Revelation

by Tanith Frost

  He doesn’t say anything. My heart feels as if it’s going to shatter.

  “There’s nothing,” he says so quietly I have to strain to understand him.

  “What do you mean?”

  His mouth twists in a pained smile. “You asked what’s on the other side of letting go and becoming what they want you to be. There’s survival, I suppose. And power. It looks good if it’s all you let yourself see. But you came back, and it was like you carried with you every good thing from the past I needed to forget. I slipped. I saw how hollow my existence had become. How…”

  His voice trails off.

  Then he moves as quickly as he ever has in battle. His lips press against mine. His hands pull me closer. And he’s open to me—not his power, but his self. It’s hard to perceive—this isn’t the kind of energy my gift was made for. But it’s there. Pain, fear, and desire, all communicated without words.

  I didn’t mean for this to happen when I brought him here, but I’m sure as hell not stopping it now. This is the Daniel I came searching for, the one I thought I’d lost. All I want now is connection. I lean back onto the mossy ground, pulling him with me, kissing him like I want to consume him. My hands slip under his shirt, my fingers brush over the nearly healed wound on his ribs.

  I want to slaughter everyone who dared harm him. They should feel his pain and that of every vampire he saw tortured, and pay for everything they’ve stolen from him.

  The embers I felt within me earlier tonight glow brighter. My fire usually roars to life when it comes, but this is slow, almost reluctant, the stirred coals of flames that have been left to die. I feel it, though, and it only intensifies my need to be close to him. The void in Daniel should react to it and make him want to push me away, but he only kisses me harder, nipping at my lips, stoking flames of a very different sort.

  But we have to be careful. Quiet, even when his hands on my body make me want to moan aloud. No one can find us here. No one can know. We’re grasping at what we can get in the few moments we have, desperate and needing. It shouldn’t feel this good. We’re not even undressed, and for once, I actually wish I were wearing a skirt. I’m on high alert, as he surely is, listening for anyone else entering the garden.

  This is stupid. And dangerous.

  And the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m convinced it’s worth dying all over again for. Every brush of his cool skin against mine comes as a shock. Every kiss feels stolen from those who would see us turned against each other.

  I feel full, even in my need and desire. There’s none of the emptiness I felt with Lachlan. No sense of being used or of something being taken from me, only of wanting to give and feel and create something that’s bigger than both of us.

  We pause long enough for me to remove my boots, and even then he’s kissing the back of my neck, dragging his fangs gently over my skin, driving me wild. I’m glad. I don’t want to stop completely and risk letting reason intrude where it’s not welcome.

  Daniel tugs my jeans down and I kick one leg free. He pushes my sweater up and lays a trail of kisses down my belly before pulling at my panties, rubbing his thumbs gently over the sloped ridges of my hip bones.

  “Hurry,” I whisper. “Before someone comes looking for me. I need you.”

  And God, am I ready for him. Every dream and every sleepless dawn when I lay in bed thinking about him has been preparing me for this, and the knowledge of how close I came to losing him forever only makes me want him more.

  He’s still almost fully clothed, undressing only as much as he needs to. There’s no time to tease or show off or linger over pleasantries. I push his shirt up so his skin presses against mine as he slides into me.

  We’re as good as silent. No breaths, no heartbeats. Daniel presses his face to my neck and cradles the back of my head in one hand as my arms wrap around him, holding him close. We move slowly together. This should be frenzied, but he seems as reluctant as I am to let even one second escape without savouring every sensation that passes between us.

  Tears well up in my eyes, and my heart feels as if it’s swelling to the point of bursting. We might never have this again. It doesn’t matter. Now is enough.

  I move faster against him, urging him to pick up the pace, adjusting the angle of my hips so every thrust sends a wave of warmth through me, each building on the last. I can’t help it. I draw a breath, harsh and gasping.

