A Veiled & Hallowed Eve

by Hailey Turner

  “I will,” Patrick said after a pause. “Think about it, I mean.”

  Priya nodded, looking pleased. “Good.”

  “It’ll be a while before I can give you an answer though.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  “About that. Once I’m finished with Congress and our pack issues have been taken care, I’ll be taking a leave of absence.”

  “Send me the paperwork and I’ll push it through when you’re ready. I may still need you to be available for congressional reasons if anything comes up while you’re on leave.”

  “Sure, just not when I’m on vacation.”

  “Oh? Where are you going?”

  Patrick couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of his voice as he glanced at Jono. “Maui.”

  The cherry blossom trees in the Congressional Cemetery were in full bloom when Patrick laid flowers on Setsuna’s grave. The stone monument standing watch over her final resting place was simple in design and had her name carved into the marble, but no one else’s. It wasn’t her family’s plot, only hers, but being buried here in the city she’d lived most of her life in had been her choice.

  Priya had told him Setsuna had been cremated after the fight in Manhattan. Her peers had seen her laid to rest according to Shinto practices, body cremated before being placed in an urn that was buried in the ground. A fund had been created to provide fresh flowers once a week for a year after her death, and Patrick already had plans to continue that tradition when the money ran out.

  He’d been surprised when, a few weeks back, Priya had given him a tiny ceramic vial containing a small amount of Setsuna’s ashes, a request from those of her family still living that he have something to remember her by for his own shrine. Patrick wasn’t much for prayers these days, but the space where Ashanti’s altar had once stood was more than good enough for Setsuna’s ashes.

  He stepped off the grave to return to his spot between Jono and Sage, who had one hand resting beneath her baby bump in an almost unconscious gesture. Wade stood on her other side, fidgeting with the ties on his hoodie. The core of their god pack had been able to travel to DC with him because Linh and the others had stayed behind.

  Patrick was still getting used to the new members of their god pack. Admittedly, he’d been a little shocked that their pack had grown in his absence, but he trusted the decisions that had been made. It wasn’t like they could remain four people forever, not with the size of the city they had to rule over.

  Jono slipped his arm over Patrick’s shoulders, pulling him close. Patrick leaned into the touch and let his head rest for a few seconds on Jono’s shoulder.

  “I miss her,” Patrick admitted quietly.

  “I know, love,” Jono murmured.

  He didn’t think he would ever miss her the way he did these days, and that made her absence so much worse in a way. He still had nightmares about the night she was shot, and the guilt was always worse after those. But Patrick was talking to his therapist, while Jono was always there to comfort him, and he had his pack. Crawling out of the black pit he sometimes found himself in was getting easier.

  Patrick stared at Setsuna’s grave for a few minutes longer, thinking about all the things he never got to say to her, wondering if she’d hear them now if he spoke them here. If not today, then maybe the next time he visited DC.

  He had time.

  “Ready?” Jono asked, rubbing his arm.

  Patrick nodded. “Yeah.”

  They walked away from her grave, the rawness of her passing momentarily soothed by the company he kept. As they headed down the sloped hill for the road, Patrick caught sight of a woman standing beneath the branches of the cherry trees, the gentle breeze shaking petals down upon her.

  “Oh, bloody hell,” Jono said, scowling.

  Patrick didn’t know why his pack was bristling at the presence of a stranger whose face he couldn’t make out, but then the crackle of ozone pricked against his skin, and he knew.

  “Persephone,” Patrick said warily once they came to a stop near her.

  The Greek goddess of spring smiled, looking happier and brighter than he’d ever seen her before. “Hello, Patrick.”

  His attention drifted from Persephone to the infant she cradled, Macaria’s tiny face turned to look at him. She looked at peace in her mother’s arms, the flicker of her godhead burning through her aura, whole in a way it hadn’t been while brutalized by Ethan’s greed.

  “I thought my soul debt was paid?”

  “It is. I’m not here to ask anything of you.”

  “Then why stop by at all?” Jono asked rudely.

  Persephone glanced down at her daughter, stroking a finger gently over her chubby cheek. “Because I have one last thing to give Patrick.”

  “Nope. Patrick doesn’t want it,” Wade said quickly.

  “Wade,” Sage said warningly.

  He scowled at her, clearly sulking. “No more gods is our pack’s motto. We agreed on that last month.”

  “Hush.”

  “What is it?” Patrick asked, wanting to get it over with and move on. This time, he wasn’t bleeding at Persephone’s feet. This time, he had his pack with him. This time, he could say no and survive whatever came after.

