Illusion

by Alexandra Anthony

  Georgia needed me to make her laugh and I gave in, feigning mock irritation. “How could I forget about your exasperating ass? You have to be the most annoying woman on the face of the earth.”

  My words coaxed a giggle out of her. She put her head against mine and we were quiet for a moment, listening to the quiet sounds of the wind rustling through the trees.

  “So are we ok?” Georgia asked meekly.

  “Of course. But I’m going to take a rain check on tonight. I just flew 20 plus hours and I have a house to sort through. I promise we’ll get together in the next day or so.”

  Georgia sulked for a moment and then smiled, pulling me in for a hug. “Deal.”

  I backed away from her car and watched her get inside and start her car, honking wildly as she drove down the driveway.

  Waving until her car was out of sight, I dropped my hand and hugged my arms around myself. For the first time in my life, after all of my years of wandering from place to place, saying goodbye was going to be difficult.

  * * *

  We had been up since 8 am sorting through my bookshelves. Books and clothing were really the only thing I shipped from place to place when I moved. Tackling the bookshelf was also the most time consuming since Stefan was trying to talk me out of keeping the majority of them.

  “Explain why you have two copies of The Great Gatsby?” His question was more of a statement. He flipped through the first well-worn copy before tossing it aside to reach for the second. He looked down at me, waiting for me to answer him.

  “One was given to me by my Dad. I mean, my adopted father.” I pointed to the book in his hand. “The other I picked up at a thrift store while I was waiting for my books to arrive to my new address during one of my moves.”

  Stefan nodded and flipped through more books. He picked up another, his eyebrow raised in humor as he ran his hand over the cover. “The Picture of Dorian Gray. Ironic book to have, yes?”

  From my cross-legged position on the floor, I observed him as he stood barefoot in front of the giant, built-in bookcase with the leather bound book in his hand. His bright blond hair was messy and rumpled, his navy blue t-shirt snug against his chest. He leaned against the wall and crossed his denim clad legs, skimming through the pages of the book, reading at what seemed to be super speed.

  “I suppose it is now that I think about it. A beautiful man that doesn’t age,” I said. He glanced up from the book and his tongue swept over his lower lip as he waited for me to continue. “You don’t have a painting of yourself stashed away in an attic somewhere that is revealing your true age and evil deeds, do you?”

  He chuckled and waved the book in front of him. “No, I can assure you I do not. I am going to assume this goes in the keep pile. Should I mention I happen to have the 1891 First Edition copy of this very book?”

  My mouth gaped for a moment. I tucked a piece of hair that escaped from my ponytail behind my ear, trying to act nonplussed about the fact that he owned a First Edition copy and he’d been around to purchase it, instead trying to refocus on packing. I couldn’t help watching him from of the corner of my eye. “Please.”

  He sighed and placed the book in what was the unofficial “keep” pile. He started on the last shelf, pulling out another leather bound volume. He examined the book in silence, opening it and flipping through the pages. He stopped and concentrated on a page, tension pinching between his blond eyebrows.

  “What?” I asked, distracted by packing books away in a box. Each book I touched made me think about the only man I would ever call my Dad, my adoptive father. Seeing all of these books always made me think of him, remembering the joy he would feel when he would read them, the happiness apparent in his dark blue eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “This book. The Life of Napoleon by John Holland Rose. The 1904 version. Interesting.” He held on to the volume and crossed the room to sit on the floor beside me, one leg bent with his arm resting on his knee. “How did you come to own this edition?”

  “It was another gift from my adoptive father. He was a book lover as well as a collector. When my adoptive parents died, his collection became mine.” I shrugged and went back to packing.

  Stefan was still holding the book. He reached over and placed one of his large hands on mine, stopping me. Looking up at him, I was confused at his sudden interest in a book on Napoleon that my adoptive father had gifted to me.

  “There is a note inside. Did you know that?” Stefan questioned, his voice low.

  “What? A note? No, I’ve never even opened it.”