  Daniel kisses me again, muffling the soft sounds that rise from the back of my throat as my body releases its built-up tension in a wave of physical pleasure that sweeps me up in it, threatening to carry me away. I can’t lose myself completely, though. I have to remain aware, alert. But God, it’s so good. My body trembles as I swallow back a cry that would reveal us.

  I never want this to end, but every second that passes is more dangerous than the last.

  I pull my lips away from Daniel’s and tug at his earlobe with my teeth. “Hurry,” I whisper, though I can feel how close he is.

  The void in Daniel is barely perceptible, hidden far better than mine. This isn’t like past experiences when my desire to fuck someone has been tied up in my connection to their power. This is pure. Physical. Emotional. Stripped bare of every motivation except for wanting him.

  My monster. My love.

  He pulls out at the last second, catching me by surprise. My left fang leaves a scratch down his throat. Tremors pass through his body, and for a moment I’m overwhelmed by the sense that I’ve been cheated.

  But he presses his forehead against mine, then kisses the tip of my nose. “No one can know about this,” he whispers. “No matter how close he gets to you.”

  I close my eyes and rest my head back on the moss, suddenly nauseated. “I can’t even think about that right now.”

  “You have to.” Daniel stands and pulls his pants up, then collects my boots as I try to put myself back together. “Our situation was unpleasant before, but it was far safer. Nothing can change if we ever want to get out of here.”

  “Everything has changed.” I pull my boots on and lean back against the tree trunk. “Now that I’ve seen what Tempest has to offer, I’m convinced that I can’t let them take over Maelstrom’s lands and destroy everything there. Maelstrom may not be perfect, but at least there are possibilities. Things could get better. If Tempest wins…”

  I pause, hoping Daniel will fill in the blanks for me, but he just waits.

  I clear my throat. “If Tempest wins, we get what we have here. More power to those who have it, more stolen from those who don’t. Great for a few, bullshit for everyone else, and those in control pretending they deserve it. Destruction of other energies even before we understand them. Misery for humans. Extinction of werewolves.”

  He nods, though I doubt energies or werewolves are particular concerns for him. He’s felt the void here. He knows how intoxicatingly pure it is when unopposed.

  I reach up and take his hand in mine. “Are you with me on that? Or do you still hate Maelstrom for abandoning you?”

  He winces. “Can it be both for now?”

  “I hope so.” I wish the ground would open up and swallow me so I could leave this world on a high note instead of facing the terrifying truth of what lies ahead. “Shit. How does this work? The void here is like quicksand, Daniel. If I’m Ava enough to convince Lachlan he can trust me, I’ll get sucked back in. And if I’m not, if he sees that I’m lying—”

  “Then sink.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Daniel pulls a leaf from my hair and crouches in front of me. “You’re right. You’re too close to him for this to work if you’re lying. You have to let yourself go back to being what he wants you to be.”

  “But I can’t risk losing myself. Not when I’ve just found you.”

  “You won’t.” He looks deep into my eyes. His are as cold and predatory as ever, but that’s just his nature. There’s certainty in them, too, and a place to rest my hope. “You have found me, even though I didn’t know I was lost.
I’m here now.” He rests one hand against the side of my face. “I’m sorry you had to come this far alone, but I’m here now. We’re in this together. You can let go. Slip back into the dream. If you lose yourself, I promise I’ll find you.”

  I lean into the cool comfort of his touch. “You won’t get lost again?”

  “I’m under a lot less scrutiny than you are right now, and Lachlan is usually content to ignore me. Let me hold on for both of us, just until it’s safe.” His thumb moves slowly over my cheekbone. It’s not like when Lachlan touched me. Not possessive. “I remember now what I’ll lose if anything happens to you. I’d forced myself to forget how different I feel when we’re together. Stronger, somehow. I’m not going to lose you again.”

  My stomach turns at the thought of what we could both lose, but I nod. “That still leaves us with a couple of problems. I know you’re better off not knowing what happened before I came here—”

  “Infinitely,” he agrees.

