She touched the spot that seemed to twinge under his intense stare. But the skin was smooth. Unblemished.
“How?” she asked.
“How is your ankle healed?” he answered. “Your magic, now that it’s unbound, works to heal you whenever you’re injured.”
She let her hand drop as she got to her feet. Pushing past the two men, she called over her shoulder, “I don’t appreciate you taking my blood without my consent.”
Prodepheus chuckled softly and murmured something to Arian that she couldn’t hear, although the brute’s grunt of assent made her smile to herself.
When she entered the kitchen, she stopped short, finding a woman about the same age as her scrambling eggs in a pan. Her hair shimmered like actual strands of gold. It was long and perfectly wavy, not a single hair out of place. She turned to find Harlow gawking at her, and she smiled, a flash of dazzling white. The girl’s eyes were almost a violet color, her porcelain skin flawless.
“Oh, hello, dear. Take a seat and dig in. You must be starving.” Her voice was accented and musical. She gestured to the table where Kaimon already sat, a stack of pancakes on the plate before him. He froze with his fork halfway to his open mouth. Beside him sat Josirus, whose pale eyes narrowed to slits upon Harlow’s entrance.
“Ms. Marks, this is Olivia, Josirus’s sister,” Arian spoke from behind her.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at his close proximity. Olivia smiled and dipped into a graceful curtsy. Well, whatever reason Josirus had for hating Harlow, it obviously didn’t apply to Olivia.
Harlow managed a small smile. Before she made any move toward the table, Josirus stood abruptly, his strong legs knocking into the hard wood. All eyes slid to him as his palpable hatred oozed from every pore, circulating through the room like a noxious gas. Arian stiffened at Harlow’s back and the heat pouring from him became unbearable. She stepped away from him, further into the kitchen.
Without a word, Josirus stormed past them and several seconds later, Harlow heard the front door slam shut. She turned to stare after him with a mixture of anger and confusion, and caught sight of Arian and Prodepheus having a wordless conversation. Prody gave only a minute tip of his head before heading after Josirus.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Olivia trilled with a bright smile. Her accent was decidedly French. “He’s always a curmudgeon around new people.”
Harlow stared at the woman in silent awe. How she and her brother could be so starkly different in every way was a mystery.
Arian’s hand rested on Harlow’s lower back, jolting her as he always did with his touch, before he gently pushed her toward the table. She swallowed hard as she took a seat across from Kaimon. Arian moved to sit beside her and Kaimon shot her a wink before digging into his pancakes once more.
Plates and pans of eggs, bacon, muffins, pancakes and toast covered the table. Hesitantly, Harlow reached for one of the mammoth blueberry muffins that was still warm and fragrant before setting it on her now-full plate.
She faced Arian, dumbstruck. When had he piled so much in front of her and how had she not noticed? He studied the food on his own plate, though his lips twitched as he suppressed his amusement. Kaimon chuckled and even Olivia laughed softly. Harlow scowled, but didn’t protest as she dug in.
Her first bite made her eyes roll back in her head, and she groaned. Kaimon looked from her to Arian, who went still.
Harlow’s cheeks warmed. “Sorry,” she mumbled through a mouthful of moist, flavorful muffin.
“Don’t apologize,” Arian said so low, she nearly missed it.
Her brows creased, but she continued eating without another embarrassing outburst. Olivia joined them, though she opted for just a muffin and a cup of coffee. Harlow didn’t fail to notice the way Kaimon tracked Olivia’s movements carefully. Intently.
After polishing off the last of her pancakes and her third cup of coffee, Harlow realized that all three of them watched her.
“What? You’ve never seen a girl eat before?” She sat back and patted her full, happy belly with a sigh of contentment.
Kaimon snorted a laugh. “I don’t think there’s ever been a woman to eat that much without getting sick.”
Arian shot him a dark look, but Kaimon ignored it.
Harlow shrugged. “Well I haven’t eaten a proper meal in almost a day.”
Olivia smiled brightly at her. “It is good for a woman to eat. Life is too short to be wasted on eating dainty, tasteless salad.”
Harlow smiled back, suddenly feeling warmer toward the woman. She looked around, half expecting more people to join them. “Where’s Elentis?” she asked.
Kaimon gestured over his shoulder, out the window. “Got an early start.”
As if taking that as their cue, both he and Olivia stood. Harlow rose to her feet too, followed closely by Arian.
“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Harlow,” Olivia said, grabbing her by the shoulders and pecking a kiss to both of her cheeks. “I’ll see you later, I’m sure.” She winked as she sashayed from the room.
Kaimon trailed after her, leaving Harlow and Arian alone.
Wringing her hands together, she blew out a long breath as a sudden apprehension settled heavily on her.
Arian finally met her gaze. “I didn’t want to risk Rasimus returning to you the way he did last night. You were already fast asleep when I sought to cast the protection spell.” His gaze captured hers and held it. “I won’t take your blood again without your permission unless it is a matter of life and death.”
Harlow nodded slowly. “Thank you.” The rest of her words were caught in her throat. She wanted to thank him for casting the spell so that she couldn’t be violated in that way again, but she couldn’t get the words out.