  He placed the heavy text in my hands, his finger marking the spot where the yellowed note rested. As the pages fell open, my eyes were drawn to the paper that was folded and lodged in the binding of the book. I recognized the scrawl of my adoptive father’s handwriting immediately.

  Running my fingertips over the fragile note with my fingers, I hesitated before opening it, sucking in a ragged breath.

  “What are you waiting for, Josephine?”

  Laughing nervously, I twisted my mouth to the side. “More bad news?”

  Stefan leaned across and cupped my cheek with his hand. “Read it. Unless there is news about your other side of the family being werewolves, I think we are fine.”

  Blanching, I forgot about the note. “Werewolves? Are there werewolves?”

  Stefan rolled his blue eyes at me. “Are there vampires!? Yes, there is a scarce amount of werewolves in the world.” He waved his hand and pointed at the note. “Read.”

  I sat slack jawed for a moment. Werewolves? What other mythical creatures could there be? My mind drifted to thinking about the possibilities of Bigfoot, pixies and unicorns existing. If there are vampires, could they be real too?

  He reached over and closed my mouth. “Josephine, focus. Werewolves are mainly in Europe. I assure you we are safe. As for the other creatures, even I do not know. Now stop stalling and read the letter.”

  My hands were trembling as I opened the delicate paper. Glancing at the top of the page, I noticed the date. It was dated over 15 years ago, when I would have only been 13. I could almost see him sitting at his desk, writing this letter to me. I suddenly missed him more than I could understand, or even begin to put into words. There was so much I wished I had said to him, that I wished I could say to him now.

  Stefan tapped the paper again, drawing my attention back to the letter and I began to read.

  Josephine,

  If you are reading this letter, it is well after my death and you have either found out about your true parents, or will soon. You cannot begin to understand how difficult it was for us not to tell you the truth about your birth parents, even when you begged us to do so. It will always be my deepest regret.

  Your birth mother, Armes, was my younger sister. She disappeared soon after your birth, and your father and his representatives showed up on our doorstep with demands for us to take you in and raise you. We fell in love with you at first sight and agreed to their terms to never disclose who your true parents were. We were silenced by our fear, their threats and money, I am ashamed to admit. You were well provided for, so I can only say that did alleviate some of the guilt which has plagued me for many years.

  If your birth father, Kian, has already approached you, tread with extreme caution. I fear my sister met her end at his hands and your father is a dangerous man. If he has not yet found you or approached you, know that he will at some point. Look beyond his words to find the truth.

  As I watched you grow, you reminded me of your mother and made her loss from my life a little easier to accept. Having you in my life was one of the greatest joys of my life, Josephine. You share the same gift as your mother, and I know that she would be proud to see what a beautiful, intelligent woman you are sure to become.

  With much love,

  Dad

  Handing the note to Stefan, I rubbed over my face with my hands. How many more skeletons did I have in my closet? Over the span of a week, I found out my fath
er is a powerful vampire, my mother was killed by my him, I have a long-lost brother and it looked like I needed a new hanger for my expanding closet. My adoptive father was really my Uncle.

  “Interesting,” he muttered. “Josephine?”

  There was that word from him again. Interesting.

  “I’m at a loss for words. What are your thoughts, because I know you have more to say than just interesting.”

  It was his turn to rub his large hand over his stubbled chin, his blue eyes serious. “Your adoptive father knew Kian was someone to be concerned about 28 years ago. He then took the time and the risk to write you a letter 15 years ago and place it in an obscure book about Napoleon. To me, that is telling.”

  I leaned towards him and grabbed his arms to get his full attention. “Go on. You think there’s more, don’t you?”

  “Possibly. Napoleon was a very successful leader for many years. He was cunning and intelligent, however his thirst for power led to his political demise and his imprisonment and exile in 1815,” Stefan theorized, his eyes taking on a distant look. “Your adoptive father chose this book for a reason, Josephine. Tell me about him.”

