Page 49

Forty-Five

ALEC

At some point during her storytelling, Harlow passes out in my arms.

People don’t sleep in places they feel unsafe. Which means at some point, she’s decided to trust me enough to relax around me.

Given the night she’s had, I shift until she’s lying down and using my thigh as a pillow. Her hair streams over my lap, and I stroke my fingers through the strands that were once soft but now are mixed with dirt and broken leaves from our time on the ground. I pick out any that I find, even if I kind of like her like this.

Like that, in the cemetery with the souls from witches past—many I’ve put here myself—I hold one of their own, thankful a witch’s magick seems to fade with their death, or else I’d be fighting an invisible army.

Hours pass and, besides the occasional squeak from a squirrel, chirp from a bird, or gust of wind, all is silent. But too soon, the time nears sunrise.

I wake her slowly with a few caresses to her cheek, enthralled by the fact this witch is all mine. She wakes slowly, yawning in a way I find captivating. I haven’t yawned since my human life.

“Hellion, you have to get up. Sun will be rising shortly.”

She yawns again, and I help her sit upright. She stretches, arching her back, her nipples hard through my shirt. More than anything, I want her back in my bed where I can spend every waking minute ravishing her body, especially after the bullshit from the coven last night. She’ll want to return to the High Priestess, I’m sure, but I’d be more than thrilled to carry her away from here.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” She tries to stand, but her body, laden with sleep, does her no favours.

I duck, lifting her bridal style and tucking her into my chest, her head on my shoulder, exactly how I carried her from the tiny cell when she called for me. After readjusting my shirt so it’s covering her bare ass, I begin walking.

“You didn’t have to carry me. Pretty sure you did your duty long enough being my pillow.”

“Don’t have to, but I want to.”

She hums, her body loosening in my arms, accepting what she needs. “Well…thanks.” Once I’m out of the cemetery and through the small gate, walking in the direction of the High Priestess’s house, she sighs. “I almost don’t want to go back. I still don’t know how to feel about everything.”

“Say the word and I’ll keep walking. You don’t need to have everything figured out.”

I spot the argument even before she speaks, her forehead rippling with last night’s anxieties. “Hecate will turn against me with black magick, if She hasn’t already.”

“This is why vampires don’t have deities. The devil, maybe, would be the closest thing, but we certainly don’t pray to him. If your goddess no longer cares, then she’s missing out on an incredible witch.”

She watches me, those purple eyes of hers sparking with words unsaid. It’s another few feet before she murmurs, “Sometimes you really surprise me, Alec. Last night, for example. You were really nice. I never thought I’d say those words. There’s still so much I don’t know about you, and it’s confusing.”

“Ask whatever you want to. Good or bad, I’ll tell you anything.”

Unfortunately, we reach the High Priestess’s house, and given the sun is less than an hour away, I don’t have the time to wait for her questions.

By the front door, I place Harlow on her feet and readjust my clothing so it covers everything before we enter, immediately being swarmed by three people who rush from the nearby living room.

Morgan’s on her instantly, yanking her in a tight hug while the other two remain back. Carina’s staring at Harlow while the male watches me, distrust in his eyes, like I’m supposed to give a fuck. He’s lucky I’m allowing him so close to my Bride when she’s naked beneath my shirt and still smelling of my cum and marked with dirt.

“Fuck, Harlow,” Morgan exclaims, thrusting Harlow back to examine her. “I spent half the night searching for you before realizing you probably didn’t want to be found. I sensed you were still in Banff, though; your signature was within the town’s lines.”

“I’m okay.” Harlow waves to the other two before crossing her arms, covering her chest. “Just tired. I know we have to talk, and I’m sorry you guys stayed up all night waiting, but we should all sleep.”

Morgan rolls her lips together, obviously wanting to argue it, but agrees with a nod. “Yeah, I think rest will be smart before talking about…everything.” Her eyes flick towards me. “Feel free to use the basement again.”

“And you can take my room,” Carina interjects. “I’ll sleep at Jasper’s again.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be sleeping downstairs with Alec. Thanks, though.” She walks past them all, ignoring Carina’s subtle wink, Morgan’s gaping mouth, and Jasper’s frown. At the basement door, she turns towards me, no comment required before I join her.

She doesn’t speak until we’re safely downstairs. “I don’t want to be around any of them right now. They’ll want answers I don’t have. And you make it all better. You won’t demand the same things.” She watches me head for the corner of the basement, searching for any spare blankets or towels in a few of the boxes down here that she may be able to use for warmth since my body temperature isn’t helpful. “You’ve always made it better,” she murmurs in a considering tone. “I’ve been hearing your voice for months, and sometimes it kept me sane. The shadows gave me a reprieve from the second you appeared in my bedroom. They returned that night in the dungeon, but went away during your visits. From the beginning, we’ve been linked. The signs were there all along, but we never knew to look.”