  “I gave you your life, and you lived it well. We gods gave you the dagger, and you wielded it how heroes do. The only thing left is the wolf.”

  Patrick went cold, stomach twisting. “You aren’t taking Jono.”

  “I will eat you,” Wade added, blowing smoke out of his nose.

  Persephone chuckled, the sound not quite mocking but close enough. “Oh, fledgling. This is a gift.”

  “I’ve had enough of those to last three lifetimes,” Patrick said.

  Persephone walked over to them, flowers blooming in her wake. “No strings. No debt. This is given freely.”

  Jono’s hand settled against the small of Patrick’s back, a grounding touch that helped him stand his ground as Persephone approached. The smell of flowers grew stronger, coating his throat, and he swallowed against the floral taste of spring.

  Persephone came to a stop in front of his pack, the smile gracing her face making her look almost human. “We gave you the wolf and bound you together. We have decided you may keep the soulbond, and you need not fear your government learning of it. It is a secret that will be kept by the will of the gods.”

  “I would’ve stayed without it,” Jono growled.

  “We know.”

  “Why?” Patrick asked, looking for the catch, because there was always something owed when it came to the gods and their machinations.

  “Because this is the end the Fates have finally decreed.”

  And maybe that was true, but it was a costly win no matter how one looked at it. This world was no longer his father’s myth, but it was a story Patrick had lived. Going forward, maybe Patrick would be more than a footnote in some long-forgotten history. Maybe he’d be the hero in a cautionary tale, someone who’d survived the trials and tribulations the gods had thrown in his path and gained a future he could live with.

  Maybe one day, when he died, he wouldn’t be remembered.

  Patrick reached for Jono’s hand, finding him reaching back. He intertwined their fingers, and the squeeze Jono gave him was a reminder that he’d never let go.

  “I don’t need a soulbond to know Jono will stay, or to know he loves me, but if removing it is going to hurt how it did when we got it, then I guess we’ll keep it,” Patrick said.

  “So will I,” Jono said.

  Persephone inclined her head ever so slightly. “May the binding be forever.”

  She turned to go, the veil already splitting apart behind her, when Patrick said, “Wait.”

  Persephone paused and looked back at them. “Yes?”

  “Does my mother’s family still pray to you?”

  He hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask when he’d spoken to Eloise after he returned from the veil. They were still navigating their familial relationsh
ip, and he knew he couldn’t move forward without an answer.

  Persephone smiled slightly. “There are many prayers that reach my ears these days. So many more people believe in us gods since the fight at the end of the world, but your grandmother’s prayers no longer reach my ears.”

  She walked away and disappeared into the veil, cherry blossoms swirling in the space she left behind. Her words lingered though, and Patrick wondered if that was what she and the gods had been after all along—a life lived through new believers, gods an undying memory, no matter the consequences.

  Jono tugged on his hand, drawing him forward. “Come on. We’ve a flight to catch.”

  Patrick let himself be led to the road that would take them out of the cemetery, Sage and Wade beside him, finally able to believe that it was well and truly over. That it was done, and he could go home.

  It felt good, Patrick realized, soul light in a way it never had been before, to finally be free.

  Epilogue

  “Wow,” Patrick said, staring at the oceanfront mansion Marek and Sage owned in the Makena neighborhood on Maui.

  Jono gave a low whistle. “Bit posh, innit?”

  “A bit? I think you need your eyes checked.”

  Patrick got out of the car, the humid heat of Maui in June hanging heavy in the evening air. They’d spent roughly fourteen hours in the air traveling from the East Coast, with a stop in Los Angeles to refuel Marek’s private jet, and had finally touched down in paradise an hour ago. Their private chauffeured car had been waiting for them in the hangar, and they’d been driven to the place they were going to call home for the next two weeks.

  Sage had taken care of all the logistics for them. Even at six months pregnant, she was a force to be reckoned with. As their dire, she’d cleared their pass-through rights with the Hawaiian god pack. The group of werecreatures weren’t werewolves but weresharks, and Patrick wasn’t keen on getting on their bad side. Luckily, his and Jono’s travels hadn’t been an issue, despite it taking weeks to extract themselves from work, both with the government and the packs.

  But this vacation was long overdue, and Patrick firmly put work and responsibilities aside in favor of hauling their luggage into the mansion. The interior was all dark wood and clean white walls, with huge windows overlooking the ocean on every level. Jono led the way upstairs to the large guest suite, carrying his luggage to the walk-in closet that was probably bigger than their guest bedroom back home.

