by Lexi C. Foss
“I love you, too.” The tears were back in Jayson’s eyes and his voice, but so was his smile. So much worship and devotion that no one would ever be able to question how he felt. Because it was written in the way he looked at Lizzie, just as it was obvious in the way she gazed up at him.
He didn’t wait for Luc to make it official, his mouth claiming Lizzie’s in a heated moment that left the audience awwing at the sight.
“Well, I suppose that’s it, then,” Luc said, his dimples flashing. “As you’ve already kissed your bride, I now pronounce you Jayson and Elizabeth, husband and wife.”
They didn’t stop kissing or acknowledge the round of applause surrounding them, too lost in each other, their love, their future. One they would cherish forever. Nothing standing in their way. An everlasting partnership.
Stas smiled through her own emotions, happy to her very soul for her best friend while feeling utterly broken inside. Because she wanted this with Issac. Everything had always been so limited between them, an expiration date looming over their heads. And while they’d fought it for months, it would inevitably end.
“Walk with me.” Balthazar’s voice came from beside her as he held out his elbow to escort her back up the aisle behind a retreating Lizzie and Jayson. The bride hadn’t even thought to grab her bouquet, too lost in her elation to realize Stas still held it.
“Love makes us blind,” Balthazar said, responding to her thoughts.
Stas threaded her arm through his without a word. He knew everything. Her broken heart. Her frustrations. Her fury at fate. Her concern over what the future held.
What would happen when Issac found someone else?
Would he have a wedding such as this?
Don’t be ridiculous, she chastised herself. Issac wasn’t the marrying type. And more than that, what they had between them ran far too deep, to the depths of their beings. Stas knew with every breath she’d never find another like Issac. He was her only, her everything.
If I ever lost him… She bit her lip, focusing on her steps as Balthazar guided her blindly up the aisle.
“I cherished someone once, many, many years ago,” her escort said, quiet, for her ears alone. “Some might even say I loved her. I was young, not even a hundred years old, but she reached a part of me few others have ever touched. And she was perfect in every way. Gorgeous, salacious, adventurous. I’ve not thought about her in some time, but I’ve found myself reliving our final moments a lot lately. Mainly because I fear you’ll end up in a similar situation and I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone in the world.”
They reached the end, but he kept walking, his arm holding hers with ease as they wove a path away from the party along the shoreline. “What was her name?” Stas wondered, her gaze on the setting sun over the horizon and the beautiful colors painting the evening sky.
“Nythos,” he murmured. “I’ve not said that name out loud in centuries, maybe even a thousand years.” Reminiscence filled his tone, giving him a somber glow that Balthazar rarely exuded.
“This isn’t a happy story, is it?”
He shook his head sadly. “No, it’s not. It’s a tragedy.”
They continued walking in silence, Balthazar’s gaze taking on a faraway gleam that touched Stas’s heart. The flirtatious male with suggestive comments had disappeared behind a mask of sorrow and pain, his emotions palpable even unspoken.
“You don’t need to talk about it,” she told him. Especially not tonight, not while everyone should be celebrating. He was the best man, she the maid of honor. Surely there was a better time than now.
“On the contrary, it’s the perfect moment,” he replied, clearly listening to her thoughts. “My best friend of several millennia has just decided to spend an eternity in monogamy. Part of me envies him, while the other part is wary. I’ve seen so much, experienced true loss, and I don’t want to see that for him or anyone else I care about. And, Stas, that includes you and Issac, too.” He finally stopped walking, turning to face her. “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”
She could see in his eyes that he meant it. “I know.”
“Nythos was killed in retaliation to something I did, but not after indulging in a little blood play with Aidan. She became the first made Ichorian, teaching us quite a bit about immortal rebirth. We thought she might be a Hydraian at first; of course, we didn’t have that term yet. But she was an Ichorian of Aidan’s line. And none of us knew the impact of Hydraian blood at the time.”
Oh no… She could see why he’d chosen this story before he even finished.
“She bit me, Stas,” he finished, confirming what she already suspected. “She died in my arms.”
Stas’s heart stopped, the pain in his expression halting her breath. And the reality of what he was telling her carving a hole in her very soul.
“I know you love him,” he continued. “We all do, but you most of all. I would never want you to experience what I went through that day. To be honest, I’m not sure you’d survive it.”
She swallowed, her stomach twisting in knots. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to say goodbye to him.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He pulled her into his arms, his chin resting atop her head. “I’m not saying you have to, but you need to be careful. I can hear the urges between you. The fight is palpable, and it scares me. For you both.”
“He almost bit me last week.”
“I’m aware.”
“But we’ve not…” We’ve been celibate ever since.
“Yes.” He ran his hand over her back, lending her the comfort she so badly craved.
“I hate this, B. I hate it so much.”
“I know, sweetheart, and I wish I could do something for you. I really do.”
Of course he did. He heard her every thought, which was why he walked her away from the party, to give her a moment to collect her thoughts. And also to let her know he understood, in his own way.