  “His name was Garreth Anderson. I thought he was an only child, but that doesn’t seem to be the case,” I said, turning my head to the side as I sorted through my memories of the man I called Dad for so many years. Flashes of him laughing, helping me with my homework, watching me graduate high school ran through my mind. “He was a librarian at the University where I grew up. He loved books, collecting antiques and rare books. He considered himself to be an amateur historian. He was a wonderful man and an even better father.”

  “He was obviously intelligent enough to have figured Kian out as well.” Stefan took the book from me and closed it, placing his hand on the cover. “What do you want to do with this?”

  An evil smile spread across my face. “Put that in our carry on bag. I’m taking it back to New York and sending it to Kian as a thank you gift for the painting he sent to me.”

  Stefan cocked his eyebrow. “I thought you were sending the painting back to him? What are you planning?”

  “He lived during the time that Napoleon ruled. Maybe he needs a reminder what happens to tiny men with gigantic egos.”

  Stefan pushed the books aside and pulled me on his lap so I was facing him. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned to kiss me, his lips as soft as feathers against mine. When he pulled away, a smirk graced his handsome face. “As I’ve said before, you are my match in every way, vackra.”

  * * *

  After a full day of sorting through closets, bookshelves and drawers, I taped the final box closed, picking it up and carrying it across the room and stacking it against the wall. Standing with my arms crossed, I surveyed my work. My life was now packed up in a series of 15 boxes that would be shipped via courier to the Chelsea condo in New York. We’d be staying at Stefan’s house until we left for the US, so this was my official last night in my villa in Canggu, and I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic.

  I thought of all of the lonely days and nights I spent in this house, thinking I was content with being alone for the rest of my life. And then I met Stefan…he turned everything I knew upside down. He showed me what it was to truly love and to be loved. I’d take all of the baggage, all of the mysteries I’d yet to discover about myself to spend a hundred lifetimes with him. My gorgeous, deadly, loving immortal other half, a walking contradiction in every way.

  Turning and heading down the hallway into the bedroom, I was surprised to see Stefan propped up in bed, flipping through the book he’d chosen to stow away in my carry on bag for our flight. Standing in the doorway, my eyes took him in. He was simply striking, from his golden blond hair, his expressive eyes over his high cheekbones to the soft curve of his lips. He was bare chested and his pale skin gleamed in the light from the bedside lamp, his muscular chest covered with a dusting of downy, blond hair. I inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scent of him that could either sooth or send my senses reeling. Tonight his woodsy fragrance sent me reeling, my excitement and hunger for him burning deep inside of me, tiny darts of desire pricking my skin.

  Walking to his side of the bed, I snatched the book from his hands, marking his spot and placing it on the table beside the bed. He regarded me with surprise, his sparkling blue eyes darkening as he watched me boldly strip off my tight t-shirt and panties. I stood naked before him, relishing in the heat from his burning blue gaze.

  “You are fucking beautiful, Josephine. Min enda kärlek.”

  Pulling back the covers, a moan escaped from my lips when I found him to be naked underneath against the sheets. Climbing over him to straddle him, my hands pressed against his chest as I captured his lips in a lingering, soft kiss. His hands drifted up my arms to grip them lightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth and meeting mine, tangling together in an unhurried, sensual dance. One hand laced in the waves of my hair, pulling my head closer. When I reluctantly lifted my mouth from his, the look of longing in his eyes was and would always be my undoing.

  “Stefan,” I breathed.

  In a blur, I was underneath him, his large body suspended over me, his hard cock pressing into my hip, encased in his powerful arms.

  I wanted to lick him, taste his skin. Reading my mind, he bent over me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He slightly arched his back to bring his chest close to my eager mouth. My tongue darted out, licking across his smooth skin. It circled around his nipple before my lips closed around it, lightly sucking until he moaned, a heady sound that sent my senses trilling.

  "Ah, vackra. Bite. Hard." His mental voice sounded strained as he pushed his command to me.

