by Ciana Stone
Beau put the phone back into his shirt pocket. “Okay, I’m all yours.”
“Then let us depart.”
They got into the car, and the driver headed for the airstrip. “So why are we going to Uncle Elijah’s?”
“It will all be explained when we arrive. I beg your patience and trust.”
Beau didn’t know how to argue with that, so agreed and from that point until they arrived at his uncle’s house, no more words were exchanged.
“Beau, good to see you boy.” Elijah greeted Beau when he opened the front door. “Come in, come in. Everyone is waiting.”
“For what?” Beau asked, noting that Severin merely nodded to Elijah and hurried by.
“Why, an awakening.” A tall, stocky man with long gray hair answered from the door.
“An awakening?”
“Yes, sir. You must be Beau. My name’s Joe. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Beau took the offered hand for a shake. “A pleasure, Joe.” He looked at his uncle. “I’d really like to know what the heck’s going on.”
“Come on.” Elijah led the way through the house. They walked out onto the back deck, and Beau stopped so suddenly that Joe ran into him.
“Oops, sorry.” Joe scooted around Beau and made his way to where Severin was standing with Augustus, Logan James, Sabine, a tall, muscular blond man, and a shorter, slender man with dark hair and eyes and the skin coloring of someone of Indian or Arabic origins.
With them was Beau’s father, as well as his aunt and uncle. If the gathering was not enough of a surprise, what lay on a long table on the deck was.
Ily’s body.
Beau looked around in total confusion. “What the hell is going on?”
“I told you, an awakening,” the man who’d introduced himself as Joe said.
“That’s clear as damn mud.” Beau looked at his father. “Dad?”
Senator Legacy looked around at the others and at nods from everyone, walked over to put his arm over Beau’s shoulders. “That’s Joe, son and he’s an Angel, like Sabine. The blond man there? That Gabriel, Prince of the Angels.
“And the dark-haired man beside him is Darius. Darius is Grand Wizard. We’re all here to help awaken Ily.”
“Awaken—“ Beau looked at Ily’s body and then at his dad. “She’d dead, Dad. She’s been dead for over a month. Why hasn’t someone buried her yet? What kind of crazy—“
“She’s not dead, Beau.” Sabine spoke up and hurried over to take his hand. “Listen, okay? I want you to think. When Ily saved you, what did you feel?”
Beau wanted to argue, to say that was a stupid question, but the look on Sabine’s face stopped him. “I felt… I don’t know how to describe it. Energy flow into me. Life.” He felt a shock ripple inside him. “Life. That’s it. I felt life.”
“Yes.” Darius agreed. “You did. You felt the life force she created from the Umbra, and you felt her own.”
“Pardon?”
“Ily Scythiana could not bring you back without adding her life force to the energy she created from the Umbra, so she poured her life into you. You became the vessel for her energy and thus were healed.”
“What you’re saying is that she died for me and yeah, I get that.”
“No,” Severin argued. “What he’s saying is that her energy—her life force, her consciousness—is still inside you. It’s not just what brought you back but what healed you. Your injuries should have killed you, but you spent not one day in a hospital and required no treatment, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Because of her energy,” Darius said. “A Scythe has remarkable healing abilities and in a life-or-death situation, at least according to myth, can save another by pouring her life force into the injured party.”
“You mean she’s inside me? Now?” Beau asked.
“Yes.”
“And…what?”
“And now it’s time to try and release her back into her own body.”
Beau had never heard anything crazier in his whole life, but if there was even a chance it was possible, he was for it. “How?”
“Wait.” The Angel Gabriel spoke up. “You have to know there are risks.”
“What kind of risks?”
“This has never been attempted. Even though many of us dealt with or know Scythe, they are largely a mystery to us.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t know how to do this?”
“Not entirely. We know, in theory at least, but as I said, it has never been attempted by anyone other than a Scythian mystic.”
“We believe with our combined powers, we can succeed,” Darius added.
“Then we have to try,” Beau said. “What do you need me to do?”
“Please, sit beside her.”
Beau took a seat beside Ily, noticing how lifelike she appeared, as if she was just sleeping. “Now what?”
“Wait. You will know if we are successful.”
“Yeah, from your lips to God’s ears, but fine. Let’s do it.”
Beau watched as everyone gathered and joined hands in a circle around him and Ily’s body. Darius began to speak, but in a language Beau did not understand. On and on, his voice continued. The wind started to rise, whipping hair and clothing. Lightning flashed in the sky and clouds rolled.
Energy in the form of sparks of light appeared inside the circle of people, dancing an erratic ballet. One by one, the sparks united until there was a glowing orb floating in the circle above them.
Beau started when it descended, but then stilled. He felt his hair stand on end as the orb got closer and then a rush of cool washed over and through him as the light formed a cocoon around him and Ily.
He didn’t understand the words Darius was speaking or the flashes of images in his mind, but somehow he knew what he had to do. Beau leaned down and gently parted Ily’s lips. He felt the cold of her skin against his fingers and knew there was no life in her body and would not be unless he returned what was hers.