If she wasn’t a prisoner in Arian’s house, that never would have happened.
If she wasn’t his mate, that never would have happened.
Arian bowed his head, content for her not to offer any more on the subject. “Can I give you a tour of the house?” he asked.
“Well I’m well acquainted with the basement, so no need to show me that. Or your room, I’ve seen plenty of that. What else is there to see?” Her voice had more bite than she’d intended, but she didn’t care.
Arian’s eyes simply glittered with humor. It was clear he enjoyed her bite. He gestured her out of the kitchen, and she led the way, feeling his heat at her back and his eyes on her.
They didn’t linger in the sitting room, and Arian showed her around the mansion of a house, starting with the moderately sized movie theater. Pausing to smile at the plush red velvet settees and armchairs, she turned toward Arian. His handsome face was heavily shadowed.
“I saw a bunch of VHS tapes in the basement. CDs too.”
Arian didn’t meet her gaze as he said, “Living nearly a hundred lifetimes leaves you with the unique opportunity to learn new things. To absorb all the information around you. It also leaves you with an unfulfillable loneliness.” His eyes shifted to hers. The dull lighting seemed to highlight the haunted look in them. “I’ve eaten at all the best restaurants your world has. I’ve seen nearly every film starting with the very first black-and-white movie. I’ve heard more music than most could ever sample in a dozen lifetimes.”
Harlow held completely still, her lungs refusing air as Arian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“For many, many years, there has been nothing on this Earth or any other in existence that has been truly worth living for.”
“And now?” she asked, finally sucking in a soft breath.
Arian’s expression shuttered. His hand dropped to his side as he turned to leave. “Now there is only pain.”
Harlow released her breath as a flicker of hurt bloomed in her chest. “Wait,” she called after him. “Tell me why!”
He strode through the hall and into the next room, which was a full gym. Harlow ignored it, jogging so as to put h
erself in front of Arian, forcing him to look at her. She folded her arms over her chest. “Is it because of me?” she demanded.
Arian sighed. “As I’ve said before, I’ve done many reproachable things, some I’d even call evil.”
Harlow’s chin lifted. “Yes, murder is awful, but is that really the reason you want to die?”
Arian’s lips thinned. “Who said I want to die?”
She rolled her eyes. “’There is only pain’ sounds pretty close to suicidal to me.”
Though she hadn’t intended to be humorous, Arian’s lips tugged up in a faint smile. “I assure you, were there a way to put an end to immortality, I’d have done it by now.”
As soon as he spoke the words, his smile vanished. Then he simply glanced in her direction before spinning on his heel and heading back through the door. She hurried after him with a dramatic huff. Seriously, this guy is so moody.
Instead of entering the room adjacent to the gym, Arian stood outside it with his hand on the doorknob. Waiting.
“As well as your bedroom, this room is also for you. However, it will remain unspelled unless you wish otherwise.”
Harlow’s brow furrowed. “Okay? I have two rooms?”
She just barely caught a flash of his smile before he swung the door open.
Then she gasped.
They entered a room stacked floor-to-ceiling with shelves of blank canvases in every size imaginable. Other shelves were filled with paints and every brush likely ever created.
An easel stood proud near one of the windows, offering a view of the meadow, rippling in the spring breeze. Already a blank canvas sat atop it. A new palette sat on the table beside the easel, along with jars for cleaning the brushes, and brand-new towels stacked behind.
Harlow walked around the room in a trance. It was an artist’s perfect escape. The room was filled with thousands of dollars’ worth of supplies. She spun around, trying to capture every detail, every carefully placed element. Her eyes welled with tears.
When she stopped, Arian was watching her intently.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, a line creased between his brows.
She shook her head, smiling. “This is really wonderful. Thank you.”
His gaze grew in intensity. “I meant what I said. I hope you’ll be comfortable and happy here.”
Harlow let out a long breath. His words had once again brought to light the fact that she’d probably never see Paris or London. She’d never see her sister again. Nor her friends.
But she could read every ounce of remorse in his eyes. In the way his shoulders rounded slightly. A man that never presented himself as anything but a king felt the weight of her loss, so he’d tried to create something that would make the rest of her life in confinement a little less dull.
Folding her arms over her aching chest, she started for the door. “I think I’m going to go lie down.”
Arian’s voice halted her in the doorway. “I’d like to make you dinner tonight.”
She turned to look over her shoulder. Wordlessly, she nodded. Arian didn’t pursue her when she headed back, and for that she was grateful. Her morose thoughts followed her like a tiny storm cloud hovering above her head.
When she at last collapsed onto the queen-sized bed that was now “hers,” she buried her face into the too-soft pillows.
And she allowed herself to grieve.
For the life she’d never have.
For the love she’d never get to experience.
She wept.
Arian
Butter sizzled in the pan as Arian finished roughly chopping the vegetables. His jaw twitched when Josirus huffed beside him.
“You can’t befriend the woman your beast is Marked to. It’s unheard of.”
“There really haven’t been that many people to try under similar circumstances.”
Josirus’s teeth ground together. “Were we all not under strict orders that if any of us were to complete the Mark, our mate would die? Was that not incentive enough to keep them safe?”
