Page 46 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

Joan worked her way through the numbers. When she was done, the decoded message was one simple line.

Aaron my love. Evere myne. Evere thyne. Nicholas.

Joan stared at her penciled letters, at the Middle English spellings. For a long, strange moment, the words didn’t make sense.

Not separately, and not together. Aaron, my love.

Then she drew a sharp breath as the meaning jolted through her in a belated shock wave.

Joan and the others had been poring over these numbers for weeks, believing they held the key to stopping Eleanor. But the

cipher wasn’t about Eleanor at all. It was a love letter from the Nick of this timeline to his Aaron.

Joan read the message again, trying to take it in. Aaron and Nick had been together in this timeline....

She was stunned. She’d guessed that Aaron was into guys as well as girls. She hadn’t guessed the same for Nick. But beyond

that, Aaron and Nick were from two very different worlds—from Joan’s two worlds, monster and human—and they couldn’t have been further apart.

I can’t imagine our counterparts working together , Aaron had said to Nick. They’d clashed so much since they’d arrived here that Joan could barely picture it either. They had different backgrounds, different value systems, different visions for the world....

If anything, Joan had imagined them in a future battle between humans and monsters—with Aaron on one side and Nick on the

other. And Joan torn between.

And yet, this short note—just eight words—was like a glimpse of another story.

The bedroom door rattled and opened. Aaron had returned with a tray of food. He stopped when he saw Joan. She didn’t know

what her expression was, but he said softly, “What is it?”

Joan hesitated, and then held up The Riverside Chaucer . “I found the book Nick used for the cipher.”

Aaron tilted his head as if there was a strange note in her voice. “You solved it?” He put the tray carefully onto a chest

of drawers and came over. “I should have guessed it was Chaucer,” he said slowly. “He’s always been a favorite of mine.”

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat beside her. He’d pulled on a black velvet robe to go downstairs. He elevated everything

he wore, and it was luxurious on him—soft and touchable. He accepted the piece of paper from Joan and read what she’d penciled

above the numbers.

Joan looked up at him. His long, pale lashes brushed his cheeks as he read over the message again. Joan saw a flare of surprise

in his gray eyes. “They were together,” he said. His expression was unreadable now.

Joan waited for him to say something more, but he didn’t. “How do you feel about that?” she asked him. These last few hours with Aaron had felt like a light in the darkness in the wake of Nick’s death. What if this changed things between them?

He gave her an unexpectedly tentative look. “How do you feel?”

“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. She bit her lip, thinking about Nick’s and Aaron’s counterparts: the gladiator and the head

of the Oliver family.

Aaron’s counterpart had helped Nick escape the arena, and then they’d worked together to free other humans. They’d been born

into this terrible world, and they’d imagined something better. They’d tried to make something better.

Joan swallowed hard. In the back of her mind, she’d always associated Nick and Aaron—her love for them—with the two halves

of herself, monster and human. With the feeling of forever being wrenched apart. She’d always seen her two worlds as unreconcilable,

but, somehow, Nick’s and Aaron’s counterparts had found a way. Their love would have been illegal here—monsters and humans

weren’t permitted to be together in this world—and they’d still found a way.

And then they’d been erased. Wiped from the world, with only remnants left of them.

And that made her feel... No, she didn’t know how she felt. All she knew was that they were dead. And Nick was dead. Another

wave of grief hit her, strong enough to steal her breath.

She sought to untangle her thoughts into words for Aaron. “I’m so sad and so sorry that we erased them.” Her voice hoarsened as she spoke. “And I’m sorry that they had to live in this terrible world. I’m glad they had each other, though.”

To her surprise, Aaron bent to kiss her head, his breath warm in her hair. “I love you.” It was heartfelt, like when he’d

first said it. Joan turned toward him, and he drew her closer. Lips still pressed to her hair, he murmured, “This world is

so diverged from ours that we barely seem to be the same people.”

Joan wished she could see his face. There’d been a heavy note in his voice that she didn’t understand. “Aaron—” she started,

but he hushed her.

“You want to know what I think about my counterpart and Nick’s?” he said. “I think you were dead in this timeline.”

“What do you mean?”

He lifted his head finally, letting her see his face. His expression was achingly open now. “If your counterpart had lived,

it would have been you and Nick in this timeline. You two were together in the vera historia , and the timeline would have brought you back together here too.” He was silent for a moment. “I suppose I would still have

known you both, with Nick as an Oliver gladiator....” His eyes were distant, as if he was imagining watching them from

afar. “You would have made sense together, like you did in every timeline.”

Joan didn’t know what to say. She pressed her forehead to his chest, and his arms tightened around her. He always smelled

good. Right now, he smelled like himself, but also, faintly, of an expensive cologne with notes of bergamot and crisp winter

air. The scent was from his robe, Joan realized. The slightest trace of his counterpart.

There was nothing left to say. She held him closer and shut her eyes.

Aaron took a long time to fall asleep. When he did, it was fitful at first. He woke in jolts, reaching for Joan, as if he thought she’d vanished.

As if he thought the Court Guards had come to take her away from him.

Eventually, though, his breathing evened out, and his arm around Joan’s waist grew heavy.

The hearth fire flickered over his face. His beautiful features were soft with sleep, a pre-Raphaelite painting. Joan couldn’t

stop thinking about what he’d said. You would have made sense together. As if Aaron wouldn’t have made sense in the same way.

“I love you,” she whispered to him. He hadn’t believed it when she’d said it to him awake. Maybe his subconscious would hear

it and know it was true.

She must have fallen asleep herself after that.

She woke again, disoriented, in the darkness, and with a feeling that something was very wrong; something terrible was going

to happen.

And then she remembered. The terrible thing had already happened. Nick was dead.

Pain flooded through her, choking her, and she wrenched out a near-silent sob. Nick was dead .

A second later, strong arms were around her. Aaron. He held her, and Joan turned toward him, breathing him in.

“It doesn’t feel real,” she whispered to him. She couldn’t understand it. There were no more chances. No more timelines. “How

can he be dead?”

Aaron didn’t answer. There was no answer. He kissed her forehead. “Do you feel up to coming somewhere with me?” he whispered.