  “But you need to know that Tempest is planning to invade Maelstrom. Long story short, Viktor was Tempest’s contact—”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “—and he was trying to get rid of Miranda so he could take over on Lachlan’s behalf. Lachlan seems to think there’s some unique source of void power in Maelstrom. He wants access to it, and he wants to destroy every other power that flows from the island. I upset their plans for a quiet takeover, but Bethany herself said they’ve got something else in the works. You don’t happen to know what Plan B is, do you?”

  “Haven’t heard a whisper about it, but I’m sure it won’t be hard to find out. Lachlan trusts me implicitly, after all.” Daniel’s rueful smile lacks even a hint of his usual confidence, but it’s the most genuine one I’ve seen from him since I got here. “I’ll start poking around and see what I can find.”

  I resist the urge to tell him to be careful. He’s always careful, except when he decides something is important enough to throw caution out the window. I have no right to tell him how to approach this when I’m the one who’s drawn him into danger.

  He parts the willow’s branches to look out into the garden, then ducks back in for another kiss. I pull him closer, drinking in as much of him as I can before he pulls away.

  It’s not enough. I don’t think it ever will be.

  He closes his eyes, focusing, and his hard, emotionless mask slips back into place. Still, one corner of his mouth quirks upward as he speaks again. “Aviva?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t love you, you know. Never have. Never will. Not for the rest of my time in this world.”

  It’s hard to find my voice. “Likewise.”

  He heads toward the shed, presumably searching for an excuse for having come back to the garden.

  I’ll give him time to get away before I leave.

  I know I need to forget this, get my head on straight, and stop acting like a smitten teenager. I have my own mask to put on, and I will. Soon.

  But for the next few minutes, I think I’ll rest in the silence of the garden, savouring the sweetest lie anyone has ever told me.

  20

  Becoming Ava again feels like putting on wet clothes—repulsive at first, but once I’ve let my mind shift back into this place, I’ll forget the discomfort.

  And this is what troubles me. Ava is as real as Aviva. She is me. Not the version of myself that I want to become, but the one who might survive this mission. So I slip slowly back into her, now seeing Tempest’s sinister undertones but appreciating them instead of fearing them, knowing that they are mine as surely as any of the beauty is.

  I have a lifeline now—a safety net. I can lose my balance.

  I just need to let it happen.

  My indirect search for Lachlan takes me to the dining room, where I pause before a painting on the wall—a house in the countryside. Technically good in most respects, but there’s something off about the play of light and shadow that betrays just how far removed the artist was from that bright and sunny world. It gives the image an uncanny quality, at least for now. In time, I suppose I’ll forget sunlight, too.

  And this is where I find my connection to Ava, who understands that this change will be no loss. What is that bright, garish world compared to what I feel under the stars?

  My skin prickles as a different sensation reaches me. Lachlan doesn’t announce himself, but his energy crackles around him like the atmosphere before a lightning strike. I don’t think he’s angry at me, but something’s got him on edge.

  I wait for his usual questions that ask deeper things than they seem to on the surface: Do I miss the sun? Would I go back to that world? Does Randolph’s art please me? But tonight, it seems, is not for gentle probing and subtle tests of honesty.

  “Well?” he asks.

  I glance at him, then back at the painting. “It’s done.” I let the experiences of the first half of my graveyard visit come to mind, shutting out everything that came after. “It was strange, being around so many dead humans who were so unlike me. And seeing that name on a grave—she was me, but it all felt so distant. So foolish. I couldn’t remember what I was clinging to. I’m not who I was when I came here.”

  “Good. We may need your help soon, and there won’t be any room for hesitation or doubt.”

  There’s nothing in his voice that gives away the gravity of that statement. It’s his energy that does it—swirling, agitated, stomping against the ground like a horse waiting for the order to charge into battle. We may need your help means it’s time to test my weapon.

