Blood Debt (Touched Series Book 1) Page 7

  Chris cocked his head to the side momentarily, “I don’t understand the question.”

  “For fun. What do you like to do with your free time?”

  “I volunteer at a clinic downtown a few hours per week. Each year I volunteer for two weeks for an organization called Doctors without Borders. I read in my spare time.”

  Wonderful, a workaholic. “So, no hobbies, like golf or tennis?”

  “I’ve done both. If you enjoy golf and tennis, I’d be happy to take you sometime.”

  “No. I mean, I don’t like either. I just wondered if there was something you enjoyed doing outside of your profession.”

  “I would be willing to give anything a whirl you felt would be a good use of my time.”

  That was by far the creepiest answer he could have given me - like a Stepford Wife in reverse. I really took him in for the first time since his arrival: his posture, his eye contact, his non-verbal language all looked - almost desperate. After replaying the conversation with Brent earlier, one question came to mind. “Chris, how old are you?”

  Chris gave me a forced smile, as if his answer were one of shame, “Twenty-nine.”

  There it was: he was trying hard to make a good impression. If what Brent told me was the truth, and I had no reason to doubt that it was, I was his last chance.

  Chris held the unnatural smile when he asked, “You are new to our kind, is that right?”

  “That’s a great way to put it. Uh, yes . . . I’ve only been here a few days.”

  “My mother told me that your mother never told you about your ancestry. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  Chris let out a long breath, “This must all be a bit much to take in.”

  “That’s a colossal understatement, Chris.”

  “Look, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t be in a hurry to find a husband. You have to make peace with who you are before you can decide whom you want as your partner. I won’t pressure you. But don’t interpret my lack of pressure as lack of interest. I am my parent’s only son. I. . . I would love for you to consider me.”

  “Uh . . . thanks, I think.”

  I thought his sales pitch was over and I could relax, until he said, “The truth is, I think you’re beautiful. I’ve known your brothers since I was a kid and would love to be a part of your family. I believe your family would be equally pleased if you joined mine. But it would be a mistake to try to convince you I am the best choice for you before you are ready to accept who you are.”

  “I know who I am.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, and it has nothing to do with being a. . . Centaur.” I caught myself – it was the first time I had acknowledged it, out loud, outside my family.

  “That’s where you’re mistaken, Camille. It has everything to do with being one of us.”

  “What if I just want to be normal?”

  “Normal isn’t an option when you’re extraordinary.” Chris put his hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You are extraordinary, Camille. Choose wisely.”

  Chris stood up, bowed his head slightly in my direction, and left me reeling on the chair as he left. A handsome, thoughtful, intelligent, eligible, doctor - no less, just told me I was extraordinary and wanted me to choose him. Five days ago if the same thing had happened, I would have followed him around like a love sick puppy - but it wasn’t five days ago. It wasn’t left to fate anymore. Finding a husband had never been on the top of my priorities. Sure, growing up, I had always wondered why my mom never found a husband when my friends’ mothers rarely seemed to settle on one. Meeting Chris just made me want to ask Gretchen more questions.

  I could hear Gretchen’s voice in the hallway, “Yes, she’s here. Let me see if she has a minute.” I was still teetering with reality when she appeared in the doorway. “Camille, you’ve only got an hour before the ceremony. Do you have time to meet someone before you get ready?”

  “I guess so. Who is it?”

  She turned away and used her hand to motion someone from the foyer down to the family room. When he appeared in the doorway, I stood to greet him. Gretchen said, “Gus, this is our daughter, Camille.”

  The fact that Gretchen had used the words, “our daughter,” did not go unnoticed by me. The words startled me a little, more than I had expected them to. I was a little unsteady as I looked up at the man towering over Gretchen. I held out my hand, and he took mine in his hand and shook it vigorously. Gretchen excused herself, and I stood with Gus for an uncomfortable moment.

  “I know you don’t have much time. I just wanted to meet you. I’m Gus Hinman.”

  My years of etiquette were lost on this hulk of a man as I stared at his six-foot-five frame, dark hair, dark eyes and brutish body. He reminded me of a cage fighter I had known back home. “It’s nice to meet you, Gus. I’m Camille.”

  “I passed Chris on the way out. I can see this may be my only opportunity with you today, and I just wanted to say hi.”

  I suddenly felt like I had some sort of “USDA Prime Cut” sticker pasted to me. “Well, I’m glad you . . . stopped . . . I mean. . .” Remembering my manners, “Would you like to sit down?”

  “I don’t want to make you late, but I would like a chance to talk to you later. I play for the Panthers and came back to town for my sister’s wedding to your brother. I live a few hours from here in Charlotte but am home during the off-season.”

  “You’re in the NFL?” I could see from his eyes that this was a great source of pride for him, and I’d be lying if I didn’t confess I was a little impressed myself.

  “Yeah, receiver. I’m not in the area much this time of year, but will be here all week if you’ve got some free time.”

  “Uh, sure, okay.”

