by Lola Gabriel
Gia let out a laugh of disbelief. “You save my life, and now you’re inviting me to a party at the palace? What are you, my fairy godmother?”
“Maybe?” the girl answered with a broad grin. She held out her hand. “My name is Allegra.”
Gia smiled and reached out to shake Allegra’s hand. “Gia.”
When their palms touched, flashing images flooded Gia’s mind, drowning her in a torrent: Allegra standing at her side in a ballgown, pointing at a staircase as a breathtakingly handsome man descended; Gia lying naked in the man’s arms, staring into his intense green eyes as he whispered his love for her; Gia and the man pressing their hands together through a wall of glass…
Gia pulled her hand back at the same time as Allegra, breathing heavily at the sea of emotions running through her.
“Woah,” she mumbled. “Did you feel that?”
Allegra nodded at her, her eyes wide in disbelief. “I think that’s a sign you should come tonight.”
With a choked-off laugh, Gia found herself agreeing. “I think you’re right.”
Epilogue
“It has been confirmed that Mira has been put to death. I’m still not sure how Wilder figured out she was leading the traitors, but we are very fortunate to have made that discovery. So, I assume that is the last order of business. Is there anything else?” Lennox groaned. “We’ve been here for three hours!”
“These meetings were your idea, brother,” Wilder reminded him. “If you want, we can go back to how things were before—”
“No!” the other four brothers chorused in unison.
“Nice try, megalomaniac, but we’re happy with even distribution,” Owen chimed in. “Lennox is right, though. We’ve dealt with everything on the agenda today. I think he’s got something to take care of.”
Owen, Wilder, and Reef cast Lennox a knowing look, and he rose to his feet, smiling.
“Are you sure about this, Len?” Keppler asked him, not unkindly. “It seems so… fast.”
“It feels right,” Lennox replied confidently. Keppler nodded, his eyes wise.
“Somehow, it feels like she’s been around much longer than a few weeks,” he agreed. “Go get her. And congratulations.”
“Don’t congratulate me yet,” Lennox chuckled. “She hasn’t said yes.”
“She will,” Keppler said, and the rest of his brothers voiced their support. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look at a man the way she looks at you.”
Lennox grinned at them and turned away, marveling at how much everything had changed in such a short time.
One day, he and his brothers seemed to be fighting for power amongst themselves, Wilder monopolizing both the Hollows and Sunside with his domineering ways. For a time, Lennox had been sure his brothers would enact a hostile takeover. But then, out of nowhere, Wilder had presented them with a treaty to keep the peace.
“I worry about the future of the Hollows if we’re always fighting,” he told them, an almost sheepish expression on his face. “We’ve had civil unrest before. I don’t want to invite it again.”
“What are you proposing?” Lennox demanded. A strange sense of familiarity coursed through him, as if they had discussed this matter before.
“A truce,” his brother replied, and so a truce had been brought forth. Wilder no longer took control of all matters in business, and their weekly meetings covered all their concerns and victories.
For the first time in eons, Lennox was beginning to feel like he and his brothers were bonding, even taking to the atrium to have their infamous races, which inevitably left a pillar broken as one of their dragon skulls crashed into it.
Déjà vu seemed to consume Lennox over the past weeks, and not just in the comfort of his family relationship. The feeling he had with Gia was something he had never known before, and yet he felt as if he’d always been with her, like they had existed together in another life.
From the moment he had laid eyes on her at the gala, three weeks earlier, he had known they were fated to be together, and the ring in his breast pocket was going to solidify eternity in another form for them.
Lennox knocked on the door to Gia’s suite, waiting for her to call out, “Come in!”
When he walked through the door, he was greeted warmly.
“You’re done with your meeting!” Gia exclaimed from the vanity, where she was brushing out her dark hair into gleaming strands. “How did it go?”
“No one died,” Lennox chuckled. “How was your day?”
She gestured around the suite with a manicured hand and laughed. “Three weeks ago, I was living in squalor in the Trenches. Now look at me! I’d say my day is going really well.”
Lennox pressed his hands against the bare skin of her shoulders.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “I don’t know how I got through my entire existence without knowing you.”
“Did you?” Gia asked, her tone almost amused.
“I’m not sure,” he replied, gently massaging her shoulders. He leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her neck, and she closed her eyes, humming contentedly. “I was going to wait until dinner to do this, but I feel like we’ve already lost so much time. I know that sounds strange—”
“No,” Gia said, shaking her head. “I know exactly what you mean. What did you want to say?”
Lennox dropped to one knee, and Gia’s eyes widened in shock as he removed the ring box from his pocket, popping open the red velvet container.
“I never want to be without you again, Gia,” he told her. “I can’t get over the feeling that I had you and let you go, and I want you to know that I will never make that mistake again… if you’ll have me.”
Her face twisted into an expression of absolute joy, and she nodded her head.
“I’ll have you,” she promised, her voice wet with emotion and her eyes damp with tears. “Every which way you’ll allow.”
Lennox chuckled, blinking back his own tears. He had never been an emotional being, but things were different with Gia. There was so much she had shown him that he had never known existed.