  I freeze, a rabbit in the brush that isn’t sure whether the fox on the path has spotted her yet.

  He knows something.

  “Did anything unusual happen before you left Maelstrom?”

  And suddenly I am more fully Ava than I’ve ever been—not only in memory and thought but in motivation and morals. Honesty means nothing except for survival, and the truth exists only to be twisted into what I want it to be. My old memories fade. Only what serves me in this moment is real.

  The truth is a tool, and with it I will shape my future.

  My lips pull into a thin smile as I turn to him, and it’s the half-amused expression of someone who’s in no danger. “There was that whole issue of me being arrested and nearly executed.”

  He stands with his arms crossed, looking down at me. “Larger clan events.”

  Ava’s mind—my mind—dances through thoughts that swirl like a snowstorm, following the wind only where it blows most favourably. “I was locked in a solitary cell after my arrest. The human they brought in for my last meal wasn’t much of a source of information.” I lower my gaze. “Miranda was never really one for sharing information or plans with me even at the best of times.”

  It’s not going to be enough. When he questions me more deeply, when the truth comes out and he realizes I’ve managed to deceive him…

  Bethany enters before he has a chance to make my fears reality. It’s only delaying the inevitable, but I’m so grateful I could hug her.

  “I just got your message,” she tells Lachlan, barely acknowledging me. “The problem is—”

  Lachlan cuts her off with a sharp nod in my direction. “She’s ready to see more. We need to move. Now.”

  “Of—of course.” Bethany turns to me. “Go on ahead. I’ll meet you at my workroom.”

  I hurry out without question. I know what Lachlan said with that look. He may be pleased with my progress, he may need to use me, but whatever Bethany was about to say isn’t for my ears. Not yet.

  Grateful as I am for the unexpected exit from an uncomfortable conversation, I linger outside the doorway, quieting my void power as Gideon taught me in the hopes that even Bethany will think I’ve followed orders. Not for Maelstrom’s sake, of course. This is self-interest. Information is power, and Ava isn’t interested in being denied even a scrap of it, especially when it could hurt her.

  “Well?” Lachlan asks, speaking so quietly I have to strain to hea
r.

  “Still no word, but I’m not sure we should be concerned yet. Viktor was confident in his plans. We agreed he wouldn’t risk contact until everything was in place.”

  The void in Lachlan burns like cold fire. “Viktor is not my primary concern. Their entire clan has gone silent.”

  Bethany hesitates. “Our sources have never been entirely—”

  “Even secondary sources know nothing.” Lachlan is practically growling. “Other clans are in the dark as much as we are. Something has happened.”

  His voice is coming closer. I hurry away, the faint scuff of my toes against the floor filling my head like the ticking of a clock counting the seconds until everything falls apart.

  Bethany unlocks the workroom door without a word to me and scans the space as she enters. I don’t see anything strange, but she tenses.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Something’s off.” She walks around the perimeter of the room, touching the perfectly aligned jars on the wall, running her fingers over the counters. My mouth goes dry as she approaches the fireplace, the chair beside it, and the leather-bound notes on the table.

  Bethany picks up the book and flips through it.

  “My bookmark’s wrong,” she says, frowning down at the page.

  I seat myself on a stool and rest one arm on the counter in what feels like the most contrived casual pose in history. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m old, not dull,” she says quietly. “I had this book out a few nights ago to look up a specific result and add follow-up notes. Lachlan interrupted me. I placed the ribbon to mark the page I wanted to come back to, but haven’t had time. This is wrong.” She rubs the ribbon between her fingers. “And bent, no less.”

  “Who else comes in here?”

  “Just the cleaner.”

  “Maybe they knocked the book over and didn’t know which page to mark when they put it back.” I approach and look over her shoulder. “What were you working on?”

  She doesn’t answer right away.

  I force my mind to go blank save for the question I’ve asked. It helps. I feel calmer, as if there’s no reality other than one where I had nothing to do with this situation.