by Ruby Raine
Wishes didn't equal reality.
The unknown knotted her insides as she swept to the doorway of the study and watched him moving about. But he stilled as she slid into the room. Not that William hadn't known she was closing in on him. But it was their first real moment alone since he'd returned. He'd sensed she needed the space and time, just like she had with him. But they couldn't put this off forever. Whatever this was. And that was the undying question that lingered heavily in the unsettled air between them.
Melinda decided something then. This would have to be William's choice. He'd need to make his claim on her like she had on him. Yes, she'd fight for him. For his humanity. And even if it wasn't irreversible, she'd fight to be with him however that worked out. But he had to decide he wanted it. That he wanted her. She was aware straight down to her bones that he did, but revealing it during a drug induced detox haze was one thing—revealing and accepting it in real life, well, that was all that mattered most. And he already knew how she felt about him. She'd made it quite clear she was all in.
"How's it going out there?" he asked with a gentle smile.
"No change. Although, you'll be happy to hear that Annie's fitting right in. I like her. I think we're all falling a little in love with her. And she's a huge help too." Melinda left off the silent—no way in hell is she going to ever replace you.
"Annie has that way about her. She puts people at ease. It's as natural as breathing for her. And unusual for our kind." Who at first meeting, most often came across as something to be afraid of. Hunters seeking prey. Both Annie and Jean were like that though. It was addictive to be around and William didn't realize how much he had missed it.
"She definitely thrives on being busy and helping out. And well, we need all the help we can get until this—whatever the heck it is—ends."
"Yes. You are correct in that assessment." William was quite glad Riley's gift had pushed their return to the Isle. "And how's Courtney doing?"
Melinda's nose twitched and she got a gleam in her eye. "Fine. She's really taking to her new self. Although, she seems to be trying to avoid Annie and is extra grumbly when she's around."
William lifted an eyebrow. He hadn't noticed that. But he'd been rather preoccupied and was more concerned with her eating habits.
Courtney had broken down, though, and explained about her coven, and Bree, her dead fiancé, and how they were murdered. She had believed by the Feyk, namely Stricker—Sir Tinkham Sickereaux. But as it turns out, the bastard was on orders from someone else. Possibly someone Courtney's coven had known and trusted. And who might still be hunting her.
They'd all promised to help, of course.
"Anyway, I'm heading back out in a bit to relieve Charlie. Lizzy's first shift, if you haven't heard...." Melinda smarted with an eyeroll, because, like, it was impossible to forget or not know this was about to happen.
William replied with a thin smile. "I still can't wrap my head around all the things that happened during my time away." His wariness sounded far too human for the vampire.
"Yeah, when you left, Charlie and Lizzy were barely even a thing, and now, mates."
William let out a low chuckle that morphed into a short sigh. It was a brilliant match and he was happy for them.
"So, New Orleans?" Melinda put out there. "Sorcier, right? Annie's told us a little about the place. Sounds kind of—incredible."
"It is a magical place. It was home once. But not—" he stopped himself, unsure how to finish that statement. He had no intentions of returning to Sorcier. However, some things had changed since his detox.
"Why didn't you ever talk about it before?" Melinda asked him.
"Sorcier became a previous life after I came here. Not a life I wanted to leave behind exactly, but this place, The Demon Isle, became my new home. I never saw any point. Although, I suppose that's not the only reason."
Melinda waited for him to explain.
"The first war, with the Deanes. The people I asked for help...."
Melinda nodded in grim understanding. "They are the friends you called in to help in the war—some of them died."
"And I never wanted to make that sort of choice again. I guess it became easier to pretend that life was something that didn't exist anymore. I never wanted to put them in danger again."
"Sometimes, we don't have a choice in that. It's what good people do for other good people, or causes." This was never clearer than tonight.
"You're right, of course. It was a shortsighted decision."
"No. It just means sometimes you're still just a little bit human." Her tone only adored that sentiment.