He pulled the ring out to slide it over her finger, and Gia pressed her lips to his.
“I’m going to take care of you,” Lennox whispered, their mouths still together, their eyes locked and full of love. “For all of eternity.”
She nodded through her tears. “I know you will.”
And he knew she believed it.
Chosen Mate
Hollow Earth Dragons
1
The trees of the park whizzed by, her feet pounding firmly but quickly against the pavement as she moved. Her chest was tight as she focussed on her breathing and on the music piping through her headphones.
Bryn pushed through the excruciating heat, although sweat pooled down her back and against the white of her tank top. The airflow material was intended to give her some reprieve, but on a day like this, when the sun—typically shielded by the San Francisco fog—pierced mercilessly into her, it was not doing its job.
Two more blocks, she promised herself, though she was beginning to think she wasn’t going to make it. Black curls of hair clung to her heart-shaped face, falling just above the base of her neck, and Bryn felt tears of protest stinging her eyes. She still forged through.
She was on a mission, and no desperate need to stop, if only to get a sip of water, would stand in her way.
The Fitbit screamed at her from her wrist, alarmed that she was overdoing it, and Bryn plucked the headphones out of her ears. Perhaps she should consider stopping, even if it was for a second. The machine might be right about pushing herself too hard.
“Lady, you’re going to faint.”
Bryn whipped her head to the side, her crystalline blue eyes widening in surprise at the man who had joined her. She wondered how long he’d been there without her noticing, and it put her on guard. Usually, Bryn was much more cautious about things like that, particularly in a neighborhood where she never jogged.
/> “Doubtful,” she panted, eyeing the stranger through her peripheral vision. Then, to prove her point, she sprung forward with a rush of adrenaline, leaving the man behind her. Feeling relatively smug, she finally allowed herself to pause at the mouth of Glen Canyon Park and leaned forward, her breaths escaping in short, uneven gasps.
That’s enough for one day. It’s going to be a scorcher today, she realized, cocking her head to stare up into the sky. It was still early morning, but the smog was making breathing a luxury. As she moved her head to squint at the sun above her, she saw the same man again, leaning casually against a cork oak. He was examining his nails as if he had been standing there for an hour, waiting for someone.
Bryn smirked, knowing he was putting on a show for her.
“Are you following me?” she asked, straightening herself to her full height of five-foot-nine. Even so, she was barely a shadow against his towering form. She guessed him to be at least six-foot-five, maybe even taller.
“Following you?” the man scoffed. “I’ve been standing here for hours!”
Bryn had to giggle at the theatrics, but she didn’t want to encourage him too much. She knew who he was, after all. Charming or not, he was not someone she wanted to tangle with, especially when the mere sight of him made her blood boil.
Don’t get drawn in by those cobalt eyes and mop of California brown hair, she told herself. He might look like a happy-go-lucky surfer, but he’s just like the rest of them.
Bryn casually wiped the beads of sweat from her hairline, her breathing evening as she did.
“I’ve seen you before,” the man said. “You from around here?”
“Have you?” Bryn purred, slowly stretching her long legs as she skilfully ignored his question. “How lucky for you.”
He howled at her response, his brilliant white teeth flashing against the bark of the tree in a bizarre contrast, but he remained against it, as if the trunk was supporting his lumbering yet agile frame. “What’s your name?”
“My name?” she echoed, a look of confusion crossing her face. “What makes you think I have one?”
If possible, the man’s smile grew even wider, and he nodded appreciatively at her, his eyes traveling conspicuously over her frame.
“Were your parents so cruel?”
The mention of her parents from this man’s mouth was insulting, and Bryn tensed more, willing herself to be calm. This is not the time nor the place, she told herself firmly. Keep it together, Bryn.
When she didn’t bite at his banter, the man held out his hand. “I’m Keppler.”
“Interesting.”
It was becoming difficult for Bryn to remain aloof, despite her best intentions. How could she? It was the first time she had ever been so close to one of the dragon princes, and this one was paying her closer attention than she would have liked. The heat of the sun seemed to magnify the intensity of his dark blue eyes as they burned into her. It was strange that his gaze was so fierce while the rest of him exuded nonchalance.
“Oh, come on,” Keppler teased in a light tone. There was no underlying annoyance in his voice, as some men might show when being toyed with. He seemed genuinely amused by their back-and-forth. Bryn was less so. Of course, he was no regular man, and Bryn knew she had to get as far away from him as soon as she possibly could.
“Come on, what?” she replied, her light eyes darting around for an escape by means of someone she recognized. To her bad luck, there was no one else in the almost abandoned morning park. She found herself wondering what Keppler was doing there and if he had been indeed following her.
The idea filled her with terror, but she chided herself not to be ridiculous. If he had any inkling about who she was, he wouldn’t be standing there, attempting to charm her with his too-white smile.
“Give me a hint,” he insisted. “A first letter.”
If it had been just an average Joe hitting on her so blatantly, Bryn would have had no issue telling him precisely where to go. But Keppler was not. And truthfully, Bryn was enjoying their exchange more than she wanted to admit. It filled her with shame.
What would Jace say if he saw this?
