Beta's Destiny (Rocky Mountain Shifters Book 2)

by Jasmine Wylder

  Eva exhaled a shaky breath. She’d felt the hands on her shoulders, that hadn’t been in her imagination. What was it that Ambrose had said…when you lose your voice completely then you’ll really be in danger…

  Was it even possible? She looked again.

  “Eva…let’s go.” One of the women designated to help her into her costume change tugged on Eva’s arm.

  “Of course,” Eva followed her into one of the side rooms. Two other women helped her undress through the intermission and get redressed into a two-layered gown. It was the most sumptuous material Eva had ever felt against her skin.

  The amber colored gown flowed over her body in ripples. Eva tried to change as fast as possible so she could get back out and find Ambrose before the third act began.

  As she pushed her way through the wings. A shiver ran up her spine.

  “Something isn’t right,” she said as she saw Ambrose again.

  “No, you aren’t safe.” he looked around the stage.

  “What should I do?”

  Ambrose ran a finger over her neck, “Are you ready?”

  Eva felt the tingling sensation of his finger on her skin. Was she ready? Didn’t she need some time? To be sure he hadn’t just been saying what she wanted to hear? What if he changed his mind about her?

  “Do you trust me?” He moved her face so she was looking into his eyes.

  “Yes,” she said the word and she knew it was true. She loved him, she needed him, and she would trust him.

  “Places, act three,” the stage manager yelled out in a terse voice. Eva might have thought that he was the one being stalked by dark, evil creatures.

  Eva was prodded by two stagehands to get in a coffin on stage. She gotten into it at least twenty times in rehearsals for the beginning of act three but tonight the enclosed space took on a new meaning. She looked to the woman dressed all in black on her right. The woman smiled and offered her hand to help Eva in. Eva calmed herself and stepped up and into the thick wooden coffin.

  The third act began and Eva looked up at the dark wood in front of her face. There were air holes in the coffin and a bit of screen had been put in along the sides, so there would be light enough for Eva to see.

  Her world suddenly felt small, crushingly small. She pushed her hands against the outer sides, bracing herself as she heaved a giant breath. She watched her chest rise and fall and listened to Ambrose’s voice just outside on the stage. His voice was what she needed.

  At any moment he would walk over and open the lid to the coffin. In the opera Lucretia had been snooping, looking around the Vampire King’s castle and she’d hidden herself away in an old relic of a coffin. When Ambrose opened the coffin and exposed Eva it was meant to be a comical moment in the mostly serious opera. She waited and listened for the musical cues.

  The cues came. The coffin didn’t open.

  Eva braced herself again, trying to find comfort in the solid walls on either side of her. She watched her chest lift and lower. Still the lid remained closed.

  There was a sound outside and she could hear Ambrose tugging on the lid. It was stuck.

  She looked desperately around her, trying to see if the lid could have gotten stuck anywhere on the inside. Claustrophobia was beginning to crush in on her, make her frantic for release.

  Eva beat on the lid. She felt the air leaving her lungs. There was no way to make it out of this alive, she should have known that, she should have guessed. Eva closed her eyes.

  The coffin rocked from side to side and Eva screamed. There was a suspension of gravity then, with a thud, Eva hit the floor. The coffin burst open and Eva gasped as she crawled out.

  The audience burst into laughter, they didn’t know that anything was supposed to be any different. Eva was rattled. Her hands were shaking and she felt like she couldn’t get enough air.

  She sat on the stage as Ambrose bent down and put a hand to her face. He began to sing again and she watched as he winked at her.

  Eva put a hand to her chest then to her face and she stood up with Ambrose’s hand on her arm, helping her.

  She came in a little late to the music but the sound was flawless and Eva gave herself over to Ambrose, to Luciano’s opera, and to the almost four thousand people watching them.

  As Eva stood singing, stretching her voice and using the very real emotions she was feeling toward her performance she turned to face Ambrose.

  As part of the set there were three separate suits of armor that were meant to line the walls of Ambrose’s castle. As Eva stepped out to run into Ambrose’s arms there was a movement behind them.