"And I haven't a damn clue, anymore, if that's good or bad." William released another sigh that fell off into a tense silence.
Small talk was over. But he was suddenly at a loss for words. And apparently, he was so out of it that he didn't even notice Melinda moving until her hand was sliding up his arm. He jerked his eyes to meet hers and saw in the specks of blue that there was no need for words.
Just let me love you...her wishes hadn't changed.
It also claimed screw tomorrow, or yesterday, we only have this moment. That's all that's guaranteed for any of us.
His fingers drew across her bottom lip in a gentle caress that expressed the words that refused to form. Melinda found herself leaning into him and his arms ensnared her as she laid her head against his chest. They stayed there, just like that, for what could have been forever, and yet never long enough. And Melinda would be happy to never move again.
William's grip tightened ever so little and his head came down to lean on top of Melinda's.
Them, as they should be. If only for a moment.
William found himself lost in the heartbeat flicking out against his own lifeless organ. That flutter that belonged only to him, drawing him in. But the beat became a constant gloomy reminder of what they both were. She, living and breathing with a finite end. Him, a vampire, lifeless, and yet everlasting.
Melinda sensed it more than she felt it. A stiffening of his resolve. Reality already ruining their perfect moment.
"I don't want you to waste your one human life on me." Melinda sucked in and peeled away from him. "It's not about me not loving you, or not wanting to spend a life with you, but I can't be what you deserve."
"And what about what I want?" she fired back. "And why do you get to be the one who decides what I deserve? And shit, who ever made up those damn rules anyway? Does anyone actually deserve anything? That makes it sound like we're all born with a predetermined bowl of things we either get to have, or not, like it's some guarantee. Or, we get no say in it, it's already decided. You'll take this because this is what you deserve, even if it's not what you want!"
Her fiery attack shook him out of his broody resolve.
"William, I love you. And I know you love me. But in the end, we are each responsible for our own lives, and choices, and happiness. I see my future, with you. But I need you see it too. I need you to believe in us. If you don't, or can't, then us loving each other doesn’t make a damn bit of difference."
"I want to see it, Melinda. I want to believe it."
"Then see it. Believe it can happen. Grab it and don't let go. We might fail. We might not. But isn't not even trying a thousand times worse than failing? Screw the rules. Screw the shit we're supposed to deserve. I think it's all made up drivel anyway. And look, I'm not going to give you some stupid ultimatum or something. But I need you to be all in. Or all out." It was such a Charlie thing to say. But it was honest. "I don't want you if you're not sure. I will accept whatever you decide, William. I won't argue or try to change your mind." Her eyes got watery because if he told her right now, to walk away, it might break her and render her completely broken, forever. "But just know that if you say yes, to us, that I will never give up on that future."
It was all but on William's tongue to bust through every fear, to break every rule, and say yes. But the gasp that came out of Melinda a moment later swallowed up
his answer.
"Oh my God."
William's gaze followed hers.
Her hand went to cover her mouth in shock, but William captured it and without another word folded her into his body as he vampire sped them out of the mansion and through the magical portal to the Power Source.
The crystal alarm had lit, a beacon burning in the fiery warning of doom.
Another battle was about to begin.
CHAPTER 4
SHERIFF MACKENZIE BRIGGS—MACK—LET her mouth upturn as the 911 text message came through her phone. Being the human protection for a supernatural island was becoming more work than she could handle. But never more so than because of the man sitting across the table from her ogling her like she was some movie princess, and not a sea-worn, rugged woman nearing fifty whose legs hadn't seen a razor blade since—well, this morning god dammit! But that was only after however the many hell months she'd gotten away without such trivial things.
And he was too smart, this Nethaniel Dante. Too danged smart for his own good. And it was easier to believe he'd only driven her mad about a dinner date to get closer—and try to snake some information out of her. He did own a media outlet for crying out loud!
