Robertson checked Taz one last time and stopped at the cabin door. “Matthias, take care of her. I have to trust you with her now. Please protect my little girl.”
He nodded. “With my very life. You have my word.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Matthias showered and changed clothes. Taz was still unconscious. Hours later she moaned, rolled over, and lay still. Matthias checked her then gently probed her mind. She was catatonic, unresponsive. He tried to awaken her and eventually let her be once he realized how fragile she was.
Albert and Robertson returned to the cabins with the guards late that night. Robertson brought food, and Matthias ate while Albert gave him the update. Three of the attendees were Tribunal members and took Caroline into custody. Considering the circumstances, everyone understood Matthias’ actions.
There would be a hearing in London as soon as Taz was well enough to make the trip. The Tribunal would guard Caroline until then. Caroline confessed what she did after almost being boiled to death by Anastazia, and would plead guilty in exchange for a life sentence or other suitable punishment, to be later determined by the Tribunal.
Anything was better than what Caroline saw in Anastazia’s thoughts, how she’d planned to slowly walk her, an inch at a time, into the scalding water until she died.
Whatever happened, they needed Caroline’s information for now, to investigate, discover who was behind the scheme.
By the next morning the men were concerned because Taz hadn’t regained consciousness. Her skin looked grey and pale, and while her pulse felt stronger than the day before, Matthias sensed her mind had weakened. They left for Gardiner and from there to Livingston, where the corporate jet awaited, fueled and ready to take off. Back home in Florida late that night, Robertson helped Matthias carry her upstairs to bed.
Matthias wrapped his body around her, cradled her, tried to get her to respond. She was full of guilt, pain, and shame over her actions. She was withdrawing, trying to die.
Trying to join Rafael.
Matthias closed his eyes and gently coaxed her thoughts to him. It took a while, but he found his way into her mental room where she based many of her images. He found her sitting in a rocking chair, her back to him. The walls were a dull grey instead of their usual colors, the windows dark.
Matthias thought he spied a shadowy figure in the corner, but when he looked again, it was gone.
“Anastazia, my love, you must return to me.” In her mind, he knelt next to her, taking her hands in his.
Her eyes were sunken, bloodshot, devoid of life. “I can’t. I killed him. I almost killed her. I’m a monster.”
“No, Anastazia, you’re not a monster. You’re my beautiful, sweet love. It will break my heart to lose you. I don’t want to go through that kind of loss twice in my life. We’ve had no time together. We should have centuries to love each other.”
She looked at him. “You don’t understand.”
Even in her mind she worked Rafael’s ring on her hand.
“I do understand. Do you think Rafael would want you to let yourself die? He loved you, Taz. You know he did.”
She didn’t respond, worked the ring harder.
“He survived for many years after Cassandra died. He told you that. I survived after my wife died. You will, too. You can. You have to.”
“You two weren’t monsters. I shouldn’t live.”
“You are anything but a monster. You are my love, my only, my beautiful, sweet love.”
Robertson’s warnings chose that moment to haunt Matthias, that she would have him groveling on his knees. Tim had been correct, but wrong about the circumstances.
“I can’t risk hurting someone else, Matthias. I need to die.”
“I won’t let you die. I didn’t let you hurt her.”
“You almost couldn’t stop me.”
“But I did.”
“I can’t give you that responsibility.”
“I want it, Taz. Give it to me.”
On the bed, her body shuddered in his arms. He took that as a good sign.
“I want to take care of you, Taz. It’s my fault this happened. You weren’t ready, and it was my responsibility to teach you, to protect you, and I failed.”
On the bed he kissed her, gently, tasting, caressing her lips with his. In his mind he told her, “You cannot die. I do not want to go through that again. All those centuries without love and now I have you. Please come back to me, and let me help you. Let me love you.”
He didn’t stop kissing her and eventually felt her respond a little.
“That’s it,” Matthias whispered, kissing her again. “Come back to me, please.”
Her eyes opened, but they were dull, flat, emotionless. She looked at him for a long moment then closed them again, trying to sink back into catatonia.
Matthias felt around in his pockets with one hand, found his pen knife, and opened it. If she was conscious, she would drink. She had to. He nicked the ends of his first and second fingers and squeezed. Small drops of blood oozed from the wounds. He dropped the knife to the table next to the bed.
Shifting position slightly, he pushed his fingers into her mouth, cradling her with his other arm. “You have to live for me. You cannot resist me. I cannot resist you.”
She tried pulling away, but she was too weak to struggle. She hadn’t eaten in nearly forty-eight hours, and with all the energy she expended, he was afraid she’d die if he didn’t do something soon.
Her tongue flicked at his fingers. She tasted then weakly sucked.
He kissed the top of her head. “I know you hurt. It’s okay. We’ll get through it together.”
As she weakly suckled, he tried to ignore how uncomfortably tight his jeans became. She was very weak. As fragile as she was, he was afraid to force her to drink more, wasn’t sure she’d take if it he did.
After twenty minutes she drifted into a deep sleep, his fingers still in her mouth. Her skin looked pinker. He risked searching her mind, saw she was stronger.
He didn’t remove his fingers, squeezing them occasionally to keep the blood moving. Every few minutes he stroked her cheek, and she involuntarily swallowed, like a baby. After a few hours he got up, feeling in her mind she was just deeply asleep and no longer catatonic.
Robertson stood as Matthias quietly closed the door behind him. He’d stationed himself in a chair just outside their bedroom door. “How is she?”
Matthias shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
Robertson watched her while Matthias ate dinner. Then Matthias returned to her, feeling a hundred years older over the past two days, and decided to take a bath to relax. He filled the large, deep spa tub with water and started to get in when he had a thought.
He went to Anastazia and looked in her mind. She was still sleeping but not as deeply. He took the knife into the bath and laid it on the edge of the tub then carefully undressed her and carried her into the bathroom, climbing into the tub with her, cradling her in his arms.
They floated in the warm, deep water. He took the knife and sliced into his fingers again, getting more blood.
With her resting against his chest he held her, murmuring her name over and over as he gently pushed his fingers into her mouth. This time she didn’t pull away, and he felt her latch on, stronger. He took one of her hands and placed it over his, encouraging her to hold on to him. Finally, she did.
He touched her mind, but she was still so frail he was afraid to push her. Over an hour later they were still there, but she was, at least, still feeding and responding.