  Gretchen popped back in the doorway, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Camille needs to get ready or she’ll be late.” Gretchen ushered Gus to the doorway as I bounded up the steps to my room. As I reached for the door knob, I glanced out the window. Everyone arriving, including the two handsome guys I’d just talked to, were seriously dressed to impress. The first pangs of fear grabbed me when I realized I didn’t have anything to wear, at least nothing that wouldn’t clue everyone in as to how much I really didn’t belong here.

  As I stared at the few changes of clothes I’d brought with me and the items I’d bought shopping with Gretchen, I decided on a denim skirt, flats and a nice blouse I’d tucked in my bag. My nerves took hold. I’d never been one to want to stand out. My lack of a wardrobe would definitely make me stick out like a sore thumb. I couldn’t not attend; I took a seat on the bed, chastising myself for not thinking of this on one of the shopping trips with Gretchen or even earlier this morning. I heard a quiet knock on my door.

  Great. Now what? It’s bad enough someone must have tweeted that there was a single female Centaur at the wedding tonight. I couldn’t imagine what would happen next. Frustrated, I called, “Come in.”

  Gretchen stepped inside my room, “Camille, I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you might be looking for something different to wear. I bought this a few months ago - I didn’t know why at the time.” She smiled warmly at me, “I believe I bought it for you.”

  The hair stood at attention on my arms, “You bought it a few months ago?” I looked at the silver and sequined gown she held in her arms, not knowing what to say.

  Gretchen sat on my bed beside me, “Many of our kind have premonitions, visions. We can see something significant but aren’t able to put it into context at the time. I was out shopping and found this dress. It wasn’t my size and it wasn’t my taste, but something told me I needed to purchase it. I believe I must have bought it for you. Do you like it?”

  It was one of the most beautiful dresses I’d ever seen. Having grown up near Hollywood, I had seen my share of fabulous designer gowns but had never seen one like this one. It was straple
ss, made of brushed silk, with a thin line of sequins sewn across the bodice, and a sheer fabric flowing from the waist to the floor.

  There were no words to describe my feelings for her in that second. How had she been shopping and found a dress for me before she knew me? I knew I had to be a source of pain that she kept masked from me – the illegitimate daughter of her husband. I felt my eyes welling up, wishing I could say to her all the things that my heart felt in that moment.

  She must have felt my thoughts because she laid the dress to her other side and grabbed me in a hearty embrace. “You may not be my biological daughter, but you are the daughter I’ve always wanted.” That was it. The misting I was trying to keep under control let loose as tears streamed down my cheeks. I tried to casually wipe them free, but more followed.

  In that moment I wished to be a part of the family, not just a sister or a long lost daughter, but a full-fledged member of the Strayer family. Guilt crept into me. My own mother created such a deep hole in my heart when she died, I worried that I’d never find anything or anyone to fill the gap. Less than a month later, I sat in a mansion wishing I had grown up here. The guilt started growing larger as I wondered if this love that I was developing for my new found family somehow minimized my feelings for the center of my universe who had just died.

  I released Gretchen, hoping she would ignore the tears, but she didn’t. “Loving us doesn’t diminish the love that you will always have for your mother. That’s the wonderful thing about family: the bigger it is, the larger your heart grows.”

  I stiffened at her words. I kept forgetting that she could read my mind.

  Gretchen’s smile never wavered, but she answered my unspoken question, “Only if you do not shield your thoughts – we’ll work on that tomorrow.”

  My body went rigid. I felt my eyes widen and my voice refused to cooperate. Gretchen’s expression took on a more serious look, “Tomorrow we will continue working on your skills. It won’t come as such a surprise when your skills are sharper and you are able to do the same. But for tonight, try not to think about it. You have many young men who anxiously wish to meet you.”

  I wiped the last couple rouge tears away from my cheeks. As Gretchen stood up, she leaned over and pressed her lips to my forehead. I knew she meant it as a maternal symbol, but as she stood, I felt her body go rigid, a look shot across her face – panic. She was facing a wall so I couldn’t imagine what she would have seen to make her eyes so wide, her voice so urgent, “Camille, dress quickly. Don’t go outside alone. I need to find your father.” She rushed out of my room.

  Don’t go outside alone. Had she seen something? Did she know something bad was about to happen? I did as I was told, but I felt my stomach cinching itself up into a tight knot.

  Chapter 10

  After I had checked myself in the mirror, I could hardly believe the image staring back. I routinely had bad hair days, and the humidity of Charleston wreaked havoc on me. But in this moment, my dark hair somehow looked perfect. Since I was a little girl, I’d always had long auburn hair, naturally curly, which translated to naturally frizzy and wildly-out-of-control most summers. I happened to be wearing one of the most elegant gowns I’d ever seen and felt almost like a fairy princess. I smirked when I said out loud, “Or maybe a Centaur princess.”

  A voice called from the other side of my door, “Honey, are you ready?”

  I recognized the hesitant voice waiting in the hall, “Hi, Will, you can come in.”

  The door opened and Will looked a little tentative. His apprehension melted away. He stretched his arms out to me, taking long strides in my direction, and took both my hands in his. “Camille, you are truly a vision. Have I told you today how happy I am that you’re here?”

