by Jasmine Walt
“Okay, how did our story begin?”
Tres leaned down and touched his lips to mine. Those hard lips were surprisingly soft. No, not surprisingly. I knew they were soft. I knew the texture of his bottom lip. Knew the shape of the divot in his top lip. I’d tasted his breath before. I saw all the memories huddled together in a balloon at the back of my mind. They were expanding, ready to burst. But then, he pulled away.
“If you want to know the rest,” he said, “give me a call. I know you have my number. You’ve given it out to enough tree-hugging protestors.”
And, with that, he swaggered down the hall and out of my life. For the time being.
28
The scenery along the roads in the south of France was beautiful this time of year, an artist’s dreamscape of pastels. I pushed the pedal to the metal on the tiny sports car as I zoomed down the winding streets. I pulled up to the villa as the sun reached up to its high point in the afternoon.
Zane didn’t stir when I came inside the unlocked door. He sat near the window before a canvas, his paints spread out before him. I watched him work in silence for a few minutes.
He was shirtless, how he often preferred to paint. There were smatters of the primaries across his toned chest. I watched his muscles flex and relax as he worked, just as I had done for five hundred years. The sight of his talent in motion still made my breath catch. I watched his fingers map out the details of my features just like he would do when he touched my body to bring it to a climax.
And still, my mind could not rationalize that the man I loved was the monster of my dreams. That he was the vengeful warrior who had brought death in that cave a couple of weeks ago and a couple of millennia ago.
“Zane?”
“Oui, mon coeur?” His voice was a soft caress, so familiar. I felt my body sigh at the sound of it. The warmth I’d been searching for, the jolt of energy, returned to my limbs.
He didn’t turn to face me. His lip was raised in that perpetual tilt of amusement. But his eyes held sorrow.
“Did you break my heart?” I asked. “Is that why I went to China to be with Vau and Epsilon when…?” I still couldn’t complete the sentence. It still did not seem possible that they were dead.
Zane put the brush down and turned to me. His hooded gaze narrowed. His long lashes shielded his eyes as he turned my words over in his head. When his eyes met mine, confusion shone through.
“Broke your heart?” he asked.
“Did we break up or something?”
He cocked his head and studied me from a different angle. I was used to him doing this, but not with bafflement coloring his gaze. “I have never left you … not once in all of our existence.”
His gaze skated over my body, but this time, his eyes lingered on the spot where the blade had penetrated my gut. I could tell he itched to see evidence that I’d healed. I crossed my arms over my belly and rose my chin in defiance.
“But you came after me?”
“Oui.” He nodded. “It’s a good thing that I am obsessed with you.” He smiled as he said the words, taking away most of the creep factor. “Both this time and two thousand years ago. Otherwise…”
His smile faltered, and he turned back to his painting. He picked up his brush and began adding detail to my hair. I watched him in silence for a moment, not sure what to do. Any other time, I’d be in his arms or wrapped around his torso.
“Ask me what you want to know, Nova.”
“Because now you’ll tell me everything?” I took a step closer to him, glaring at the marking on his back. “Even though you’ve known all this time.”
“Now you are asking. Before you did not. You were trying to forget what happened. Why would I bring it up?”
I wanted to rail against his calm logic, if only to avoid asking the question that haunted me. But despite all the confusion and secrets between us, Zane still knew me well.
“You want to know if I killed them all back then?” he said, giving voice to my nightmare. “The men, the women … and the children?”
His voice was so calm as he painted fine strokes. He turned to me when I didn’t answer. His eyes darkened. Suddenly, I didn’t want to hear any more. I wanted my Zane back. My gentle artist who never raised his voice, much less his fist.
He was right; I had wanted to forget. I had wanted to live in the fantasies he painted.
“I see that you remember the answer,” he said. “I will go to any length to keep you safe, mon coeur. And if you doubt I would do so again, I believe it will take you another two millennia before you forget the most recent bloodbath. I’m only sorry that my arrow missed that maniac Xu’s heart.”
“Stop,” I pleaded. I felt my body rocking back and forth. “This is not who you are. You are not some vengeful god.”
“Who told you that? Tres?” Zane laughed, but he wasn’t amused. “We are complicated beings, Nova. None of us are exactly who we appear to be.”
“But you and I, we tell each other everything,” I protested.
“No.” He shook his head. “No, we don’t. We tell each other the best things. What casts us in a favorable light. It has always been that way between us.”
Now I wondered what else I didn’t know about this man I’d loved for five hundred years. No. For longer than that, except I couldn’t remember. Why had I forgotten? Was he not important enough for me to hold onto? Or did something happen that made me want to forget?
“There’s something dark in all of us,” Zane said. “But when I’m with you, when I think of you, all I see is light. I understand if what you feel for me right now is hatred. But, like I said, you are my True North, you are the idol on my altar, and I will worship you until I meet my end.”
I felt the skin bunching around my eyes as I squinted at him, trying to find my Zane. “You can say pretty words, but they still don’t change the fact that you lied to me.”
“Do you wish me to tell you everything, ma petite?” He set the brush aside again and turned to face me. Putting his hands in his lap, he raised his head like an obedient student. “Ask, and I will tell you whatever you desire to know.”
