by Lexi C. Foss
She beamed. “I did. I keep stealing his to practice, but now I have my own.” She practically melted against him, her excitement palpable.
Issac shook his head, while Stas’s father nodded in approval. “That’s a good series.” He started discussing one he owned in the same brand while Jayson handed Lizzie a ribbon-adorned bag beside them.
“Merry Christmas, Red,” he murmured, a devious twinkle in his gaze.
She narrowed her eyes. “Is this family-appropriate?”
He smirked. “Yes, sweetheart. Now open the bag.”
She gave him a doubtful look and peeked under the paper, her lips pulling into a frown. It took her a moment to undo all the ribbons, Jayson grinning the whole time, and she pulled out a binder. January first with the coming year’s date was inscribed on the cover.
Lizzie turned the page and her lips parted. A ring glinted in the light with a ribbon strung through it, securing the item to the page. “Jayson,” she breathed.
“Don’t stop now,” he murmured. “Flip the page.”
She did—to a wedding invitation with next week’s date on it.
Tears welled in Stas’s eyes at what this signified.
The following page was a ceremony itinerary. The subsequent pages contained a seating map, a food menu, floral arrangements, the beverage chart, and a list of wedding-appropriate songs.
“You planned everything,” she whispered, her nails trailing over the page.
“All except the dress,” he replied. “But there’s a team meeting us in Hydria this weekend for you to pick a gown. They’re bringing bridesmaid dresses, too, assuming you want Stas in the wedding.” His eyes lifted to Stas, happiness radiating from his features as Lizzie burst into tears on his lap. He smiled and shook his head. “These hormones are killing me, Red.”
“Me, too,” she said on a sob. She turned to bury her face in his neck, attracting everyone’s attention to the happy couple beside Stas.
Issac squeezed her hand, his lips curling with amusement.
“What did I miss?” Amelia asked, the firearm safely tucked back into a box.
“Jayson just surprised Lizzie with their wedding arrangements,” Balthazar said, his brown eyes gleaming proudly. “That’s why he asked me to cancel the New Year’s Eve bachelor party.”
Luc nodded. “I see. I accept that reason.”
“I do, too,” Balthazar replied.
“Lizzie and Jayson are getting married?” Stas’s mom asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t even know they were engaged.”
“It’s a recent development,” Issac replied, his thumb drawing circles against Stas’s wrist.
“Oh, you have to open your gift!” Lizzie tried to grab it, but Balthazar was already there, handing it to her. He winked at whatever she told him via her mind.
Jayson toyed with the bow, making a show of being slow until Lizzie cleared her throat. He chuckled and finished ripping the box open to reveal a dozen chocolate chip cookies. “Ah, cookies, Red? It’s like you know me.”
“Eat one,” she encouraged, causing him to raise a brow. “Go on, try it.”
“All right.” He selected one from the middle and started to put the whole thing in his mouth, but Lizzie grabbed his wrist.
“Just a bite.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought you wanted me to eat the cookie.”
“I do, but just try it first.”
He appeared doubtful but did as she asked, and stared at the item in his hand. “It’s pink.”
She smiled. “I know.”
Stas’s lips curled down, not understanding why… Oh. Her eyes widened. Oh!
“But why would….?” His lips parted. “It’s… it’s…” His gaze misted with tears, his heart in his eyes. “Oh, it’s a girl?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Balthazar was grinning so widely. Amelia, too.
“That’s what you were busy baking yesterday,” Issac said just as Stas thought it.
Both of them nodded, their focus on the embracing couple.
“She’s pregnant, too?” Stas’s mom loudly whispered to Tom.
He just nodded, his own emotions keeping him from speaking. It looked like he’d just opened a gift from Amelia before Lizzie and Jayson exchanged their presents. Stas saw a copy of a recently released movie, a Yankees cap, a New York–style pizza key chain, a toy motorcycle, and a few other random items that must have held some secret meaning between Amelia and Tom.
“So what do you say, Red. Will you marry me next week?” Jayson asked, the ring now in his hand.
Lizzie nodded, her smile bigger than Stas had ever seen it. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
He slid the ring over her finger and kissed her soundly, clearly not caring at all who was watching.
Issac brushed his lips over Stas’s temple. “Be right back.”
He crept over to the tree to retrieve a bag with Amelia’s name on it, as well as a gift for Aidan and one for Tristan. He handed them out, then gave a fourth to Lucian and a final one to her parents before joining her again.
They all opened their presents at the same time.
A bottle of brandy for Aidan.
Red wine for Tristan that Stas guessed was laced with blood because he opened it and poured himself a glass.
“Canada’s finest. Excellent,” Luc said, eyeing the large glass container of maple syrup he’d just unwrapped.
Plane tickets and a hotel reservation for Stas’s parents—in Greece. Which earned Issac a side-glance from her. He merely smiled. “We’ll meet them in Athens for a week in the spring.”
They were in the middle of gushing over the items when Amelia began to cry in earnest. Issac turned to her with a sad smile. “We always exchanged ornaments every year, even as children,” he explained softly. “I never stopped collecting them.”