  Will stepped over to my bed and sat down, patting the space beside him. I took a seat next to him, a little self-conscious of my “princess” comment, wondering if he’d heard me.

  Will took a deep breath and let it out loudly. “Gretchen has filled you in on some aspects of our kind that are less than ideal, yes?”

  “What? That I’m supposed to pick a husband the same way someone would pick a new puppy at the pound?”

  A nervous chuckle released from Will, “No, actually that was something I thought you might find appealing, but it’s related.” He cleared his throat, “Your mother had been betrothed to Kyle Richardson of Florida. He was not . . . pleased when your mother broke off the engagement.”

  “Okay.” This much I knew, but he had my attention.

  “Our kind, once a woman chooses, she cannot change her mind, at least not without paying a debt to the man she’s rejected. There is good reason for this: as men so clearly outnumber the women, if a woman chooses to break off her engagement, it is rare that another woman would consider that man a potential suitor. He is in essence ‘black-balled,’ and his blood line is unlikely to continue.”

  “So when my mom broke off her engagement, Kyle Richardson wasn’t able to marry anyone?”

  “Actually, he is one of the very few that I have ever heard of to be betrothed a second time to a Centaur woman. The fact that he was given a second chance for his blood line does not diminish his right to exact a blood debt.”

  What she’d said had bothered me, but I wanted to hear it from Will. “Gretchen said that he wanted me dead. Is that true?”

  “As he is the one that the debt is owed to, he sets the price. Given our circumstances and that so much time has passed, he does not wish for your death.”

  The pain in my stomach didn’t diminish as I waited for Will to get to the bad news. “She said you would pay him, and he’d be fine. I get the feeling that that isn’t the case.”

  “Mr. Richardson has traveled to the wedding this evening. He wishes to meet you.”

  “Meet me? But why?”

  “I explained to Mr. Richardson the situation - that I was unaware of you until just this week. You were indeed part of my family. Given your mother’s debt, I felt it was my responsibility to pay to ensure there would be no bad blood between our families.”

  “So, how much am I going to owe you?”

  Will shook his head. “You’ll owe me nothing, Camille. You’re my daughter. If he will accept money as payment, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “If?”

  “It’s complicated, Camille. For right now, he just wants to meet you.”

  “So he’ll be here tonight? I have to meet with him?”

  “Yes. I promise, I will be with you the whole time. Nothing will happen to you tonight. But you must talk to him.”

  I noticed that Will told me everything would be fine “tonight,” but he made no mention of tomorrow or the day after. “Uh . . . okay. I feel like I’m missing something?”

  “He didn’t mention it on the phone, but you know Gretchen sees things. Gretchen shared with me that Mr. Richardson has a son who is of age. He may be unwilling to set a price with an actual dollar value.”

  “Are you saying I have to marry some guy I don’t know because my mother refused to marry his father? You aren’t saying that, are you?”

  “Camille, the possibility is remote. Gretchen senses that his intentions are pure and that it is better to deal with this immediately rather than delay the meeting. Given the wedding tonight, it’s unlikely he’ll create any kind of scene.”

  Our conversation had been calm, but I could feel my blood beginning to boil. I shouldn’t have lashed out at Will, but I was furious that this was even possible. “I’m not marrying some guy I don’t know. That isn’t going to happen!”

  “I will never force you to do anything you do not choose. However, since Mr. Richardson has travelled here tonight, I need to insist that you meet with him.”

  My mouth opened but nothing came out. I started arguing that this was one of the most absurd things I’d ever heard of, but reality was, meeting a man w
ith Will wouldn’t be bad. It’s not like I was being told I had to marry his son. It was harmless, for now.

  As I tried to convince myself that everything would be fine, I realized that knot in my stomach still hadn’t eased. Will reached over and took my hand in his. “Camille, I promise no harm will come to you. Do you trust me?”

  How do you trust someone you hardly know? I looked in his eyes and nearly melted when I saw love staring back at me through his deep brown eyes. No matter how much I disliked the situation, I did trust him. He may not have been a rock star, he wasn’t fixing world hunger, but he was exactly the type of father I had dreamed of. I realized I didn’t need a lifetime to know that I loved him unconditionally and trusted him emphatically. He was my father. I was safe with him, and regardless of what a big wheel he was financially, he had given me the one thing I had craved my whole life - a family who loved me back. I reluctantly nodded that I did trust him.

  Will took me in an embrace. When he let me go, he took my hands in his again. “I have one last request before we head downstairs.” I gave him a quizzical look as I couldn’t imagine anything more concerning than what we’d just talked about. “In front of the guests, I need for you to address me as your father.” He paused, then added, “Especially, Mr. Richardson. I understand if you aren’t comfortable with it, and privately you may address me any way you wish, but tonight, please call me ‘Dad.’”

  My whole life I had known the word. It had always been in my vocabulary. Never having called anyone that name, my eyes gave him my answer. I could feel the glossiness and used all my willpower to keep them from leaking. I could feel the enormous smile begging to be released along with the rouge tears. I held it all in and simply replied, “Okay.”