  A full chorus was moving into place, they would be singing through the sequence, but there was another movement as well.

  When Eva swiveled her head to see, there was a gasp from the audience. Once suit of armor was moving toward her, sword drawn.

  Eva wanted to scream but the sound would not leave her mouth. She felt the invisible hands clutching around her body, holding her in place, keeping her from running.

  “Ambrose,” she mouthed the name but no sound would reach her lips.

  The knight that stood in front of Eva raised his sword. She struggled against the invisible hands holding her fast, but it was no use, she couldn’t break herself free.

  Ambrose darted in front of her and caught the hand holding the sword just before it began its descent. Eva let out a blood-curdling scream. She heard various gasps from the audience. The chorus behind them was singing its full gothic song.

  Everyone thought this was a part of the show. Eva felt her jaw bounce with emotion. Eva understood just how strong Ambrose was, and by the look of his struggle with the knight Eva could also understood how strong his opponent must really be.

  They struggled against each other. Eva watched, powerless to help. Ambrose struggled and strained against the strength of the knight. Just as Eva thought Ambrose would prevail there was a clattering sound from behind her and once again the audience gasped. Eva turned her head long enough to see the second suit clunking toward her.

  Ambrose lifted his foot and pushed it straight into the torso of the armor. The knight fell back releasing the sword. Ambrose wielded the sword like a master. He turned to Eva who sat sprawled on the wooden floorboards unable to move. She pushed her body against the invisible hands but they were strong, so much stronger than she was.

  Ambrose lifted the sword above her head and as she winced there was the sound of metal on metal. The chorus kept on in full-blown voice. Everyone thought this was part of the spectacle so they would not help, had no idea that they should help. No one knew that at any moment both Eva and Ambrose could be split open in front of their eyes.

  There was another clang of metal on metal and Ambrose began to move past Eva, the clink and clatter of repartee continuing on.

  Eva squirmed hard enough to turn. She watched the back and forth blows between the two, each one powerful enough to kill. Eva watched in horror as the last suit began a clattering movement forward. Ambrose had his hands full as it was, how would he ever manage between two adversaries?

  “Behind you,” Eva called.

  Ambrose turned, he saw the third knight just in time to dodge out of the way of thunderous blow. The sword descended, splitting floorboards. It was quickly raised again and Ambrose moved between the two knights. Lifting his sword to one, then to the other. Eva closed her eyes, she focused all her energy on the grip she now felt herself in. She pushed her body against the invisible hands.

  She inhaled, her voice, her song… hadn’t it been her voice leaving that meant they had sucked her power from her? Eva pulled in a breath and exhaled a stream of notes. They rose and filled the stage, softly at first, then with more breath and sharper notes. She lifted to her knees, then to her feet. She felt the hands losing power over her. She heard the clatter of metal around her but she sang through it. Eva felt her body expanding, felt the release of the hands that had clenched her so tightly.

  The clattering and clanging s
topped and Eva opened her eyes. A ripple of fear flowed through her. What if Ambrose had not been victorious? She whirled around on the stage to see pieces of armor scattered and strewn about the floor.

  Ambrose dropped the sword he held and let it clang onto the ground. He walked forward, his body obviously exhausted, chest rising and falling.

  He reached for her. Eva embraced him.

  Ambrose drew back and began on the last pages of the opera, where the Vampire King asks Lucretia to be his queen and Lucretia accepts, opening her neck to him, inviting the bite that will pull her over into his world for all eternity.

  He sang the words fully, the chorus laying the groundwork to the magnificent sound. Eva understood. She understood that when he asked as the Vampire King he was asking as Ambrose. She understood that what she was agreeing to as Lucretia she was agreeing to as Eva.

  Eva put her hands around his face, she sang the words, deliberate, sure. There was no more hesitation, nothing to think about or worry about. She was certain.