It sounded like a threat. I shut my mouth and stepped back. He hung his head in defeat, as though he knew there was no other outcome than my walking away from him. It pissed me off.
“Are you just gonna sit there?” I demanded as I stormed up to him. “You’re not going to fight for me?”
His head jerked up, and he glared. A spark lit his eyes, like when he’d seen the scar on my cheek. “I fight for you every day,” he said as he rose from his perch. “I remember every day with you. All of them, for centuries and millennia. I remember every detail, every second since the very first time I saw you.”
“You do?” And, with that, I deflated. I wasn’t sure if it was from the pretty words aimed at my heart, or if it was from my curiosity aimed at my head. For someone who studied history, finding a living specimen of record was a watershed.
Zane deflated, too. But his chuckle was more sad than amused. “I know you better than you know yourself. I know you’ll forgive me one day. It could be a year from now, or it could be a century. It could be more.” He shrugged as he turned and walked away from me. He went to stand at the window and looked out at the pastoral countryside. “I am a patient man. I’ve watched civilizations rise and fall while I’ve waited for you to return to me. And during each of those times, while I remembered every bow you’ve worn in your hair, every smile you cast my way, every word you’ve said to me, you forget me again and again.”
The desolation in his face broke something inside of me. I’d never seen Zane in despair. Annoyed—yes. Angry—check. Sad—yeah. But never defeated. I didn’t like it.
It felt like he was being ripped from me even though he was standing right before me. It terrified me. I had him in my arms in two steps. But somehow, I wound up wrapped up tight in his embrace.
He buried his face in my neck, inhaling my scent. I pressed my cheek against the side of
his head, getting lost in the curls of his hair. His body pressed against mine was so familiar, so right—even now, when I wasn’t sure who this man was.
“Don’t ask me to say I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t ever apologize for saving your life.”
I didn’t. I wanted to live.
“Stay with me,” he said. “We can stay here. I’ll buy this place. Or we can live on your island.”
I pulled away. “You know about my island?”
He brushed his thumb across my cheekbone. “I know just about everything about you, Nova. More than you know yourself.”
I stepped out of his embrace. He let me go, curling his hands into fists at his side. The cold and heaviness instantly returned to my limbs.
“How many times have we done this?” I asked. “Broken up and gotten back together?”
He took a breath, and when he answered me, I wished he hadn’t. “Eight.”
“Eight times?”
He nodded. “Since the beginning.”
“The beginning? The beginning. You remember the beginning?”
He shook his head. “I remember the first time I saw you. That was my beginning.”
Taking another step back, I sucked down a deep breath. I stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Tell me.”
“No,” he said with a small grin as he shook his head slowly.
I huffed and put my hands on my hips. “You said you would tell me anything I wanted to know.”
He nodded, quirking an eyebrow. “And I will, in time. I’m smart enough to know that what I have in my possession is a carrot. And I know when to dangle it to get what I want.”
I sucked my teeth and glared at him. But I had to admit, he truly knew me well.
“I don’t want you to run again,” he said, “like you always do. I want you to stay and talk to me. I want to work it out. We could go to couple’s counseling, even. However long it takes, even if we become as weak as humans, I don’t care. Just don’t leave me.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Just a month ago, I would’ve jumped at the chance to spend an eternity with this man, even if it killed me. But I looked at him now, and I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know who I was.
Zane closed his eyes, as though he saw the verdict written across my face. He pulled me to him gently, not forcefully. He didn’t kiss me. He rested his cheek against mine. I closed my eyes and breathed in the familiarity of him. He called me his True North, but the compass inside me was going haywire.
He whispered in my ear, “Amen.”
When I opened my eyes, he was gone.
29
All the fatigue was gone from my body. But I still couldn’t get out of bed. My heart was a lead anchor drowning in thick, black sorrow. Even though the sun shone brightly through the window, I couldn’t see the light of day.
Zane had left the villa two days ago. When I’d opened my eyes, the darkness had moved in. I spent my days in the bed, eyes shut, as I tried to call forth a past that continually slipped through my fingers.
The problem was with my hands, not the memories. The memories were all there, waiting for me to reach out and grab for them. It was my hands that were slippery. Whenever I tried to grab onto a memory, I couldn’t hold on. I wondered if I actually wanted to know every detail of my past.
I sat up in the bed when I heard the front door click open and then shut softly. My heart raced as I sat still. I cleared my throat, preparing for the tickle. Did I hope it was Zane or Tres?
I didn’t know. I just knew I was tired of being alone and wanted someone, anyone else, to focus on. I didn’t cough. My throat remained clear.
A blonde head poked into the doorway before jerking back. “Damn, girl. For someone your age … you look awful.”
I closed my eyes, but my mouth opened and let out a laugh. My whole body was shaking with mirth by the time Loren plopped down on the bed. Something cold landed in my lap. When I opened my eyes, a spoon was held in front of my face.
“The cure for any bad breakup,” she said, plopping open the tub of pomegranate ice cream. I took the proffered spoon and dug in.