  My teeth bit into the soft skin around his nipple and he growled deep in his chest. Encouraged by his response and wanting more, my teeth scraped across his flesh, drawing blood. I lapped at the drops of blood that seeped to the surface and I met his dark, nearly black eyes, the taste of his bittersweet blood still in my mouth.

  “I want you,” I demanded softly, unwrapping my legs from around him and parting my legs wide for him to fully see my arousal. He raised himself on one arm, his eyes dropping from mine long enough to look down, his thick fingers slowly moving to slip through the wetness that had escaped to coat my folds. His eyes slid back to mine, his face transforming into the more primal Stefan that could so easily lose control: wild eyes, tight jaw, furrowed eyebrows. His fangs dropped as his true nature took over.

  In an instant he had me pinned back against the bed, his cock deep inside of me, his hips thrusting in deep, steady strokes. His eyes were closed and he was whispering to himself, so fast I couldn’t understand his words. His thoughts were difficult to read, mostly in Swedish, but I knew what he was doing. He was trying to reign himself in, reminding himself that he didn’t want to hurt me.

  "Come for me, Stefan," I begged, as I writhed underneath him, welcoming every vigorous plunge of his cock as he completely filled me. The look of surprise and lust on his face sent need flooding through my veins. "I want to watch you. Come for me, Stefan."

  He took a deep breath, opening his eyes and fixing them on mine until he simply had to look away. His pleasure overtook him, making him close his eyes and convulse violently, his immense body shaking against me. He curled into me, resting his head on my breast, letting out a satisfied moan that shook me to my very core. My own orgasm barreled over me as I clutched and shuddered underneath him. For the first time it was me that pushed him over the edge into sweet bliss, making him crumble while he dragged me over the edge with him.

  Every single thought in my brain left me when Steftan’s fangs slipped into my neck. I was still trembling with the aftershocks of my own release. The feeling of his bite only intensified my pleasure, the renewed tremors making me tighten rhythmically around him again and again, softly whispering his name.

  He kept stroking inside of me gently as he drank from me, soft purring timbres emanating from his chest as he swallowed m
y blood in greedy sips. We were wrapped around each other, lost in our communion together.

  “What in the fuck is going on?”

  Chapter 8 – To Know is to Forget

  We’d cocooned ourselves in bliss, completely unaware of our surroundings. Georgia, being her normal inquisitive self with no boundaries, had stumbled upon more than she’d bargained for. Her intrusion was unexpected and startling, causing immediate chaos.

  Stefan withdrew his fangs from my neck and went into attack mode, streaking from the bed with his bloody teeth bared, grabbing Georgia by the throat. She fought against him, her dark blue eyes large and filled with unshed tears. Stefan's grip never faltered as he held her in place, his eyes dilated and unfocused.

  Ignoring the blood that trickled down my chest from his bite, I frantically dove from the bed to calm the sudden commotion, hastily draping the sheet around me.

  "Stefan, let her go. It's Georgia," I tried to reason with him, my voice getting louder as I spoke. Snapping my fingers in front of his face, I tried again. "Stefan!"

  His eyes darted between Georgia and myself. His fingers gradually loosened their grasp on her and she staggered backwards, clutching her neck where his hand had been. Her head bobbed back and forth between us, her mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

  She whirled around on her heel, turning to run and I panicked. Throwing my hands up in front of me, I let out a shriek. "No! Georgia, stop!"

  She came to an immediate halt, unable to move. My inner shield had altered in some way, invisibly casting itself outward in my fear. It encircled her, effectively holding her in place. It felt as if an elastic web had stretched away from my body to securely wrap around her.

  Stefan could only stare at me, his mind voice filled with awe. "Are you doing this, Josephine?"

  I shrugged. "It appears that I am. I have no idea what’s happening, Stefan.”

  Slowly approaching her, I kept my hands in front of me. "Georgia, I want you to sit down so we can talk, ok?"