by Anne Malcom
Thorne’s hands tightened around me as he sensed my complete and overarching sorrow.
“I would’ve been all about murdering him before,” I continued on a rasp. “When Sophie was in front of me and she’d glare at me, threaten to tear me apart and steal all my shoes while my limbs grew back and I was helpless. I almost did kill him, when he hurt Sophie, when she was nurturing heartbreak not unlike the thing I’d experienced.”
My vision blurred as my sorrow started to leak out of the chains I’d wrapped around it in order to do things like walk and talk. “But I can’t kill him now, because Sophie isn’t here.” My voice began to crack. Crimson dripped from my face to the floor of the elevator. “She’s not going to threaten me again, not going to tease me about how very much in love I am with my Buffy anymore. She won’t be the only person who had my back and knew me before anyone else—including myself—did. She won’t be that person because she isn’t a fucking person anymore, Thorne,” I yelled, and then my legs gave out from under me as my sorrow completely ripped free of its chains.
Thorne caught me, yanked me into his firm chest, wrapping his arms around me as if he knew I needed them to hold myself together. He laid his lips on my head and said nothing.
Mostly because there was nothing left to say.
No more words.
Sophie couldn’t hear them anymore.
But I’d make sure the screams of our enemies—those responsible for her death—would be so loud and visceral that she’d hear them from the underworld.
Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
“You scared me,” Thorne rasped into the darkness that was 3:00 a.m.
I glanced up from where my head was resting against his chest. “What? With that move I just invented? From what I could tell, it didn’t scare you like at all,” I purred, my body tingling from the mere reminder of it.
Thorne’s grin melted out of the darkness as his hands tightened around me. I trailed my naked hand along the hair of his chest. It was my right hand, my left hand weighed down with the black diamond that Scott, of all people, had scoured the castle in Romania for at some point during the battle.
The other ring, the one that was supposed to stop me getting pregnant, was nowhere to be found.
There was no question about whether we would’ve been able to hold off from joining together after the harrowing month we’d had. No way we could do it.
And we obviously hadn’t.
Neither of us had mentioned the absence of the ring and the presence of my heartbeat and what that meant. I was back to the old Isla in a lot of respects, including ignoring big and flashing problems like the prospect of pregnancy.
“No, baby,” he murmured, his mouth brushing against my forehead. “You scared me when you came back.”
“I thought my absence would’ve been slightly scarier than my return, though I’ll admit my hair was pretty terrifying,” I replied, my light tone forced.
“No, babe. There isn’t a word for what I was when you were gone,” he rasped. “There isn’t a fucking description invented to explain that sort of fucking desperation. I hope there never is one, because then another fucking being would have to go through that hell. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” He shuddered.
The pause that yawned over the darkness was enough to yank his despair from the past and mingle it with the despair that blanketed the present.
“No,” he said, breaking through the iron of our sorrow. “When you came back a shell, a silent one, a broken one. Your presence is so fucking intoxicating, so all-encompassing, that I’d never imagined having you right in front of me and not feeling intoxicated from you.” He lifted me so our eyes met in the darkness. “And those silent days, they were like being in the fucking grave. I had you with me, and I’d take you however you came, but fuck if it wasn’t the scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed to see the most alive being I know walk around like a corpse.” He searched my eyes. “Like your soul had withered and died.”
“I don’t have a soul, remember? Vampire here,” I sighed, into the blackness. “I feel like we’ve gone over this, like a lot.”
His hand clutched my chin so I couldn’t look away. “No, we haven’t gone over it enough if that’s still, after everything, what you believe,” he growled. “A soul is something you have, not something you are.”
His words jerked at me, tugged at that broken thing inside me that I was arguing didn’t exist. I still clung to denial. “I’m a monster, remember?”
“And what does that have to do with your soul?” The fingers tightened.
“Um, everything?”
“I disagree.”
And before we could fight some more, a heartbeat interrupted us. So shocking, the vibration of it all, that I’d have hit the roof if not for Thorne’s hands on me.
And they had frozen too, because he’d heard that hummingbird flutter.
Not coming from my chest.
Coming from my fucking stomach.
My obviously fertile-as-shit ovaries, to be exact.
And so it continues…
Buried Destiny
The Vein Chronicles Book Four
Sophie
They had buried her.
That much became apparent when Sophie slammed the heel of her palm against the top of the coffin and it didn’t give, like at all.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
Then her hand went to the skin of her neck, the image of unrestrained agony coming with the slicing of her flesh. Not her own, though it had hurt a little.
No.
Isla’s.
Conall’s.
Her hand paused at the smooth and healed skin.
Her wolf.
She started to scratch at the top of the coffin, calling up the power that had brought her back from the grave—as it had many times before—to take her back to her wolf.
To take her back to her world.
Which hopefully hadn’t ended in however long she’d been dead for.
Acknowledgments
I am lucky enough to have some amazing people in my life who encourage me and put up with my crazy when I’m writing. And my crazy when I’m not writing too.
Mum. You’ve always been my biggest cheerleader, my best friend and my sometimes therapist. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t know the magic of reading and I wouldn’t be able to write a word. Thank you for telling me I could be anything I wanted to be. I’d never be who I am today if it wasn’t for you.
My Dad. You’re not here with us but you’re the reason why I can shoot a gun, ride a motorbike, shop like a champ, and believe in myself. I miss you every day.
Michelle, Caro and Annette. You ladies are so very special and your generosity and support is amazing. I’m so lucky I have you. You have the biggest hearts I’ve ever encountered. Book babes for life.
Jessica Gadziala. My #sisterqueen. You’ve cheered me on when I didn’t believe in myself and given me a friendship that is all about straightening crowns.
Jay Aheer. My amazing cover designer who works her absolute butt off to create the amazing artwork on the front of my books.
Kristin & the team at Hot Tree Editing. Thank you so much, ladies, for making this book make sense. You are awesome.
This book wouldn’t be what it is without my wonderful team of betas. These special ladies helped to make this book what it is. Ginny, Amy, Sarah, and Annette you are wonderful.
Harriet, Polly and Emma. My girls. The ones who talk me down when I’m getting crazy, or bring a bottle of wine and get crazy with me. True friendships are rare in this world, but I’ve got it with you ladies.
And to you, the reader. Thank you. Thank you for reading my books. Thank you for taking a chance on something different from me. Thanks for every e-mail, comment, and review you give me. I treasure each and every one.
About the Author
Anne Malcom has been an avid reader since before she can remember, her mother responsible for her book addiction. It s
tarted with magical journeys into the world of Hogwarts and Middle Earth, then as she grew up her reading tastes grew with her. Her obsession with books and romance novels in particular gave Anne the opportunity to find another passion, writing. Finding writing about alpha males and happily ever afters more fun than reading about them, Anne is not about to stop any time soon.
Raised in small town New Zealand, Anne had a truly special childhood, growing up in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. She has backpacked across Europe, ridden camels in the Sahara, eaten her way through Italy, and had all sorts of crazy adventures. For now, she's back at home in New Zealand and quite happy. But who knows when the travel bug will bite her again.
If you want to chat to some awesome book babes, please join Anne’s reader group, she’d love to have you.
Also by Anne Malcom
The Vein Chronicles
Fatal Harmony
Deathless
Faults in Fate
The Sons of Templar MC
Making the Cut
Firestorm
Outside the Lines
Out of the Ashes
Beyond the Horizon
Dauntless
Unquiet Mind
Echoes of Silence
Skeletons of Us
Broken Shelves
Greenstone Security
Still Waters
Shield
A Dark Standalone…
Birds of Paradise
