Let it all go. You have a chance for happiness, and that is much more than most of us will ever receive.”

  Reeling back from the wall, afraid the likeness of her mother would touch her—taint her somehow—she stumbled backwards.

  “What do you hope to achieve by telling me all this!”

  “I hope you will learn to accept yourself. Accept your faults and strengths. You are no different than any other person. Stop running from the past and live your life for today.”

  “You don’t know what I’ve been through. No one can possibly know!” she yelled, afraid and angry at the same time. “You think you’re special, Healer, because you have had some pain in your life. I’d like you to take mine on for size. See how it fits you! Yet, you still have the nerve to come in here telling me what I NEED to do. You are so full of shit!”

  “What in Hades is going on in here!”

  Marissa snapped her head to the entryway way of the throne room, staring into Tylan’s deep gaze. Angry didn’t come close the expression scalded on his face. He looked beyond mad.

  “I was just leaving, my Lord,” Baline said, her long robes ruffling as she began to walk away. “My Lady, if you would like to talk further, I am always available.”

  Baline strode from the room with grace and flourish, golden material billowing behind her. Marissa imagined the Healer always left and entered rooms the same way, full of style and refinement.

  “What went on here, sena? You look … startled somehow. I don’t think fear of my punishment is driving you to look this way, so tell me what went on between you and the Healer.”

  Marissa paced around the room, wiping at her tears. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just go away for a while.”

  “You don’t want me to go away, sena. If I do, you’ll be angry later. I’m sure of it.”

  “See! That’s what’s wrong with everyone. They spend too much time trying to dissect my life instead of trying to figure out what’s going on with their own miserable existence.”

  Silence hung in the air after her statement. She was about to take a moment to savor the stillness when she walked right into Tylan’s chest.

  Gracious! She hadn’t even seen him move.

  “I want you to tell me what’s going on, Marissa. And I want you to tell me now.”

  She blinked, hearing his voice in every corner of her mind.

  She didn’t want to deny him.

  He only had her best interest at heart.

  He wanted to please her.

  Hang on?

  “What the hell are you doing! Ohmygawd! You’re trying to use that voice on me. I can’t believe you! Let me tell you something, buddy. The voice doesn’t work anymore. I’ve been hip to your little game for awhile now.”

  Laughing tonelessly at his stunned expression, she knew Kodak moments were reserved for just these times. He looked so confused, she could’ve just told him the Himalayas were large fissures in the ocean.

  “I’m giving you a courtesy, ca’hill. I can always look in your mind to discover the answer,” he rejoined, the muscles in his face moving into a hard, implacable expression.

  She huffed loudly as a film of moisture clouded her vision. Unconsciously, she walked toward the mural of her mother, staring at the image.

  Trailing her fingers along the outline, emotions built inside her, terrible, frightening emotions.

  “Please don’t look in my mind. I don’t want you to see what I do,” she murmured.

  “Then tell me what is bothering you. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

  Tylan’s large arms wrapped about her waist, pulling her back flush against the heat of his frame. His scent wafted around her, and she inhaled, grateful for the comfort of his presence.

  Swallowing the acrid taste in her mouth, she didn’t know how to tell him her mother was a murderer.

  “Baline told me about … my mother. My birth mother,” she whispered, struggling to keep the thickness in her voice from surfacing. “She told me about her life.”

  “What did she say, leethil?”

  “I don’t want to tell you.”

  “It will help if you do,” he said, his hot breath floating against her ear.

  Gulping, Marissa closed her eyes, pain vaulting inside her body as she recounted all of what Baline had said.

  She told Tylan everything about the killings, the Dissidents, and her mother’s collusion. As the words echoed in her ears, more tears fell from her eyes. God! She didn’t want to believe it, but visions of her hands covered in blood assailed her mind.

  Marissa didn’t really remember much about the dreams she had before coming to Eritrea; and thankfully she hadn’t had one since she arrived. But that image had stayed with her. She had wondered about it often, trying to discover what it meant.

  Now, she knew.

  She felt Tylan stiffen against her back, the gentle touch from the strands of his long hair caressing against her face, as he sighed against her ear.

  Defeated, she bowed her head against her chest, unable to conquer the powerful surge of depression mushrooming in her body.

  “I love you,” he stated simply.

  “You-you’ve never said that before,” she whispered, the words muffled in the folds of the clothes bunching around her neck.