Something welled up inside him, something that made him feel as if his body was too full—of what, he couldn’t say—only that there was something inside seeking to be released.
He leaned closer, his lips nearly touching hers as they parted. Light poured from his mouth like a stream of water, leaving him and entering her. He could feel it leave his body, the sensation both a loss and a relief.
When there was no more energy left, he moved back, bracing his hands on either side of her head and watching her. For nearly a minute, nothing happened. Beau started to fear that he’d failed and thought to ask Darius if they could try again.
Before he could give voice to those words, Ily suddenly sucked in air. Her chest rose, and her eyes flew open. Beau could barely believe it when she smiled up at him.
You save me.
He was more astounded. Are you in my head?
Just like you’re in mine. She reached up to take his face in her hands.
How is that possible?
Because we shared spirits. You carried me for…how long was it?
A month.
And John Luke?
He needs you, Ily.
And I need him. Thank you for saving me, brother.
Beau smiled and gathered her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. When he released her, everyone clapped and cheered. He could feel the love and gratitude from the people there and realized that no matter if they were human or Fae, it was the love and genuine caring of those gathered here that had brought her back.
He felt honored to be part of it and even more honored to share a mental link with Ily. She was right; they were now family. And as family, the first thing he wanted to do was to get her home where she belonged. With John Luke.
John Luke stood on the back deck with the morning’s first cup of coffee in his hand. The sun had barely crested the horizon, casting slanting rays across the pastures. Mist rose from the ground, softening the scene.
He saw the beauty, but could not f
ind an appreciation for it. Seemed to him to be the way of life now. He could recognize beauty, just like he could recognize humor or good fortune, but there was nothing inside him that reacted. He felt dead.
His family had tried talking to him. His sister suggested he speak with a psychiatrist. He ignored all of them. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to tell people how empty he felt, how Ily dying had killed everything in him that recognized happiness and beauty.
He didn’t want to tell them that he couldn’t be happy because he’d never had the chance to tell her what she meant to him, how much he loved her. He’d never had the opportunity to thank her for saving Beau. He knew she did it out of love and somehow that made it worse. If she hadn’t loved him, maybe she would be alive.
And Beau would be dead. Damn, how was a man supposed to reconcile himself with something like that? He couldn’t wish for her not to have acted; that was the same as wishing a certain death on his brother.
“Fuck.” Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup, burning his hand. He set the cup on the deck rail and then propped both hands on the rail, letting his head hang. He closed his eyes to fight the tears.
Tell me what you want, John Luke.
Hell’s bells, now he was hearing her in his head. You. I want you, Ily.
Then open your eyes, my love.
John Luke’s head shot up and his gaze swept around. Ily stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the yard with his brother, Beau.
“So, now I’m hallucinating?” He straightened and turned to face her ghost. “Or maybe just losing what’s left of my mind.”
“Or not.” She walked up the steps and crossed the deck to him.
John Luke stepped back from her. “No. You’re not real—or you’re a Shifter—Dark Fae—trying to trick me.”
“Or she’s really here,” Beau said.
“It’s not possible.”
“I’m here to tell you it is,” Beau said and walked up to stand beside Ily.
John Luke looked from him to Ily. “How? How is this possible?”
“Beau brought me back.”
“What? No. No, this isn’t real. It’s a bad dream or—or I’m fucking nuts, but you’re not here.”
“It’s no dream.” Beau argued.” But if you need to be convinced…”
His punch wasn’t enough to knock John Luke down, but it sure whipped his head to the side. “Damn, Beau! What the fuck?”
“Just proving you’re awake and this is real.”
John Luke rubbed his face and then looked at Ily. She smiled at him, and he reached out to touch her face. “Is it really you?”
“Yes.”
“Ily.”
She flew into his arms, holding him so tightly he could barely breathe. Not that he cared. She was in his arms. He could feel her body pressing against his, her arms clinging tightly, her breath on the side of his neck.
“Ily… God, Ily.”
“I’m here. I’m here.”
For a long time they stood there, just holding on. When she finally released him, he looked at Beau. “You brought her back? I don’t understand. How could you do that?”
“With help.”
“Huh?”
“How about we go inside and we’ll fill you in?”
John Luke looked down at her hand in his. “I still can’t believe it. You’re here.”
“Come on.” She tugged on his hand, and they followed Beau inside.
They settled in the family room. As Beau started a fire in the fireplace, Ily took a seat on the sofa with John Luke. He kept a tight grip on her hand. “This doesn’t seem real.”
“I know,” she said. “But it is real.”
“How?”
Ily looked over at Beau. He placed more wood on the fire and then took a seat in a chair beside the fireplace. “Here’s the short version. What we didn’t know is that I was hurt a lot worse than you thought. The white light Ily created from Payne’s darkness wasn’t enough to save me, so she essentially put her life force and consciousness inside me.”
“Say what?” John Luke looked at Ily.