But even as she not-so-slyly read the text from Charlie Howard, which was about to—thank the freaking powers that be—cut this monstrosity of a nightmare date short, she got the sneaking suspicion Nethaniel Dante wasn't going to let her use the work excuse to walk away so easily.
The restaurant the man had chosen was actually rather perfect—if she had to give him something. An out of the way seaside joint that was more of a local's hang, and only served beer finger foods, and fried delights. Her favorite things...but how had he known this?
It only proved her point again. He was too dang observant for his own damn good. In a place like The Demon Isle, that got people in trouble. Or on the suspicious list, at the very least.
However, according to the S.O.S. text, some serious shit was about to go down. And even though it was evening, White Pines needed to be secured and emptied of straggling tourists. She shot off a text about a rabid animal sighting to her deputy to get the ball rolling. She'd used that excuse more than once, but it worked in a pinch.
"Let me guess," Nethaniel drawled. "Something's come up. Something too pressing to wait?" The know-it-all grin wasn't smug, but expectant.
"Protectin' the people on this island is my job, Mr. Dante."
And while her continued use of Mr. Dante, was meant to keep a bit of impersonal distance between them, it acted like a conduit of excitement to the infuriatingly observant man. He pushed out a growl that warned of naughty things, and Mack rose up from the table in a huff.
"Well, if you're really going to leave me before dessert, it must be something of vital importance? Something I should send a reporter to investigate? Should I return to work as well?"
"Ha!" She pointed at him with squinty gotcha eyes. "I knew it. You're just tryin' to get an in to the happenings around here, aren't ya—Mr. Dante."
"That's hardly necessary. If I really want to discover what's happening around town, I just need to visit the Wicked Muddy Café and grab of mug of that coffee perfection that always comes with a side of, well, you know what I heard...."
Everyone knew Grace was the woman to ask. She was the Demon Isle's own version of an internet search. However, Mack was keenly aware that as much fun as Grace liked to have as the island gossip, she'd never in ten lifetimes betray the island or do anything that put anyone's life in jeopardy.
Hell! The mouthy woman was sitting over at the damn bar with a beer in her hand chatting it up—more like holding Mack's hand from afar and casting her haughty winks every few minutes after forcing her to show up for this farce of a shindig. And she was supposed to meet up with Emily Morgan and her Aunt Lucy for some lobster mac and cheese—as cover, because Mack didn't want Mr. Dante knowing she'd brought backup. But at this rate, by the time the ladies showed up for dinner, Grace would be three sheets to the wind.
Mack eyed the infuriating man. "Now, look here, Mr. Dante." It was like there was crushed dirt in her mouth. "I've got work to get to. I am not your dang lifeline to what's happenin' on The Demon Isle."
He did something then that was completely out of character, and leaned back in his chair where his forever smile labored and even abandoned his always sharp and amused eyes.
"I really don't need you for that, Mackenzie." It was the first time he'd called her by her name, and her full first name, and not some nickname along the lines of a cushiony love muffin, or some such nonsense.
"I don't know what you're after," Mack continued, "but you probably ought to look elsewhere. I'm not a woman who needs a man to complete her and all that bularkey."
"I promise, that's not what I see when I look at you."
"And just what is it you do see?"
"Me. I see me. Loneliness, hidden behind a hundred layers. You're a strong woman who doesn't need anything. And you'd protect everyone on this island with your life. But what would you be leaving behind? Don't you want something more meaningful than just a job?" He shook his head. "I merely thought we could be friends. Or more."
"Well," she cleared her throat. "I—um."
He held up his hand. "You've made your feelings quite plain. I surrender. I must admit though, you've made me want something I've never wanted. We may not need others, but I find I like the idea of a hot body warming my bed at night."
"I think you're lookin' at me with beer goggles on."
"Only an idiot would ever see you that way. Skin and bones doesn't have anything on sass and smarts."