&nb
sp; “Neither have you, but I know you do, sena. You have told me with your actions more than once. I don’t need to hear them to know the truth. But if you want to hear the words for the rest of our days, I will make sure to do so.”

  Her lips trembled, and she gasped, struggling for a breath. “I love you too, Tylan. But, I don’t know how you can still feel the way you do after what I’ve told you. Why would you want to love me? My mother murdered her own family.”

  “That has nothing to do with you, ca’hill. And it doesn’t matter to me.”

  Tears continued streaming down her face. She couldn’t control them. Yet with each falling drop of moisture, the burden became considerably lighter.

  Things didn’t make sense, and there might never be the understanding she craved, but one thing was certain: in this mad and crazy world, Tylan would always be with her, and she would never be without him.

  Sighing, Marissa leaned deeper into his embrace, her back relaxing into him. She didn’t know where this insidious dependence had come from, and parts of her mind still rebelled against the need. Yet she couldn’t deny the comfort she felt from his touch, the security she felt in his arms. Perhaps that was all that really mattered. And, even though that might not be the attitude a liberated new age woman should have, she couldn’t deny that it felt damn good.

  “Promise you won’t keep things from me just because you think I can’t handle it,” she murmured, her head still hanging low. “I can’t live like that anymore, Tylan. I won’t live like that. I want to share everything with you, and I want you to do the same.”

  His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. The soft curve of his jaw nestled against her neck, and she sighed at the feeling, his scent fanning around.

  “From this point on, sena, I will tell you everything.”

  “Th-thank you.”

  “But promise me you won’t take anymore late night walks alone. I don’t think my heart can stand another episode.”

  She laughed tonelessly. “I agree. No more late night walks on the street.”

  Feeling as though she reached some kind of turning point in her life, Marissa finally lifted her head, staring at the mural in front of her. The painted face captured a moment of youth and beauty immortalized in time. The image burned into her mind, and she vowed to never forget the picture for as long as she lived. Yet, as she turned away, she realized the still representation bore no meaning in her life today.

  Tilting her head to meet Tylan’s silver-blue gaze, she stared into what had become her past and her future.

  “Do you think she felt sorry for what she did?” she asked, laying the ghost of her mother to rest.

  “That’s something we’ll never know, sena.”

  “Well, I hope so. I’d like to have one good thought about her. I don’t want to think she’d abandon me and killed her family without remorse.”

  Tylan grunted. “She made the choices, Marissa. But you are not required to live by them.”

  “I swear. Do they give you guys a proverb class here? I’ve never met so many people capable of spouting off…” Marissa felt the blood in her face drain away, her words trailing off into nothingness as a recent conversation reverberated in her ears. “Oh my God,” she muttered, her mind piecing together clues.

  “What is it?”

  “I just-just remembered something Zaron told me. Dissidents murdered his entire family, but his sister’s body was never recovered. Do you think this … my mother is his sister?”

  Tylan frowned, his blonde brows dropping low on his forehead. “It’s possible,” he muttered. “But I don’t know for sure, Marissa. The attack occurred after I had been crowned for many years. Zaron was a very young man at the time. He might also have been killed had he not been away in warrior training.” Tylan paused, looking up, confusion etching his features. “I do remember a servant being blamed for the treachery though. It was widely believed that only someone with inside knowledge could have breached the barriers of the house.”

  “So, it is possible then?”

  “Yes.”

  “That would make him my uncle,” she said, frowning somewhat at the thought.

  Tylan grimaced beside her, and she figured he’d also had the same thought. “I don’t think you should jump to conclusions yet, sena,” he said. “The Dissidents have murdered many people over the course of thousands of years. Baline could have been talking about anyone.”

  “Yes,” she replied hastily. “But do you remember what his sister’s name was? Baline said her name was Tao.”

  Tylan froze, his entire body going like a statue. “That was his sister’s name.”

  “Oh my God,” Marissa breathed. “He thinks his sister was raped and killed. He doesn’t know what happened, Tylan.”

  “The Dissidents did kill his family though, sena. Nothing you will tell him will change that.”

  “But he has a right to know what happened,” she murmured into his chest. “Doesn’t he?”

  “You aren’t even sure yet, Marissa,” Tylan responded, his voice hushed and low.