  Eva dipped her head back. She heard the loud lift of the chorus singing behind them, she felt the four thousand pairs of eyes watching her. Ambrose’s fingers gently touched the bare skin of her neck. She felt his face move toward her, bend to her, find her.

  Then she felt a bolt of pure liquid heat. She felt an electric shock suddenly burst through her body. Her vision went black. Eva groaned and her body spasmed. Then her vision returned.

  The colors of the world were overwhelming. She could smell each and every person and thing all at once. She waited as Ambrose pulled back from her, his eyes passionate, his face telling her he would always be by her side.

  She stood to her full height, she looked at her hands, let the silk of her dress move against her skin. Eva felt a new energy blossom and burn within her. She could feel, as she hadn’t yet, the presence of life within her.

  She put one hand to her stomach and looked at Ambrose. He looked better than he’d ever looked before. Not just because he was handsome, which he was, but because he was hers. He belonged to her and there were no more questions lingering in her mind. He lifted her hand and turned to the audience. With a breath, they finished the last line of the opera…. together we are one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Look, mama, look,” Arabella pointed at the strong wrought iron vision of the Eiffel Tower. She opened her mouth wide at the sight and kept her finger pointing straight ahead.

  Arabella had a mound of thick dark curls like her mother and the surprising green eyes of her father.

  “I know, isn’t it beautiful?” Eva grabbed Arabella’s pointed hand and ran along the stone street of the Rue de l'Université.

  The two dark heads bobbed onto the intertwining paths and out into the grasses that surrounded the prolific landmark.

  “Shall we sit here?” Eva spread a shawl upon the neatly kept grass then sat on it.

  “Can I play?” Arabella turned to her with excitement. Eva looked at the three other children who were playing with a ball.

  “If you like,” Eva responded. She already knew that it would be very difficult to deny her child anything she wanted. But Arabella never showed signs of becoming a spoiled little princess, so Eva didn’t give it too much concern.

  Arabella ran forward to join the other children who were happily kicking the ball with the violence and aplomb only children seem to possess. Eva was always amazed at her brave little daughter. Arabella never fretted over meeting new people and always dove into any situation that might lie in front of her. Eva smiled as she watched her little girl’s curls bounce up and down as she tried to learn her new game.

  “I’ve never seen such a vision.”

  Eva turned around to see Ambrose standing with the sun at his back, making him look like a god.

  “And I am not talking about the Eiffel Tower,” he smiled then sat down beside Eva. “I thought you might like to read this.” He proffered Eva the daily edition of Le Monde. The pages were turned back and Eva saw a large color photo of herself dressed as Gilda. Ambrose and Eva were both starring in a production of Rigoletto.

  “But where are you?” Eva looked down the page. Ambrose was playing the Duke of Mantua and she’d been telling herself that all the press and hubbub surrounding the production was merely because of Ambrose’s presence, not her own.

  “No one cares about me anymore, darling. They’re all clamoring to see you.”

  Eva gave him a look.

  “It’s true,” Ambrose held up his hands and laughed. “One day you will realize how very talented you are, how the whole world loves and adores you, then you will not care for my love anymore.”

  “That is impossible.” Eva said it seriously though his comment had been made in jest. “Your love will always be the only thing that matters to me.”

  “Good,” Ambrose leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. When he was done, he didn’t pull away but stayed, inches from her face, sharing the same breath, the same air with her. “But you haven’t read it.” He looked down at the paper.

  “Who can read when there are such kisses to be had?” She leaned in for another kiss and let it linger on her mouth. “Ok.” She said when he looked back at the paper again. She picked up the page and worked her best translation skills as she read through it. “Well, it seems very complimentary.” Eva smiled.

  “Your translation isn’t doing you justice then.” He picked up the paper and cleared his voice. “Ms. Eva St. Marie Leroy is the new angel of our century. Her voice will go on to the light the path to true musical genius for generations to come,” he read. “They don’t know of course that you’ll be here long after that to continue shining your light through all those generations.”

  “Suppose I get tired of singing?” Eva asked.

  “Impossible, you forget that I know you.”