I’m looking now.

I’m looking, and I see her.

Harlow isn’t the Sinclair I always assumed her to be. She’s just my Hellion. My obsession.

And if she’s right, then her shadows always knew not to fuck with what’s mine. Black magick may be a part of her, but it won’t beat an actual creature of Darkness, a descendant of one of the first demons.

“I’m glad you have access to black magick,” I state. “My body still remembers the way it was thrown against the wall. You’ll be able to defend yourself if anyone comes close—and for dealing with my ass when you get pissed off.” And she will get pissed at me at some point over the years.

“I didn’t want to do that.” Her steps make small clicking noises over the stone as she approaches. “The shadows, they speak to me, encourage me to do things, like defend myself.”

Well, that’s a new one.

“You were newly recharged. and I deserved it after everything.” I drop to the ground, the cool wall barely noticeable against my skin, and gesture for her to approach. “Can’t find a blanket or anything. You can go up and ask for one?”

“It’s fine.”

She lowers herself, one thigh on either side of my leg and situates herself on my lap, just like she was earlier in the night when my cock was buried inside her. She shivers and leans into my chest, curling her hands between our bodies for warmth.

The same kind of warmth that spreads through my body at the feeling of this—of my mate on my chest. Not because she’ll fall asleep like this, but because she’s chosen to be on me.

It means everything in a time of my life when I’m only just learning the definition of everything . It’s synonymous with Harlow.

I stoke a hand through her hair, never able to get enough of her. She needs a shower after our adventures outside, but I’m not recommending it until I’ve gotten my fill of her.

So never.

Her head lowers to my chest, ear to the place the organ long dead once thumped. If there was any chance of it beating again, I think it’d happen at this moment right here.

Being immortal, sometimes life can blink by in an instant. Yet there’s never been a time where I’ve been more content to just be . Where contentment is being still and holding this scrap of a powerful and intriguing woman in my arms.

Her breaths are warm along my side, comforting and paced. While I don’t require breathing, I choose to match my inhales and exhales to hers while my hand continues its petting. She should be able to sleep like this, but instead she speaks.

“Before we came inside, you said I could ask anything about you.”

“Only if I get to ask my own in return.”

She lets out a low huff, almost a whisper. “You know everything already.”

“Not everything.”

“Like what? Actually, don’t answer that. My turn first.” She lifts her head and straightens on my lap but leaves her hands on my chest, her fingers creating small, rhythmic circles. “You never told me how old you are.”

“I’m old. Old vampires mean strength, power. Next question.”

Her smirk is a slow climb. “Is someone self-conscious about his age? Fine.” She rolls her eyes playfully, and I’m struck by how much I enjoy the relaxed, spirited side of Harlow. “You claim you’re one of the kings of vampires, but what does that entail? ’Cause from what I’ve seen, you haven’t done all that much except show me off to a bunch of vampires.” Her gaze flicks to the corner of the room as her expression falters, another question unspoken across her face.

No one’s getting your blood, I reassure her. They’ll have to go through me first. The cure will remain in your pretty little veins, never to be used again.

Her chest visibly decompresses, giving me a better peek down the opening of my shirt. “Good. Now, answer the question.”

“Royalty in vampire communities is slightly different from human monarchies. We don’t follow laws like mortals do, but someone needs to have some authority over the others in case they slip up, like go on a rampage and destroy cities. Essentially, I put fear into others.”

“How do you become a king?”

“You take the role, of course.”

“Which means anyone can challenge you for it and become the next one?”

It’s happened in the past, but they didn’t succeed. “They’d have to beat me, but yes.”

“And there’s multiple?”

“I monitor the North American vampires. Europe has its own leader. Australia. Russia. We take territories to not only rule over, but to protect.”

She nods, seemingly digesting it all. “Your turn.”

I ask the first thing that comes to mind. The thing that’s been on my mind since the moment I ran her back to my bedroom and fucked the mate bond into her. “I thought you were homeschooled.”

“I was.”

My hands clench her thighs, imprinting my touch and erasing all those who came before me. “Give me the names of the mortals who’ve ever touched you. You weren’t a virgin.”

She laughs loud enough that half the house could hear her if they were still awake. “A jealous vampire. Charming.”

“You think I’m joking?” I slide her closer, fingering the collar of my shirt, tempted to rip it from her and show her how not joking I am. “You have no fucking idea how pissed I was to realize someone touched you before me. So who’s the mortal whose head I’ll be placing on a spike in my office for touching my mate?”