“I’m descended from dragons, remember? Dragons can exist for a certain amount of time in an apparent state of death. There would be no discernable heartbeat or respiration. Only someone knowledgeable like Severin would have recognized that I was in a hibernation state.
“That’s why he took me. He and Darius worked together, along with Gabriel the Prince of the Angels and Joe, Sabine’s father as well. They kept me alive until Beau was completely healed and then they came for him.”
She gestured to Beau. “Best for you to tell this part.”
“Like she said, they came for me and took me to Uncle Elijah’s. Everyone she mentioned was there, along with Dad and Augustus and this wizard Darius. Ily’s body was lying there, and they had me sit with her. Darius started chanting and—and it was like something out of a fantasy movie or something. Wind and thunder rocked the house, and then these pinpricks of lights appeared that gathered into this big ball that kind of swooped down around me and Ily.
“I don’t know how I knew to do it, but I leaned over her and something, a kind of energy and light poured out of my mouth and into hers. And then—“
Beau looked at Ily and smiled. “And then she woke.”
John Luke looked at Ily. “Just like that?”
“Hardly. The energy expended by those gathered was tremendous, and I imagine they will require more than a few days to fully recover. Beau as well. He brought me back, John Luke.”
“I just returned a favor,” Beau said.
“No, you did more than that,” she insisted and reached for John Luke’s hand. “And you have to know that because of that sharing, Beau and I are irrevocably linked.”
A worried expression came on John Luke’s face. “As in you and he are—“
“Like brothers—or brother and sister.” She hurried to explain. “We share a bond and a love that can’t be severed. But not the bond and love I share with you. You own my heart, John Luke.”
“And you own mine.” John Luke gave her hand a squeeze and then rose to walk across the room to his brother.
Beau stood and accepted the embrace. “How can I ever thank you?” John Luke asked.
“Make me the best man at your wedding.”
John Luke pulled back and grinned. “You’ll always be my best man, little brother.”
Beau smiled and then turned away. “Well, I think it’s time for me to head home. I’ll stop by and check on you tomorrow, Ily.”
She got up to give him a hug. “Be safe, my brother. We still have battles ahead, and I need you by my side.”
“I’ve always got your back, sister. See you tomorrow.”
There was silence until the front door closed and then John Luke spoke. “Battles?”
“There is a real possibility. Augustus and the other governors will do what they can to prevent Asha from starting a war, or from committing genocide, but they may need help, and if they do, it is my duty.”
“Then it’s mine as well. But can we leave talk of duty and war for another time? You’re here, Ily, and I feel like I’ve fallen into a dream I want to live in.”
“But it’s no dream.” She hurried to him, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m here, and it will take more than a war of the Fae to take me from you.”
“I love you.” His arms tightened around her as his lips sought hers.
It was a kiss of homecoming, of gratitude and of love, a kiss that conveyed all the emotion she’d craved her entire life and had never known.
And it was a kiss of passion, one that had them fumbling to divest themselves of clothing, touching and tasting as flesh was revealed.
“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she whispered as her fingers traced over the muscles of his chest.
“I’m nowhere near perfect.”
“You are to me.”
“Love me, Ily. Let me love you until the darkness give
s way to light and then sleep in my arms. Be my love and my mate.”
“Always, my love.”
She met his kiss with all the passion and love she possessed. It was ironic. Humans made stories about her people and called them fairy tales. And yet it was she, a member of the Fae, who found herself being delivered the answer to her heart's most secret wish.
She’d found her soul mate, the man who matched her in strength and passion, the man who loved her for who she was.
Scales and all.
Excerpt from
Chapter One
“How long ‘till those burgers are ready Ben?” Grace asked over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.
“Five minutes, ten tops.”
“Okay.” Grace walked into the kitchen and all the chatter stopped. She looked around at her friends, confused by the sudden silence and the furtive glances being cast her way.
“What’s going on?” Grace looked at her best friend Amy.
Amy shook her head and turned away, ostensibly busy with loading the dishwasher.
“Trish?” Grace turned to another woman she’d known for ten years, ever since she and Tad moved into the neighborhood.
“Grace I –“ Trish cut a look at Amy and then back at Grace. “I don’t – what I mean is—“
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” One of the newest women of the circle of friends, Vivien, a brash blonde tossed back a shot of liquor. “What everyone here is chicken shit to tell you is that Amy’s fucking your husband.”
Grace started to laugh, as her first reaction was that it was some kind of ugly prank. But the sound never grew beyond an expulsion of air because Amy turned and looked at her. The expression on her face had shock hitting like a Mac truck.
Grace’s peripheral vision swam a bit and the sound suddenly seemed to be pulsing from soft to loud, oddly timed to her heartbeat. She felt a wave of nausea sweep through her and reached for a chair back for support. This couldn’t be happening.
“Amy?”
Tears poured down her friend’s face. “I’m sorry, Grace. Honest to god, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, that makes it all better doesn’t it?”