  “Oh God, Tylan. I hope I’m wrong.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “I should tell him,” Marissa said, staring up at the darkened ceiling in their chamber.

  Tylan yawned. “You are not even sure yet, sena.”

  “But, it could be true,” she murmured, turning her face into his shoulder.

  “Try to sleep, Marissa.”

  “I can’t.”

  Tylan sighed, before flipping her over so she lay beneath him. She couldn’t help laughing at the devilish expression glowing in his eyes.

  “Maybe I can help you with that.”

  “Would you stop,” she muttered, avoiding the lips trying to attach to her face. “This is serious.”

  Smacking his chest hard, Marissa grimaced as pain shot through her hand. Clenching and unclenching her fist, she shook her head at him. “I can’t believe you’d want to get in my pants during a time a like this.”

  Tylan laughed. “You aren’t wearing pants. Matter of fact, you aren’t wearing anything at all.”

  “UGH! That’s ‘cause you don’t let me sleep in clothes like a normal person.”

  He chuckled. “Normal people don’t sleep in clothes, leethil.”

  Rolling her eyes, Marissa moved from under him, raising up on one elbow to peer down at him. “Look, I’m serious, Tylan. I have to tell Zaron about his sister. My mother. He has a right to know.”

  “But, what if you are wrong? You’ll bring back all his grief. Dredge it up all over again. You forget, we live much longer lives than humans. That gives us a long time to think about things.”

  Sighing, Marissa realized the truth of his words. If she were wrong, she’d be doing a horrible disservice to Zaron by bringing up moments he’d rather forget about. Though, if their conversation had been anything to go on, she truly doubted if he’d buried any hatchets.

  “I know you’re right, Tylan,” she sighed, turning to lie on her back. “But what if it’s true? Don’t I have a responsibility to let him know?”

  “It won’t change anything, leethil. What will change if he learns his sister plotted to murder her family? Do you think that will help him with his grief?”

  Marissa doubted it, but inside she felt sorry for the man, the burdens he had lived under for so long. Maybe if he knew the cause behind the murders, he could lay his sorrow to rest, move forward with his life.

  Maybe they both could.

  “I don’t know if it will help him, Tylan. But it might,” she murmured.

  “I will speak with Cowan tomorrow, sena. If it’s true, he’ll find out,” Tylan said, his voice low and hushed. “And then, if you still wish, you can tell him.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling somewhat at ease.

  Tylan grunted in response as he pulled her close, wrapping his massive arms about her waist. Snuggling into his caress, the stresses of her long day began to wear away under the darkness.


  “Sleep, leethil,” Tylan urged, running his hand along her hair.

  Nodding, Marissa shifted her head to lie against his chest. She tried her best to still her edgy thoughts, but she couldn’t settle her mind enough to relax. Fidgety, she drummed her fingers against his stomach, counting the beats of his heart as they thrummed beneath her ear, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  The primordial sounds of his body began to send chords of desire curling through her limbs. She knew it was some type of emotional hangover left from the trauma of the day. But no matter how hard she tried to rationalize, she couldn’t stop the lustful feelings from growing.

  Grasping Tylan’s nipple between her thumb and index finger, she twisted the hardened flesh gently.

  Smiling at his strangled sigh, Marissa climbed on top of him, easily pinning his arms with her hands. He could have broken free, of course, yet he stayed still, his silver-blue gaze piercing in the darkened interior.

  “What is it that you want, Marissa?”

  “You know what want,” she whispered, leaning closer to trail her lips against the smooth skin of his face.

  “I can’t believe you can think of getting into my pants during a time like this, sena,” he said, laughing.

  “I think you must be rubbing off on me. This…” she paused her words, punctuating the silence as she ran her hand down his chest to grasp the thick length of his cock, “…is all I seem to think about.”

  Tylan moaned. “I rubbed off on you, leethil? Right now, you’re the only one doing the rubbing.”

  “That’s ‘cause I’m trying to seduce you,” she mumbled, running her tongue against the curved slope of his ear.

  Tylan chuckled, before flipping her smoothly on her back. “Now who’s in control?”

  “Me,” she murmured.

  He smiled, and even in the darkness of the room, she could see the pearly white glint of his teeth.

  “Is that right.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  His hand cupped the side of her face, while his other hand roamed along the slope of her breasts. Desire moved through her body, and she opened her legs, rocking the cradle of her thighs closer to his heat.