  Eva ran her finger over the lines of her husband’s face. It was the best face she’d ever seen.

  “I thought we would take a nice little dinner in our dressing room tonight. Then Hilda can just meet us there to take Arabella home for the night.” Ambrose looked to Arabella who was still running wildly over the grass. Hilda was Arabella’s nanny. She read and played with Arabella while Eva and Ambrose worked through rehearsals and tonight she would take Arabella back to their two-story Paris apartment and put her to sleep just as her parents were beginning their journey as Gilda and the Duke of Mantua.

  Arabella kicked the ball in front of her then tripped over the ground and smashed, with all the fluster and fury of a five-year-old, into the ground.

  Arabella looked up with tears welling in her eyes, she let the pain and surprise of the moment sink in, then she looked to the blue sky above her and let out a wail. The sound was so brilliant and piercing that Eva often found herself embarrassed for her daughter’s incredible lungs.

  “Oh dear,” Eva sighed.

  Ambrose stood up and ran to his daughter, he never gave the same worrying care over Arabella that Eva gave. Instead, he swooped down and picked her up, lifting her high into the air. Ambrose looked up at his daughter’s face and smiled.

  He threw her up then caught her easily as she came down. Arabella laughed. It always seemed remarkable to Eva the way that Ambrose could turn her daughter’s tears into laughter. He had the same talent for her. Eva could never feel sad for very long with Ambrose around her.

  “Careful,” Eva needlessly called out to Ambrose. Ambrose was always careful, he was always sure of himself.

  Ambrose walked with Arabella on his shoulders and his hand on Eva’s back.

  When they arrived at the Palais Garnier Eva gasped.

  “Luciano!” She ran into the older man’s arms.

  “Ah, Passerotto mio—”

  Eva pulled back, looking over his face, “Is Glenda with you?”

  “Yes, yes, she’s at the hotel now, she will come tonight. We are both excited.” He extended a hand to encompass the entire opera house. Luciano noticed Arabella who was standing res
pectfully by looking up at him and her mama. “And Arabella, how you’ve grown.”

  “You always say that,” she giggled. Luciano picked her up and held her at his side.

  “Come, join us for dinner, we are having it brought it from Le Meurice.” Ambrose held out an arm to direct Luciano to follow Eva through the halls of the palatial building.

  The quartet sat and ate blue lobster, exquisite risotto, and scallops with white alba truffle foam. They laughed at Luciano’s recent stories of time with his family in Venice and Glenda’s conquests in procuring Luciano a spot on next year’s roster with La Scala.

  Hilda came and all three adults kissed the precious Arabella goodnight. Arabella gave an unconvincing show of not being tired but eventually agreed that she would see everyone again in the morning.

  “Life seems very good, Luciano. La Scala next year, a good woman by your side?” Ambrose put his napkin on the table to signify that dinner was over.

  “That is what I want to talk with you about. I want you both to be in my new opera.” Luciano smiled at Eva and Ambrose.

  “A new opera?” Eva leaned forward.

  “I think you might be my muse, I’ve had another dream.” Luciano looked up as if imagining the visions he’d had.

  Ambrose looked to Eva with raised brows.

  “I’ve always wanted to sing at La Scala…like my mother,” Eva admitted.

  “You will sing there with or without me. You will sing at all the major opera houses, there can be no doubt of that.”

  “And your new opera?” Ambrose questioned. “What will it be about?”

  “The Vampire Queen,” Luciano looked happily across the table. “The Queen of the underground. Spoiled forever in eternity by her King… A bond so strong it could never be broken…and a child. A child with the voice of the future.”

  Eva felt her mouth open, then she closed it again.

  “But…” Eva tried to get her thoughts straight. “Isn’t there…some drama? Something terrible waiting your Queen?”

  Luciano looked at her for a long time then sat back. “That is just the problem. I cannot seem to fit anything horrible inside. Perhaps the child could be plagued by the same darkness that plagued Lucretia. She could be swept up one brisk night out of the hands of her nanny…to be the muse of the darkness…”