She laughs again, a tear sliding from her eye that she wipes away, only for another to follow. Only amusement comes through the bond, so I don’t believe they’re tears of sadness.

“I was homeschooled, but not a nun. There were two before you. When I was seventeen, I lost my virginity to my next-door neighbour. Arthur and Violet were very protective—which now I get why they were so psychotically anxious all the time—but my neighbour was the exception since we grew up beside one another. He was basically my only friend.”

Her neighbour will be easy enough to track down.

“But,” she rushes to add, sprawling her palm across my chest, “he’s moved away since then, and no , I’m not telling you where.”

Cities keep deeds of previous home owners, so it’s a matter of getting his family name and pursuing.

“The second?”

“A few years ago. He was a co-worker, but has long since moved on. I’m also not handing over his name.”

“It won’t be hard to get ex-employee records, Hellion.”

“Don’t hurt them, Alec. I’m serious. I’ll be pissed as hell and slam you against the wall if you go after them. Besides, since we’re sharing past experiences, what about yours? Maybe stick to the past fifty years or so, though, or we’ll be here all day.”

Chuckling, I return my hands to her thighs, tracing invisible lines up and down, enjoying when her skin breaks out in goosebumps. “There’s been no one worthy enough remembering.”

“That sounds like avoidance.” Her tongue skates over her teeth before asking, “There must have been someone in your past life who you cared for?”

“As a human, my future wife would have come to me in an arranged marriage, and at the time of my death, none had been set up yet. The first while as an immortal was spent drunk on blood, sex, and power, but I couldn’t remember the names, let alone the faces, of anyone.” That time was a blur of centuries long past and not caring. “Vampire women are tedious and power-hungry. Mortals are fragile and dull. There isn’t anyone of note.”

“My body’s basically mortal. That mean I’m fragile and dull too?”

My hands grip her hips, pushing her down on me so she feels how non-fragile and dull I think her. “You’re everything opposite of dull, Hellion. You give me life in ways no one else ever has. I believe it’s now your turn.”

“You mentioned transitioning to a vampire in the past. How does that happen?”

“A mortal needs to consume enough vampire blood before dying. When they go, they die a human death, but a vampire’s natural healing qualities revive them into reawakening as an immortal. How they die doesn’t matter, only that they do so with a few sips of vampire blood in their system. Once awake, they need to drink the blood of a living creature within a few hours or they die again, this time for good. It’s like a trade-off; deceased blood transforms, living blood revives.”

She traces a line down my abs, getting close enough to my waistband that my cock takes it as an invitation. “Have you ever turned anyone?”

I tip her head up, wanting her to see my face when I reply, “There’s never been anyone I’ve wanted to be around for eternity.”

Her gaze drops to the space between us, and her hands slip off my chest to knot in her lap and rub at the scars on her wrists. “What’ll happen to me? Witches live long lives, but not that long.”

“The moment I chose you, our lives got linked. You die; I die. If you complete your side of the bond and I were to die, you would as well. As long as I live, you will too. Whether that’s another century, a millennium…” I trail off as the blood drains from her face. She says nothing, but her heart goes off like a butterfly’s wing—and it’s as fragile as one too.

“You didn’t choose me, though. Fate did.”

“No, Hellion, I chose you. If I truly despised you, I wouldn’t have followed you here. I would have allowed myself to wither without your blood and eventually fall into a coma.”

She leans away, putting entirely too much space between us. “So you chose me over death? That’s not exactly selling me.”

“Harlow, I have given you every reason to doubt me, but I vow to spend the rest of forever proving to you I want you for reasons beyond whatever it was exactly that made you mine and me yours. You’re my equal, and I apologize it took me a while to realize it. You , everything about you, drew me in from the beginning. How I see it, this entire time, you’ve been the predator between us, not me. It’s why I’m here. Why I didn’t immediately seek ways to break the bond. You’re scared, and I can feel it. Take the time you need, because I’m not going anywhere. We have eternity, you and I, and I plan on using every second of it.”

She’s staring at her lap, but I feel her tear on my hand as though she’s sobbing. To me, one tear is one too many, and I wipe her cheek, my hand lingering when I don’t want to stop touching her.

She reaches up, tracing along my cheek and towards my lips. I part them as her thumb brushes my bottom lip, and she slips inside my mouth, lightly brushing one of my fangs. They extend, responding to her touch.

“Are you hungry?”

“For you, always. In general, no.”

“They’re sharp,” she murmurs, stroking the tip again before reaching for my hand. I let her control it, curious when she brings my index finger up to my fang and pushes it against the tip, the skin breaking after a moment of bated breath—hers. Blood swells in a small, red bead.

She brings my finger to her mouth and sucks the tip.