“How’d you know I was here?” I asked around the spoon in my mouth. The velvety ice cream was heaven as it melted on my taste buds.
“Your ex.” She shoved her own spoon into the tub and pulled out a heaping spoonful of ice cream.
“Which one?” I asked.
She smirked and shook her spoon at me like I was a naughty child and she was the all-knowing parent. “I knew there was something going on between you and Tres. I knew it.”
“You may have known it, but I didn’t.”
Loren dug in the tub for another helping. “There are a lot of guys I want to forget. In fact, there are some that I have forgotten.”
“Did he send you?”
Loren shoved the ice cream in her mouth, and I had to wait another minute for a confirmation. “It was Zane,” she said.
I nodded slowly, scraping at the sides of the tub, scooping up the ice cream bit by bit. “Are you here to convince me to go back to him?”
“I told you in Beijing, I’m Team Tres. Broody Billionaire all the way.”
“He threatened to discredit your father’s work in those caves, remember?”
Loren shrugged. “He wouldn’t be the first. But, at the end of the day, I’m on your side. For whatever you need. We can go and key one of Tres’s planes. Or we can mix up Fine Frenchy’s primary colors in his paint cans. Just say the word.”
I chuckled as I stuck my spoon in the tub of ice cream and pulled out a heaping scoop, looking up at Loren before I put the bite in my mouth. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she stared at me. Even though her eyes were blue, the look in them reminded me of someone.
“Vau was my friend.”
Loren nodded and waited for me to continue.
“When she got her heart broken, I let her go off by herself to heal.”
Loren nodded again. “I bet they hadn’t invented ice cream at that time.”
I chuckled softly, looking away. I should tell this human woman to leave, to not hitch her friendship to my wagon. The last real friend I had was murdered, then I’d forgotten about her and moved on with my life. I was sure that broke so many laws of the Girlfriend Code. But alone was the last thing I wanted to be right now.
Loren crossed her legs under her and settled in like she wasn’t going anywhere. She’d probably ignore me if I told her to go. And who knew what trouble she’d get into without someone at her back. I might as well keep an eye on her for a while.
“So … Zane called you?”
“Like every other hour while you were recovering,” she said. “Tres sent bodyguards to stand outside your sickroom.”
I hadn’t known. I didn’t remember hearing a phone ring or people outside the door. I’d been trapped in my head the first few days, remembering things from the past. Then, when I woke, they slipped away from me again.
“Is that part of your superpower?” Loren asked. “Making men fall hopelessly in love with you, for like, an eternity?”
I shook my head.
“Can you fly?”
I shook my head again.
“So you don’t feel pain unless you’re around one of those two boys. Either one of them can weaken you physically until you get sick and die?”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s lame.” Loren frowned. “And kinda messed up.”
“It’s very messed up when you think about it.” I dug into the tub for another bite. The container was already half empty. Surprisingly, I was feeling a little better. “You only brought the one?”
“I can go get more,” she said. “Or I have a better idea.”
I gazed up at her. Her ideas so far had only gotten me into trouble. Still, my ears perked up.
“You familiar with the Eleusinian Mysteries?”
“The religious rituals centered around the Cult of Demeter?” It was a secretive group that traced its roots as far back
as ancient Egypt. Its disciples believed the rituals they practiced in worship of the goddess, Demeter, would bring them prosperity in life, but more importantly, riches in the afterlife. For the most devout, it would bring rebirth.
I’d never found anything that made their claims credible. There had been a rumor of a tablet that depicted the rituals, or mysteries, of the cult. But it had been destroyed in the eighteenth century before I had a chance to take a look at it.
“What about it?” I asked.
“I know a guy who might be a part of the Cult of Demeter. He offered me an invitation. I thought he was cracked, but after my most recent adventure, I realize I may have been a little too hasty.”
My ears were burning by the time she finished speaking. There was only one thing that bothered me. “Loren, how do I know this tablet that may or may not exist is not a forgery?”
She snorted. “Trust me, if I forged it”—she smiled sweetly—“you would never know.”
My lips parted wider and wider until I was grinning. This idea had the makings of even more trouble.
Loren turned those innocent baby blues on me. “So, Dr. Rivers, what do you say? Do you want me to run out and get more ice cream so you can mope over boys? Or do you want to go on an adventure?”
I stuck the spoon into the tub and scraped out the last bit of ice cream. “Sure,” I said. “I could use an adventure.”
To be continued…
The adventure isn’t over! Nia will return in Demeter’s Tablet, Book Two of the Nia Rivers Adventures.
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About the Authors
JASMINE WALT is obsessed with books, chocolate, and sharp objects. Somehow, those three things melded together in her head and transformed into a desire to write, usually fantastical stuff with a healthy dose of action and romance. Her characters are a little (okay, a lot) on the snarky side, and they swear, but they mean well. Even the villains sometimes. When Jasmine isn’t chained to her keyboard, you can find her practicing her triangle choke on the jujitsu mat, spending time with her family, or binge-watching superhero shows on Netflix. You can connect with her on Instagram at @jasmine.walt, on Facebook, or at www.jasminewalt.com.
