Her blood was what had made her a desirable wife, her beauty was what had made her a desirable woman, and her eyes were what had earned his caution.1

She had her brother’s eyes, Damon’s haunting eyes, constantly reminding him of what he had done, always accusing: Murderer! Assassin! Killer!2

The words never left her lips and never would, still her eyes said it all, every time her eyes found his he could see it: What have you done, husband? You killed him…You killed them all. Why did you have to annihilate my family? I trusted you so much-3

Sometimes it petrified him when she looked in his direction and he wondered just how much she saw.4

Sometimes it was excruciating. Sometimes he wanted to gouge her eyes out only to end his agonizing torment…5

But most of the time he saw them as punishment, an eternal reminder for killing his best friend.6

Perhaps wanting to keep her, a source of pain, so close, always in his view, made him some sort of pain-devoted masochist. That would explain everything, like why he had grown so attached, even grown to love, the tool of a woman who probably despised him for killing her family, for killing her beloved brother, her only brother, his only friend.7

She hated violence of any kind, too humane for the world she was living in. She was even too kind to him, not releasing a single word of protest when he entered her room and sat down opposite of her, watching her read. She didn't even flinch under his stare, a stare under which so many cowered and feared for their sorry lives.8

“Selene?”9

Her eyes looked up from the crisp pages of her book and stared straight into his eyes.10

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, holding the dark gaze that made him think of Damon. 11

Damon, the image of youth and happiness, so casually handsome with his broad smile and dark eyes, eyes that saw to the soul and further, looking at him in such a way that he knew Damon was the only one that could understand him. That is why he had to go.12

“Nauseous,” she replied softly before her eyes left him and returned to the book.13

He smiled slightly, eyes traveling to her stomach and he could see a small bulge forming.14

“You think he will have your eyes?” The eyes both you and your brother had, he meant and she understood, he knew she knew…she always knew.15

She looked up again: Afraid Tristan, my husband? Afraid of your own child? Of your own child’s eyes? Will you look at our child the same way you look at me?16

Her eyes said it all but her lips settled for a simple, “Possibly.” She spoke softly, as she always did, as if every word that rolled off her tongue was of grave secrecy. “Why are you so sure it is a boy?” she asked, turning the page.17

“I hope for a son,” Tristan said slowly. It was true and he once again questioned himself for being a masochist. How could he enjoy so much pain? 18

She nodded. “Maybe our child will be a girl.” She was so clever, choosing her words carefully, not saying it, but implying it, implying it with those haunting eyes: So it wasn't your son that my brother’s wife bore? The child you killed, the child whose face you searched for your look and after finding none destroyed? You still long for a son, my husband?19

“We will see,” he answered. “Do you like the dress I bought for you?” The dress she would wear when she stood astride him before his own unbroken family. A family that neither she nor her brother had had any dream of destroying and ripping apart for their own satisfaction and privileges.20

“Yes, it is lovely,” she said politely: A scarlet dress, Tristan? How bloodthirsty are you? Does the color against my skin remind you of my family, the ones you killed? The ones whose lives you ended so abruptly? You're sick Tristan…so sick!21

“It was my pleasure, my precious wife.”22

Selene didn’t look up from her book but smiled sweetly: I'm not yours. I will never be yours. You have may have my title and my body but will never heave my heart, soul, or life…23

“Selene?”24

“Yes,” she murmured as he woke her from her reverie.25

“Do you love me?”26

“Yes.” She averted her eyes, the tone of her voice sounding oddly detached.27

He ignored it. That little word three-lettered word she had said out of pure decency would help him fall asleep that night when swears he sees Damon watching from the shadows with the cold, dark eyes of his wife…28