“Nope,” she said, knowing that if he wanted to know her name with any great urgency, it would be nothing for him to learn it. Was he the playboy? It was hard to keep them straight, even after eons. In all fairness, Bryn spent little time on that side of the Hollows and even less keeping up with the gossip rags.
“You’re going to make me work for it, huh?”
“I wouldn’t make you work for anything,” Bryn quipped lightly. “That’s not what your family does, is it?”
A shadow crossed over Keppler’s face for the first time, and Bryn realized she’d just pushed a button. He stared at her more closely, as if recognizing she was more than some mortal jogger with a cute rear-end. Could he sense who she was now that she had unwittingly given him a clue?
“Have I offended you in some way?” Keppler asked slowly, finally shoving his muscled form away from the tree, but he didn’t advance. His eyes seemed to have iced over, and Bryn grinned at him.
“How could you have?” she replied. “I don’t know you, remember?”
The enigmatic response seemed to trouble him, but to his credit, Keppler didn’t press the issue.
“Have a nice day,” he managed, turning to leave her. He was gone before Bryn could offer him a sarcastic response.
As he vanished into the treeline, Bryn exhaled. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath, but her lungs expanded, apparently grateful, and she spun to bolt from the park. She knew she would have to lay low from the Hollows for a while, just in case the dragon prince came looking for her.
Not that he would ever find me, she thought smugly. I’m just that good at hiding. She looped up on Diamond Heights Boulevard toward Portola Drive before slowing again, pausing before a condo.
Out of habit, Bryn glanced around to ensure that no one was watching before sprinting across the street to rap on the garage door. One short knock, two long ones, and a pause. One more tap. It was Damon’s special code, and while Bryn thought it was silly when the garage door was so blatantly out in the open, she didn’t want to antagonize the man. He was quirky, but he was useful. In all honesty, Bryn found him endearing, even though that was not something she advertised. Showing her emotions was not something Bryn Castillo did well.
The door lifted a moment later, and she ducked in before it had the chance to rise fully, relishing the coolness of the dim room on her burning face.
“You’re late.”
Bryn barely cast Damon a look, watching as he paranoidly shut the door again, his beady dark eyes scanning the sun-splashed streets beyond.
“I got interrupted,” she said nonchalantly, plopping down onto the worn corduroy loveseat near the beer fridge, which was never filled with anything alcoholic. The others sometimes joked that Damon kept body parts in there when he knew they weren’t coming over for a meeting. Bryn theorized it was possible; not so much because she thought Damon was psychotic, but because she knew he was eccentric.
Alma and Chester nodded at her, Chester’s eyes wracking over her body like he had never seen a woman in yoga pants before.
“By whom? Was it the cops?” Damon demanded, his face flushing with worry. “What did they say? Do they suspect anything?”
Bryn grunted in exasperation, unable to shake the experience with Keppler from her mind. Normally, she would not have been so short with Damon, but now she couldn’t help herself.
“Really?” she snapped. “You think I got stopped by the cops, Damon? Come on!”
It was a pain in the ass working with Damon Lindstead, his schizophrenia oftentimes overruling his sense of reason. He was medicated, though sometimes Bryn wondered if he skipped days. She tried to ensure he did not, but she couldn’t be everywhere at once.
It didn’t change the fact that Damon’s mind was brilliant, even if he wasn’t entirely coherent all the time. It was on
ly a matter of separating the fiction from reality sometimes, that was all.
“You’re not actually late,” Alma commented. Bryn snorted.
“I don’t care,” she answered truthfully, turning her attention to their headquarters. “What have we got?” Chester licked his lips, and even though her eyes were fixed on the bulletin board ahead, Bryn could still feel him staring at her.
Amelia thinks Damon is weird, she thought, when it’s Chester who’s getting creepy. He’s stalker material for sure. I’ll see about having him replaced.
Chester was the least important of their group. Muscle was easy to come by, and that was all Chester supplied. Although Bryn could easily do his job, she dared not voice her irritation aloud, bitterly swallowing her words.
“Hollyfield.”
Bryn’s eyes widened with interested concern. Uh-oh. This again. Am I ready for it?
“Hollyfield,” she repeated, the paperwork pinned before her suddenly making sense as she rose to study it with more scrutiny. “Haven’t we crossed this off our list before?”
“Things have changed,” Alma explained. “I’ll walk you through it.”
Alma was a tech genius and hacker from a time before computers even existed as commonplace. She was almost forty-five, though anyone who guessed that would have to possess immortal talents. Her blonde hair did not depict a single silver strand, and her pale face remained wrinkle-free. Bryn was certain she shared her DNA with some sort of sprite, but Alma probably didn’t know that.
“Later,” Bryn said, waving her hand dismissively. “Show me the layout.”
Damon looked at her worriedly. “What do you mean? You know the layout! You’ve seen it! It was your idea—”
“Damon, you need to calm down,” Bryn told him calmly. “I just want to go over it again. To be cautious, okay?”
He seemed to like that answer. His paranoia demanded a certain amount of caution.
“Okay,” he agreed, a renowned flash of interest filling his eyes as he hurried closer to gesture at his handiwork. “This is how it works.”