She let the tears fall, her fists in his jacket. The need to strike something overwhelmed her, to scream, to curse, to let out the furious energy building inside her. It wasn’t fair. None of this. And she despised it, loathed every fucking second.
They stood like that for several minutes, his arms around her, the waves rolling over the sand, the air cooling from the disappearing sun. Soon the glow of candles from the reception would be their only source of light besides the moon. A romantic evening to celebrate the union of two worthy souls, one of whom was her best friend.
Stas needed to be strong, supportive, give Lizzie the night she deserved.
“Let Jayson manage that,” Balthazar whispered. “Take the evening, enjoy it with Issac. There’s always tomorrow, Stas.” He pulled back to cup her cheek. “You have an eternity. All I’m saying is, don’t rush it and be careful. And if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. All right?”
She nodded, releasing him and stepping back to drag her thumbs beneath her damp eyes. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re gorgeous,” he replied smoothly, his gaze twinkling. “You always are, and I believe there’s someone here who would agree with me on that front.”
“Indeed.” Issac’s voice came from several feet away where he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, his burning gaze filled with questions.
Balthazar smirked. “If that were my goal, Wakefield, she’d already be naked.” He winced at whatever reply Issac leveled at him, or perhaps it was an image of some sort. “Yes, I should be returning to the party now. Otherwise, Jacque will put on gothic metal, and I doubt Lizzie will approve.”
Stas chuckled. “No, she definitely won’t.”
He winked at her and chucked her beneath the chin. “You know where to find me.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He saluted Issac as he strolled past. “All yours.”
Issac said nothing, his gaze on Stas, hands still tucked into his pants.
She blew out a breath. “The ceremony left me
feeling emotional. He was just giving me a moment to collect myself.”
“You don’t need to explain, Aya. I trust you.”
“Do you?” Because she really wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Especially around a male like Balthazar, one renowned for seduction and bedding every person in his path.
“Yes.” He moved into her space, close enough to touch, but not quite. “When I didn’t see you afterward, I wondered if you were all right. Balthazar showed me where he’d taken you.”
“He did?”
Issac nodded. “Are you all right, love?”
She started to bob her head, then stopped, shaking it slowly from side to side. “No. I’m not. Not even a little bit.”
His arms opened just in time to catch her as she stepped into him, her head going to his chest. Balthazar had offered her a semblance of comfort, but Issac… Issac felt like home. Her home. Her safe place. Her haven.
He said nothing as he held her, already aware of her troublesome thoughts. It felt as if they were on repeat, constantly, killing her with every moment. And she knew he had to be experiencing the same.
This agony.
Insecurity.
Heartache.
His lips were in her hair, kissing her softly, grounding her to him, reminding her why she’d chosen to fight. But her future refused to agree. How could she battle fate?
“Do you want to retire early?” he asked softly.
“I don’t think that’ll help.”
“Then how about an evening of wine and dancing?” he offered. “On the beach, beneath the stars, without a thought of tomorrow. It seems the right way to celebrate your birthday, yes?”
She started, lifting her head. “My birthday?”
“You thought I forgot?”
“With all the festivities… I barely even considered it. Does it even count anymore?” She was immortal, forever twenty-four. Why bother?
He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean we can’t indulge a little bit, yes?”
She withdrew from him just enough to meet his gaze. “You didn’t get me a gift, did you?”
“Of course I did. But it’s back in the room.”
She groaned. “Issac, you’ve already given me too much.”
“I’d argue I’ve hardly given you anything at all.”
Stas’s lips flattened. “I’m not a materialistic person.”
“Who said it’s a materialistic present?” he countered.
She twisted her mouth to the side, considering. All right. Now that intrigued her. “Now I want to retire early.”
He tsked. “That’s too bad, as you’ve already agreed to dancing on the beach, and if I recall, you promised me all your dances as well.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Why do I feel like I was tricked into this agreement?”
“Perhaps because I’m a master of words and compromises.”
“Or just a devious enigma capable of always obtaining what he wants, no matter the situation.”
His adorable dimples appeared, devastating her female senses. He really should not be allowed to smile. Ever. It was dangerous to women—and men—everywhere. “A clever description. I approve.”
She stole a deep breath, suppressing the need burning inside her. One look and he had her ready to lie out naked on the beach, consequences be damned. And he wasn’t even trying. “Dancing sounds good,” she decided, needing the distraction.
His knowing gaze said he saw right through her, fully aware of his impact on her. “Allow me to lead, my lady.” He held out his hand.
“Oh, is this the part where I call you Your Highness?” Stas recently learned about Issac’s family ancestry. His father was a duke, making Issac the Duke of Wakefield after his father passed. Stas had yet to tease him about it, but now seemed as good a time as any.
“Technically, it’s Your Grace, and no. You will not call me that.”
“And if I do, Your Grace?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him coquettishly.
