28 Seconds: A House of Valentine Novella Read Online Free PDF Page B

even get a grip on it. Cole was beside me, throwing them open in split second. I inhaled the salty breeze, listening to sound of the surf crashing in regular intervals, and ignoring Cole’s desperate check of my blood pressure. It would be immeasurable, I knew.
    “Fuck, Ariana.” He tried again, assuming his count had been wrong. “I’m gonna get Tony. I’ll be right back-”
    “No,” I held him back. “Just give me a minute. Please.” I climbed onto the window seat, pressing my knees to my chest, and began counting the seconds between the waves. When I’d hit two hundred, I exhaled and offered my wrist up to Cole.
    He counted. “Better,” he admitted. “Still not good but better.” He sat down beside me, lifting up my legs and crossing them over his. His voice was soft, a request rather than a command. “But?”
    I dropped my head back against the wall, my eyes closing. Though I tried to concentrate on the ocean sounds, knowing it would settle me, it took only moments for the silent tears start falling.
    “I’ve been with the Valentine family for twenty-six years. The darkness, depravity, and betrayal that I’ve witnessed during that time is unfathomable. There is nothing you could tell me that would surprise me or make me walk away.”
    I hesitated a second longer than he was willing to wait. “Ariana, I cradled you and your mother in my arms as she died. I helped wipe her blood, and the blood of the man you killed, from your skin. I’ve had my hands on every part of your body. I’ve had them inside you for chrissakes. I’ve listened to you beg my name as you come. What could possibly be more private than any of those things?”
    “The flashbacks were not brought on by the stress of my mother’s death or by Valentine,” I clipped before I lost my nerve.
    “The flashbacks,” he murmured with a half smile. “You were distracting me so I wouldn’t realize you failed to explain them. Clever, Ariana, very clever. Have you always had them then?”
    I nodded.
    “For how long?”
    “When I was little, just in school, they were constant. Like every night. My mom said it was the stress of moving and they did start going away. Never completely but down to once or twice a month maybe.”
    “And now how often?”
    “Now?”
    “Since your mother’s death.”
    I shrugged, not trusting my voice.
    “Ariana, how often?”
    “Twice a day,” I murmured, “sometimes more.”
    His head dropped against the window frame, lost in thought. “But before we drugged you. You had one right before that, didn’t you? In the house.” His eyes narrowed. “When Marco entered.”
    “And many others. You had an army with you, Cole.”
    “But-”
    “It’s not just Marco,” I whispered, “it’s never just been him.”
    He rubbed my leg in slow, steady strokes. “Maybe it’s time to define what you call violent.”
    “And maybe it’s not,” I countered. “Cole, I know you are trying to help and I appreciate that. I need that more than you know. But I did see my mother killed in my arms. She did bleed to death, gasping for breath, in my lap. I hear her last words echoing in my head at all times. All these flashbacks, whether they are real or imaginary, are merely competing in my scientific brain for some hierarchy of the awful events in my life. And thinking about them just makes them all come rushing back in a movie montage that is killing me. So, please-”
    “Okay.” His hands were on my face, wiping away the rush of frantic tears that were drenching me. “Ariana, I get it and it’s okay. Just breathe.”
    “God, I’m so fucking pathetic,” I said through broken gasps. “Why can’t I stop crying these days? Damn.”
    “You’re not pathetic, Ariana. You’re human. You’ve been thrown so much, so fast, I’d be worried if you weren’t emotional. Add in some pretty damn brutal visions and I’m surprised you’re still standing. No one, save a Valentine, could handle what you’ve been