someone had jammed Ry's machete into his gut and was twisting it around just for shits and giggles.
He did not have time for this crap. Really. He didn't. Ian fisted his hands as he tried to summon the internal walls that would protect him from the destructive emotions that were toasting his anticipated demise. Even though he rebelled against the despair pouring through him, it came anyway, tearing apart his carefully erected protections with the force of a tsunami shredding a defenseless beach. "Alice!" Her name tore from him, ripping the last shreds of his control and thrusting him ruthlessly into the emotional torment of love wrested from the deepest of souls.
Ian lunged forward, trying to catch her as she raced down the beach, but the curse slammed into him, throwing him to his knees, like he was some minion genuflecting to the power of death. Jesus, he was getting tired of this. The curse hadn't gotten to him this badly in months, and yet it had brought him down three times in twenty minutes now that he was near Alice?
Things were definitely not heading in the right direction.
The voice that had killed his ancestors began to swirl though his mind with its annoyingly familiar refrain. You can't survive without her. It's too much. Too lonely. You must die.
The image of the graveyard that housed all his male ancestors flashed through Ian's mind and he swore. Shit. He was not in the mood to be buried right now. Seriously. "I appreciate the offer, but it doesn't fit in with my plans," he gritted out, fighting to keep a sense of humor, a sense of perspective, a sense of humanity in the face of such debilitating loss.
She's gone , the voice taunted . She's dead. You lost her. Alice is gone.
"She's not gone! She's in the ocean twenty yards away, for God's sake. I know it. You know it. So leave me the hell alone." But despite his words, agonizing loneliness filled Ian like he was some sorry-assed, love-struck sap. All he could think about was Alice's green eyes, the depth of pain and fear in her expression when he'd held her as she'd died. Three times she'd died in his arms, taken despite the fact that her own protector had been standing over her. And now she was heading off on her own again, no doubt to another death, because that seemed to be how the woman liked to fill her days. How many times was she going to die?
You failed to keep her safe. You suck.
Suck? He sucked? What the hell was that? But he knew it was true. He'd failed to keep her safe. Failed . It was his fault she'd died. It was his fault she'd suffered. It was his failure to fulfill his duty. What kind of a man was he, if he couldn’t keep his own soul mate alive? The familiar emotions of shame and despair spread through him, like a powerful poison eating away at him, and he swore, steeling himself against the onslaught he knew was coming.
He had to be stronger than the curse. It was getting old, so fucking old, and he was getting tired of being brought down by it. Ian fought to regain control of his emotions. If he died, if he killed himself, he would leave Alice unprotected. Alice needed him . Without him, Alice would not come back from the dead this time. He repeated the same litany of reasons why he needed to stay alive, how it was his duty, how his reason for being was to keep her safe, but this time, it wasn't working. The despair was getting stronger instead of weaker.
He was too vulnerable to her. He'd dropped too many damn shields, and he was treading in that dangerous position his father had been in before he'd killed himself—
"Pull your shit together, Fitzgerald!" Ryland swung a piece of driftwood the size of a telephone pole at Ian's head.
"Shit!" Ian raised his arm to block it, and the log slammed into his forearm with enough force to shatter every bone, if he were human. Conveniently, he wasn't. As his arm made contact with the wood, a loud crack split the night, and the log snapped in half, breaking harmlessly around Ian instead of
He did not have time for this crap. Really. He didn't. Ian fisted his hands as he tried to summon the internal walls that would protect him from the destructive emotions that were toasting his anticipated demise. Even though he rebelled against the despair pouring through him, it came anyway, tearing apart his carefully erected protections with the force of a tsunami shredding a defenseless beach. "Alice!" Her name tore from him, ripping the last shreds of his control and thrusting him ruthlessly into the emotional torment of love wrested from the deepest of souls.
Ian lunged forward, trying to catch her as she raced down the beach, but the curse slammed into him, throwing him to his knees, like he was some minion genuflecting to the power of death. Jesus, he was getting tired of this. The curse hadn't gotten to him this badly in months, and yet it had brought him down three times in twenty minutes now that he was near Alice?
Things were definitely not heading in the right direction.
The voice that had killed his ancestors began to swirl though his mind with its annoyingly familiar refrain. You can't survive without her. It's too much. Too lonely. You must die.
The image of the graveyard that housed all his male ancestors flashed through Ian's mind and he swore. Shit. He was not in the mood to be buried right now. Seriously. "I appreciate the offer, but it doesn't fit in with my plans," he gritted out, fighting to keep a sense of humor, a sense of perspective, a sense of humanity in the face of such debilitating loss.
She's gone , the voice taunted . She's dead. You lost her. Alice is gone.
"She's not gone! She's in the ocean twenty yards away, for God's sake. I know it. You know it. So leave me the hell alone." But despite his words, agonizing loneliness filled Ian like he was some sorry-assed, love-struck sap. All he could think about was Alice's green eyes, the depth of pain and fear in her expression when he'd held her as she'd died. Three times she'd died in his arms, taken despite the fact that her own protector had been standing over her. And now she was heading off on her own again, no doubt to another death, because that seemed to be how the woman liked to fill her days. How many times was she going to die?
You failed to keep her safe. You suck.
Suck? He sucked? What the hell was that? But he knew it was true. He'd failed to keep her safe. Failed . It was his fault she'd died. It was his fault she'd suffered. It was his failure to fulfill his duty. What kind of a man was he, if he couldn’t keep his own soul mate alive? The familiar emotions of shame and despair spread through him, like a powerful poison eating away at him, and he swore, steeling himself against the onslaught he knew was coming.
He had to be stronger than the curse. It was getting old, so fucking old, and he was getting tired of being brought down by it. Ian fought to regain control of his emotions. If he died, if he killed himself, he would leave Alice unprotected. Alice needed him . Without him, Alice would not come back from the dead this time. He repeated the same litany of reasons why he needed to stay alive, how it was his duty, how his reason for being was to keep her safe, but this time, it wasn't working. The despair was getting stronger instead of weaker.
He was too vulnerable to her. He'd dropped too many damn shields, and he was treading in that dangerous position his father had been in before he'd killed himself—
"Pull your shit together, Fitzgerald!" Ryland swung a piece of driftwood the size of a telephone pole at Ian's head.
"Shit!" Ian raised his arm to block it, and the log slammed into his forearm with enough force to shatter every bone, if he were human. Conveniently, he wasn't. As his arm made contact with the wood, a loud crack split the night, and the log snapped in half, breaking harmlessly around Ian instead of
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