With the knife, Arian slid the vegetables into the hot pan. The popping of butter gave him long enough to choose his next words.
“Perhaps. Though since I am the one that had to end my brother’s source of happiness—had to witness him grieving for centuries and watch as he turned to madness—it stands to reason that I comprehend what’s at stake here. Even Prody, who watched his mate marry another, bear his children, grow old, and die, has suffered. And he never completed the Mark. I will be forced to do the same. And I’ll bear it just like he has.”
Silence.
Josirus’s next words were softer. Pained. “And who will be the one to tear out her throat should the challenge prove too much?”
His muscles jumped at the spoken threat—already enough proof that Josirus’s concern was not unfounded.
Arian’s clan-mate laid a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Would it not be kinder, to yourself and to your mate, to end things now? She won’t have to suffer—”
Arian exploded. Josirus’s back slammed into the opposite wall, the tip of the knife pressed into his throat.
“Do not think to harm one hair on my mate’s head.”
Josirus’s lips pressed into a thin white line as a bead of crimson welled around the narrow bit of steel. As slowly as their breaths came, the blood tracked down his throat. Yet Arian felt no remorse. Only the clawing, raging wrath of his beast.
The need to protect his Marked.
“If you utter a single word against her again, I’ll drop you into a block of concrete and sink it in the bottom of the Harbijeer on the first day of Lunvet.” The Harbijeer. Also known as the blood ocean that lapped the shores of Scondelade. In Lunvet—the winter season—the ocean froze over.
The realization of being trapped in the depths of the Harbijeer made Josirus’s jaw harden. As an immortal, he’d be forced to drown repeatedly until he could free himself. Yet still, anger sparked in his abnormally pale eyes. “Understood.”
Arian stepped back, taking with him, the blade.
“Aw, did I miss the ass-kicking?” Prody asked from the doorway, grinning. Leaning against one side, with one foot crossed over the other, he sliced a chunk of flesh from a bright green apple and popped it into his mouth.
Josirus rolled his eyes before storming past Prodepheus. Though Arian had seen it a million times, the contrast of Josirus’s pale complexion beside Prody’s olive skin and long dark hair was almost jarring.
The front door slammed shut a moment later.
With a sigh, Arian went back to his pan of nearly burnt vegetables, stirring them before crouching to check the casserole dish in the oven.
“Aren’t you the perfect picture of domesticity,” Prodepheus teased as he carved another slice of apple.
Arian grunted noncommittally. He placed a lid over the vegetables to retain their heat as he switched off the burner, then straightened his tie for the fifth time in an hour.
Finally he glanced at his brother, finding not the reproachful look he expected to see, but something like sadness.
Arian straightened. “This must be…difficult for you,” he said with as much feeling as he could manage.
For a moment, his brother said nothing. Then, “Isn’t it ironic that the one thing that could give our miserable immortal lives meaning is the one thing we cannot have?”
“You know why we cannot claim our mates.”
“Because they are mortal, and giving them immortality is against everything we’ve been working toward.” His tone was flat. As empty as his eyes.
“Females don’t survive the transformation, you know that.” Arian cleared his throat, pushing back the lump that had risen. “Alexandra did not.” Alexandra had been Xalicur’s Marked. They’d completed the Mark several centuries after Arian had killed Oricus’s Marked.
Prodepheus chucked the apple into the waste bin behind Arian before twirling the blade betwe
en his fingers. “Olivia survived.”
Arian nodded. “She was the first.”
“Others might.”
Tilting his head to the side, Arian strode toward his brother. “And are the decades or more of agony and bloodlust worth it? Would you have preferred to watch your mate suffer in that way for that long? Could you truly have forced her into this cursed existence? Many do not truly understand that forever is forever. Even when this world ceases to exist, we will remain.”
Prody’s eyes shone, dark and void of his usual humor. “In another five hundred or so years another human will be born with the power to destroy us.” He leaned forward in Arian’s space, switching to their native tongue as he said, “T’uvr chyt vve jirf d’ryh fet trusouch ker vie vvel jula?” What would you give to have five hundred years with your mate?
With that, he turned on his heel and strode out.
Arian swallowed thickly.
What would he give to have five hundred years with Harlow?
But even if she agreed and managed to survive the transformation, it wasn’t fair to his brothers. To those whose mates were taken from them.
By old age, or by Arian himself.
He mentally shook himself and ran a hand through his hair before heading outside to double-check the setting for their evening.
Everything was in order. Arian glanced down at the time on his phone yet again. He had less than ten minutes before Harlow met him out there.
The sun was already dipping behind the forest. Though he’d seen many awe-inspiring sunsets, the painted horizon was one he hoped he’d remember for many years.
A small square table sat on the wooden porch, covered with a cream tablecloth. Twin wooden chairs stood on either side of the setting; cutlery meticulously placed. And in the center of the table a small candle was lit. Its flame danced in the gentle breeze.
A folded blanket hung over the chair that would be Harlow’s. Though Arian was unaffected by the cool air, his mortal mate would feel it keenly—a detail one of the servants had pointed out when he’d insisted on having their dinner be set outside.
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