Mack went to leave, but before she'd made it two steps spun around and eyed the man.
"Tomorrow night. Same time. Same table. We'll see about the sassy sheriff warmin' your dang bed."
A raunchy smile spread across his face like he planned on never leaving the table and waiting out her return.
She squinted her eyes at him. "And no nonsense about watchin' my bloody fine ass as I'm shufflin' outta the joint."
"Oh, but kitten, it is such a bloody fine ass to ogle as its vanishing from view." He purred out a playful snarl and snapped his teeth like he wanted a taste. And Mack found herself needing to look in the mirror to see if she'd suddenly reverted to a sixteen-year-old hormone sack of skin and bones. The man was going to be the death of her.
She caught Grace's questioning raised eyes as she worked her way out of the joint, and the coffee shop gossip followed her out a moment later.
"Shit's about to go down, huh," Grace assumed.
"Sure as hell is. Wait—you talkin' about the Howards or Nethaniel?"
"Oh, how now? We've started callin' him Nethaniel, have we?"
Mack grumbled and ignored the woman.
"Go do what you do best you damn woman, and start the dang phone tree." The locals needed to be warned about the shit about to go down.
"Guess I need to call Em—oh, there she is pulling in now. You go, Mack. I'll get to makin' my calls right quick."
Mack sped off just as Emily and her Aunt Lucy got out of the car to meet Grace.
"Sorry, Emily. Duty calls," she lifted a humored brow in using the Howard's favorite excuse.
Emily's smile fell. "It's happening then? Tonight?" She felt her Aunt's hand grab her arm in comfort. It was usually her saying such things, like, duty calls, when she'd put everything aside and help the Howards, and Michael.
"'Fraid so. I gotta run. But hey, you go have yourself a nice sit down. Hell of a lot safer here than anywhere near that park." Grace patted Emily's shoulder and left her in the parking lot where she just stared into empty space for so long her Aunt had to call her name repeatedly to get her attention.
"Sorry," Emily apologized. "I feel so—lost. Not that months ago I would have been right out there fighting alongside them, because I wouldn't have on purpose. But I'd have been helping in some way. Usually with research. Now...I don't know where I fit into anything."
"
Emily, just because you're confused, and unsure about your place here on the Isle, doesn't mean you've stopped caring about your friends."
Her first thought though, wasn't her friends. But Michael. An instant and overwhelming panic had cinched her heart and stopped it for a minute. She was sure of it.
Why was it that humans needed such seriously brutal swift kicks in the ass to get their shit together? And know with such certainty where they were meant to be?
What if something happened tonight and she never saw him again? What if he died thinking she didn't love him? Her stomach rolled, and her thoughts were tearing off in ten directions and yet none of them were the right one. It wasn't like she could just go waltzing into the middle of a war and shout out, I love you, Michael Howard—just in case you die tonight.
"I don't know what to do, Aunt Lucy. Maybe there isn't a damn thing I can do." When she focused her vision, and saw her aunt smiling back at her, she shook her head. "What?"
"I knew you'd find your way home again. There isn't anything that can keep the Arnaud women down for long. This place is where you're meant to be, Emily. I don't believe for a minute it was mere coincidence that brought you back here."
Emily wanted her aunt to be right. She'd spent the last three days wallowing in self-pity. Stopping herself from going to see Michael. Stopping herself from running away again. Worrying about her friends from a distance as they dealt with this new threat. And wondering how she might fit back into life here.
Many of the fears Emily had been brooding over had all but vanished. The last of that fear had died a quick death when her heart had stopped beating for a second and all those fears turned into losing Michael. Or her friends.
It almost seemed silly now, what she'd done. Fleeing the Isle.
But at the same time, it had taken her to her aunt. Her family. Her ghost of a mother....
Sometimes, in the moment, life made no freaking sense whatsoever.
And then sometimes, it never made more perfect sense, either.
Emily's only choice now, was how did she help her friends?