He narrowed his gaze. “I’ll be forced to punish you.”
“This sounds enlightening. Please elaborate, Your Grace.”
He looked her over, his stare assessing. “You want to play, darling?”
She smiled. “Always.”
“Then we’ll play.” He held out his hand. “Call me whatever nickname you desire. I dare you.”
Her skin heated as she accepted his palm, her stomach clenching for an entirely different reason than earlier. Just the distraction I need. “Introduce me to your history, Your Grace. Dance with me like you did centuries ago.”
“We’ll need to improvise with the modern music,” he murmured, guiding her back toward the party. “But I accept the challenge.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Then take me dancing, Duke Wakefield.”
“Happily, Lady Aya.”
17
Stas
“Aidan warned me that society events would lose their appeal. After attending the annual Wellington Ball, I confess that he may be right on that matter. It’s all pomp and circumstance that admires wealth and beauty above all else. I desire more from this mundane world…”
—Issac Wakefield
Vita mutatur, non tollitur
“Okay, okay, I give,” Stas said as Issac whirled her back into his arms for the thousandth time. “My feet need a break.”
“Ah, but in my time, we would dance for hours on end, nonstop, as it provided the only semblance of foreplay.” He pulled her flush against him, his thigh between hers. “I thought you wanted a proper old-fashioned seduction?”
“And I do, but I need a break.”
His sapphire gaze twinkled in the moonlight. “Astasiya Davenport, are you attempting to woo me away from the party to entice me in private?” He sounded so aghast that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“God, you really were a duke.”
“Indeed.” He nuzzled her cheek. “Technically, I still am since I never died.”
“Did no one ever question your dukedom?”
“Ah, the benefits of living during a time with no electronic records. It was far easier to manipulate the financial system and pass on family estates. Most of my investments were funded through land sales, but I do still own quite a bit of property in Southern England, through various corporations and such.”
“More than Wakefield Pharmaceuticals?”
“That’s just my current cover, love.” He spun her again, bringing her back hard against him, his lips at her ear. “One day, I’ll show you everything. If you’re interested.”
She was. Very. Not because she wanted his money, but his manipulation of the system fascinated her. “I—”
“Stop,” a deep voice to their left snapped.
Luc had Eliza by the shoulders, her glower and flushed cheeks indicating some sort of heated debate.
Several others noticed the altercation near the side of the dance floor, but many just continued enjoying their evening, swaying along to the beats Jacque wove through the air. Jayson and Lizzie were in the center, Balthazar beside them with several others. Alik was nowhere to be seen, his disinterest in social gatherings clear.
Amelia lounged with Tom, Aidan, Anya, and Clara at a nearby table, all chatting over their glasses of wine. Stas smiled at them, feeling slightly envious as her feet screamed at her for still standing. But this had been her idea, after all. Or was it Issac’s? She could hardly remember.
“I really need to sit down,” she told him. At least she’d ditched her heels before treading barefoot into the sand.
“All right, Lady Davenport. If you—”
A pop to the left startled them apart.
What the fuck was that?
A bad speaker? No, the music still played, drowning out the sound for many on the floor. But Issac heard it, too, his focus on their surroundings.
The hairs along her arms danced. Someone’s coming. She tried to lock on the source but couldn’t find them, the energy around them too chaotic.
Anoth
er shot cracked through the air, eliciting a shout from Luc as Eliza crumpled in his arms.
Everyone started moving, the Guardians forming protective rings around their respective Elders as mayhem erupted on the beach.
Issac yanked Stas into a crouch beside him, his gaze searching as Hydraians ran toward the waterline.
Rapid-fire shots sliced through the night and the first line of defense, embers floating in their wake, igniting the night in flames. Stas’s nightmares threatened to rise, her memories sparking to the surface.
A bullet taking Daddy to his knees. Mommy screaming in agony, writhing on the ground. Stas wanted to help but didn’t know how.
Then red feathers appeared at her side, taking—
Not now! She stole a deep breath through her nose, focusing on the present, scanning her current surroundings.
Fatigues.
An army.
Sentinels.
Dotting the beach, running toward the party, firing their pistols without care for whom they hit.
“They’re blocking us somehow!” Balthazar shouted.
“I know!” Issac returned from beside her.
A block?
Like a rune?
She frowned. Had Doctor Fitzgerald perfected the Sentinel technology enough to withstand Hydraian and Ichorian gifts?
“Heads up,” Jacque announced, dropping weapons before them and disappearing in a flash.
Luc was already there, picking up a gun and taking aim, Balthazar by his side, their Guardians around them.
Lizzie…
Stas swung around to see her cowering behind an enraged Jayson, another row of protective Hydraians in front of them. Jayson seemed focused, his gaze ignited with power.
He’s trying to manipulate the metal.
Is it working?
Stas followed the line of his sight, to the twisting gun in a Sentinel’s hand. It fell to the sand, his hand already holding another that fired with ease.