“Issac.” Her voice broke as she stood. He was there before she could take a step, his arms around her, his lips at her ear. Whatever he whispered only made her cry harder.
Stas’s parents glanced around them, their confusion almost ruining the moment, but not quite.
Everyone around her was so happy, even through the tears.
Stas wanted to smile.
She tried.
But inside all she felt was hollow.
Because while everyone else could have their happily-ever-after, she would never have hers, and seeing all these exchanges just drove that point home so much harder.
Jayson and Lizzie were completely in their own little world, joyous in the occasion, so madly in love and about to have a baby girl.
Issac had his sister back after seven years of agony. Aidan had his daughter.
Tom was alive, the love of his life standing before him and thriving.
While Stas’s stood at arm’s length, unable to truly embrace her because of life’s cruelty.
She tried to ignore the pain burning along her skin, centering in her heart, but it overwhelmed her mind.
Tristan met her gaze, his eyebrow cocked. I told you so, seemed to settle between them.
And she hated him for that. Hated that he couldn’t see how much this hurt them both, how much she wanted this to work, how much she loved his best friend.
But all he did was smirk and look away.
Because he knew the guilt had finally won, and when Issac glanced back at her, he saw it, too. His expression fell as he gave a slight shake of his. Not yet.
But when? she wanted to ask, her soul splitting in two.
How can something so right be so wrong? How many times had she thought that over the last two months?
It wasn’t fair.
Life wasn’t fair.
He knelt before her, his gaze strong. “No, Aya.”
“When, Issac?” she whispered, unable to bear this much longer, her forehead falling to his.
God, this wasn’t the day to realize their fate. She knew that. The holidays were meant to be filled with love and joy and happiness, not this heart-wr
enching pain destroying her inside.
“There’s another gift under the tree,” Balthazar was saying, his voice barely piercing the beating drum in her ears.
Issac’s palms were on her cheeks. “Not yet, love.”
“But when?” she repeated, her voice cracking.
“It’s for Stas,” Balthazar said.
What? She’d already opened all her gifts. Her parents had bought her socks and clothes, as they always did. Aidan had given her a pretty scarf. Amelia had given her Argentinian chocolates, claiming they were the best in the world. Lizzie and Stas had agreed not to exchange gifts.
So who was left?
The red package dropped into her lap, Issac still kneeling before her with his heart in his eyes. “This isn’t from you, right?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, not from me.”
The package just said Stas in a masculine scrawl.
She fingered the edges, uncertain.
Who is it from, B? she asked, her gaze flicking to him.
He shook his head, saying he didn’t know, either.
From no one here? she thought, frowning.
She stroked the finely wrapped item, the pattern oddly familiar. A memory flashed to her childhood, someone handing her a gift. Red feathers.
Gone in a blink.
Odd.
She tore through the paper to reveal a frame, one she recognized from her dreams.
A photo of her with her birth parents.
Her mother staring adoringly at her father with Stas nestled between them holding an angel doll with white, fluffy wings.
This was taken shortly before their deaths. Maybe a month before.
Her lips parted, shock overwhelming her. Everything had been destroyed in the house fire. Including this.
But it wasn’t burnt at all, the frame still a beautiful bronze, etched with feathers.
“Aya?” Issac moved to her side, his hand curling around her wrist as he studied the photo with her.
“It’s my parents,” she breathed, her voice barely registering to her own ears.
“Sethios,” he murmured, tracing the dark-haired male she only saw in her dreams. “I don’t recognize the woman.”
“My mom,” she whispered. “Caroline.” Or Caro, as Osiris had called her.
The room had gone still around them.
“What is it, Stas?” her adoptive mother asked.
“A photo of us,” Issac replied for her. “May I?” He gestured to her gift, his intention clear.
Stas nodded mutely, unable to speak, her heart in her throat.
Her demon lifted the item, his gift causing the rune on her back to flare to life. He was manipulating the visual for the others, or perhaps just her parents.
A card caught her eye, taped to the back of the picture frame.
Beside it was a red feather shifting in and out of focus, reminding her of a hologram.
“Issac,” she whispered. “Do you see that?”
“The card?”
She swallowed, shaking her head. “No, the feather.”
He frowned. “No, darling. Only a card.”
She blinked but it was still there.
Issac slowly lifted the paper beside it to reveal a note that stopped her heart.
* * *
Soon, Stas. I promise.
Love always,
Gabriel
15
Stas
“The sun is glorious in the afterlife, painting the sky in shades I never noticed during mortality. Waking to this sight is a gift of life, a miracle, not a burden.”
—Issac Wakefield
Vita mutatur, non tollitur
Jayson really outdid himself. Tropical flowers decorated the path to the beach, where several rows of chairs sat vacant in the black sand. More floral arrangements adorned the backs, with dark pink ribbons, some splashes of white, and seashell embellishments.
And the altar framed by the sea behind it… It took Stas’s breath away.
