Tempting Gray - Untouchables 02 by T. A. Grey Page A

it landed on Anita. Wrapped in the
gauze, she resembled a caterpillar in a cocoon. Beautiful, yet alien.
    As he lit the torch in the fire he couldn’t
help but wonder how his hands didn’t shake. Out of all the times in his
life he’d been scared now was the time when his hands stayed calm. His own body
made him feel even more like a failure. He should be shaking. Because he was
about to burn his bruid’s body to ash.
    Two Passers stepped up to the stone pyre. They
carried a golden oil lamp in each hand; engraved on it was a prayer for the
deceased. They sang a slow song filled with ache and despair.
    Grayson swallowed. A lump was caught in his
throat the size of a fist.
    He took the three steps up to the pyre where
her body rested, peacefully. Maybe now she could find solace. A tear slid down
his cheek and splashed onto her body. He was supposed to say something. What
for? What good would it do? She was dead because of him. Because he hadn’t been
careful enough, smart enough…
    Grayson realized he’d been standing with the
burning torch in his hand for some time before his step-mother came up beside
him. She startled him. Diane Blackmoore had grown to be as much like a second
mother as one could be. She’d already been mated to his father, Argonzo, when
Grayson was born. His father had several sons by several mothers. Only when they
reached a certain age did Argonzo fetch them away to give them better lives.
What a load of a shit.
    How is this life possibly better than what he
could have had as a poor vampire living in Turkey?
    Diane wore a black dress and veil. “It is time,”
she said gently.
    Grayson gazed down at his dead mate. He still
couldn’t believe it, any of this. That he was here. That she was dead. That any
of this had happened stupefied him. This wasn’t how things were supposed to
happen. In such a short period of time his life had been spun upside down,
kicked inside out, and thrown into a burning hell.
    His brain knew it had to lower his arm to burn
Anita’s body. But, his body refused to move. He hovered above her beautifully
covered body. Weaved into the gauze were strands of gold thread and white lace.
Her face was obscured, but if he looked hard enough he could make out the
features of her face.
    Lower your arm. You have to do it.
    His hand made no intent to move. He ground his
teeth, gnashing molars into chalk.
    “Son, it is time.”
    Diane’s gentle words shook him. Shattered
something fragile inside him. It broke lose. Only then did he cry. Only then
did his grip on the torch waver. The flame danced nervously, flickering. With
each and every single breath he had to smell that foul odor. The filthy stench that covered her body. It smelled sickeningly sweet like lemons and flowers.
His gut churned and churned. Bile shot up his swollen throat which he swallowed
back audibly.
    “I cannot,” he said.
    He heard his step-mother moving, felt her hand
upon his shoulder. “I know you can.” Spoken from a woman who truly did know?
Because she lit the torch for his father. How hard that must have been for her.
He remembered how quiet she’d been, resolved. All this time he never knew that
on the inside she’d been screaming in agony.
    She left him.
    And, finally, Grayson lowered the torch. The
oil caught fire in a burst of light. The orange and red flames licked up her
body like a sickness. It began at her feet where the torch touched and crept up
her legs. The gauze blackened and curled like a dead spider tucking its legs
inward. Black smoke, smelling faintly of lemons and roses saturated the air in
a cloud.
    As the flames climbed higher, grew hotter,
Grayson didn’t back away. The heat from the flames scorched him, made sweat
drip down his face, but he didn’t move. Not even when the flames died down and
her body turned to ash.
    He’d been unable to save her from two
miscarriages that had doomed their connection. Then he’d been unable to protect
her from the alcoholism. Nothing he’d