She stood taking it all in, her heart in her throat.
It’s perfect.
Tranquil, secluded, and bathed in the sounds of rolling waves. Stas never wanted a wedding, but this almost made her yearn for one. Almost.
A hot palm slid around her waist to rest on her abdomen as a sturdy chest pressed into her back. She melted against the familiar warmth, craving his heat. January in Hydria might be more temperate than New York City, but the beach held a slight chill that scattered goose bumps down her exposed arms and legs.
“Lizzie is going to cry,” she whispered.
“I know.” The two words were against her ear. “Thomas has several handkerchiefs for the occasion.”
Stas smiled. As Lizzie had no family to speak of, Tom had offered to walk her down the aisle. It seemed appropriate for his big-brother role in her life.
“This dress is gorgeous, Aya.” Issac kissed her neck, igniting butterflies in her stomach. They’d kept their physical distance after the near-biting incident last week. It only left her craving him more, and if the reaction she felt against her backside was any indication, he felt the same way.
“It’s pink,” Stas said, concentrating on a safe topic—her dress. “But I like the material.”
“Hmm, and I like the length.” The hand not on her stomach met her exposed thigh, sliding up beneath the fabric. “It displays your legs beautifully.”
“You would be focused on that.” She turned in his arms, which was a mistake.
Issac in a suit almost left her speechless.
Issac in a full tuxedo? Well, that just left her unable to think at all.
He even had on a bow tie.
I wonder if he’ll let me remove that with my teeth later.
“You’re staring,” he murmured, his lips curling at the edges.
No point in replying to that because obviously she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She traced the handwoven silk of his jacket, indulging in the rich texture, down to his waist and the belt around his hips.
I’d rather remove that…
“Shall we skip the ceremony?” he asked innocently, his hand catching her wrist as her fingers slid across his lower abdomen. “Head back up to Balthazar’s house instead?”
That was where they were staying while all the living arrangements were sorted on the island. While Balthazar and Issac may bicker like brothers, there was definitely a bond between them—something that came to fruition when Balthazar offered them the guest suite in his home. Aidan and his harem were staying with Lucian.
“Lizzie would kill me,” she finally replied after thinking about his offer. It would be so tempting to lose herself for a few hours in his touch.
But that was exactly what couldn’t happen.
Not after last week.
And they both knew it.
She met his sapphire gaze on a sigh. “I miss you, Issac.”
“I’m right here, love.”
“You know what I mean.”
His smile was sad as he cupped her cheek, his forehead resting against hers. No words, just gentle understanding and a myriad of unspoken words and emotions flowing between them.
Not yet.
When?
Just not yet.
I can’t live without you.
I love you.
We have all the time in the world to figure this out.
I know.
What if we don’t?
That’s not an option.
Maybe the conversation was all in her head, but she swore his voice infiltrated her thoughts on a few of those replies.
Or maybe she was losing her mind.
After that gift from the mysterious Gabriel, she’d been a mess. No one could see the red feather. Yet it sat on the dresser in her shared quarters with Issac, no longer flickering. The silky texture reminded her of dreams long forgotten, one where her father had described her mother’s wings.
Except that dream was starting to feel like a memory, one that had been repressed for n
early twenty years.
And with that realization came more, rendering her confused and alone. She told Issac everything, speculating long into the twilight hours every night and coming up with no answers.
The Elders recognized Gabriel as the shell corporation that funded Owen’s bar, suggesting a link between the two. But who—or what—was Gabriel?
And why am I the only one who can see the feather?
“Eliza is looking for you,” Issac whispered. “It seems she and Amelia have finished with Elizabeth’s makeup and hair, and they want to do photos with the maid of honor.”
“This is all so surreal,” Stas marveled. “My best friend is getting married today to an immortal of three-thousand-plus years.”
“She’s also pregnant with what might be a variation of a Seraphim,” he added helpfully.
“Minor detail.” Stas laughed and shook her head. “A year ago, I knew nothing about this world, and now…” It’s everything. My life. My purpose. My world.
“I know.” He brushed his lips over hers softly, tenderly. “I’ll see you during the ceremony.” Another kiss, this one lingering. “Save me a dance afterward.” Not a question, but a command, one that caused her lips to twitch at the sides.
“You’re supposed to ask, not demand.”
“Amelia would be so disappointed,” he teased. “Promise me anyway.”
Her heart soared with the playful nature of his tone, the way he taunted her in private when no one else was near. “You can have all my dances, always.”
Happiness radiated from his features, his fingers curling around the back of her neck. “Mmm, I may just hold you to that, Aya.”
“I hope you do.”
His mouth captured hers, sealing off her need for air and filling her with his energy and life. Her soul wept for him, longed for more, urged her to finish something she couldn’t quite define.
And then he released her.
“I really do love that dress.” The devious twinkle in his gaze had her glancing downward at her skewed neckline. It revealed far too much of her breasts from this angle.
She fixed the halter top while he watched, and gave him a reproachful stare. “Behave.”