  Sage had coordinated cleaners to come and open up the estate so it didn’t smell musty. Patrick left his luggage by the bedroom door, wandering over to the windows. He pulled back the curtain, peering out at the crystal-clear blue waters of the Pacific Ocean lapping against the rocky shore just past the green lawn and gently waving palm trees. The sun was dipping toward the horizon, promising a spectacular sunset.

  Paradise never looked so good when he got to share it.

  Warm hands settled on his hips, pulling him back against a firm chest. Patrick craned his neck around, seeking a kiss that Jono readily gave him.

  “Finally got your vacation,” Jono murmured.

  “Yeah,” Patrick said, half turning in Jono’s arms. “It only took forever.”

  “Sage said she had groceries delivered today. Do you want to eat?”

  Patrick pushed against his chest, forcing Jono backward toward the bed. “Maybe in a little while.”

  Jono’s wolf-bright blue eyes went a little dark from lust as he slipped his hands underneath Patrick’s shirt. “Is that so?”

  “You should probably get undressed.”

  Jono laughed softly, already stripping out of his clothes. They left a trail of clothes to the king-sized bed in between kisses. By the time Jono hauled Patrick onto the bed, they were both naked. His skin prickled from the cool air in the room, making him shiver, though it was Jono who made him moan when firm fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock and gently stroked him. The friction wasn’t something he could handle for long, and he bit at Jono’s bottom lip.

  “Did you pack the lube?” Patrick asked. Jono was too busy sucking a bruise against the side of Patrick’s throat to answer. “Jono.”

  “In my luggage.”

  “Go get it.”

  It took five more minutes before Jono left Patrick to go find the lube. Patrick made good use of the separation by lying on the bed and stroking his cock, enjoying the view of Jono coming and going.

  “Menace,” Jono said as he settled between Patrick’s legs again, fingers already slick and sliding over his balls.

  Patrick let his head fall back, allowing Jono to lick his way down his throat. “You’re one to talk.”

  Jono hummed, biting at his collarbone before dragging his teeth gently over scar tissue. “Would rather not.”

  “Then don’t.”

  They’d done enough talking since Patrick’s return, and their partnership was stronger than it ever had been. Patrick could see it in the steady growth of their god pack beyond the core four they’d been for over a year. How there was less friction between the packs under their protection and the remaining Night Courts in the five boroughs. Their alliances hadn’t faded after the fight, were only growing, and Patrick knew none of that would be even close to possible without Jono by his side.

  “What do you want?” Jono asked as he rolled his hips against Patrick’s, their cocks sliding together.

  He hissed at the sensation, digging his hands into the sides of Jono’s waist, holding him close. “Just you. Only and always you.”

  Patrick’s shields had been down ever since they’d left their apartment, and he knew Jono would get the truth of it in his scent. After everything they’d gone through, Jono was the one person Patrick would never give up, the one person he would always fight for, because they were better together than they’d ever be apart, soulbond or no soulbond.

  Patrick arched his spine when one of Jono’s fingers pushed inside him with gentle pressure. He carded his fingers through Jono’s hair, mouth dropping open on a moan when Jono stroked his cock, thumb pressing against the sensitive spot beneath the crown.

  “Don’t know what my life would be like without you in it,” Jono muttered against his skin, slipping in another finger.

  Patrick blinked, bearing down on the pressure. He curled his fingers over Jono’s chin and drew him into a kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Because they’d risked it all and won in the end, and their prize was a future that wasn’t any of the nightmares that had woken Patrick up over the years. In the end, it was this. It was them. It was warm skin beneath his hands, the feel of Jono pushing into him slow enough to burn. It was the tenderness in Jono’s eyes, in his touch, and the wickedness in his smile when he snapped his hips to thrust at just the right angle, hard enough to make Patrick see stars.

  Patrick scraped his fingernails across Jono’s shoulders, holding him close, the heels of his feet digging into the small of Jono’s back. He could feel the way those muscles moved with every roll of Jono’s hips, each thrust hard enough to make him lose his breath.

  “I’m never letting you go,” Jono said, whispering the words into his ear like a sacred promise.

  He proved it there, his touch leaving hints of bruises in the shape of fingers on Patrick’s hips, marks he’d proudly wear. Patrick could only hold Jono close and open up for him, taking the pleasure he was always so good at giving. Patrick urged him on with hands and voice, fire licking at his nerves.

  Then Jono shifted on his knees, pulling Patrick higher onto his thighs, still fucking him with a relentlessness that was almost overwhelming. Patrick slapped a hand against the headboard to steady himself as Jono drove into him again and again, never looking away. Patrick took his own cock in hand, and it only took three strokes before he was coming, spine arching, Jono’s hand sliding underneath to hold him there as he ground in hard, cock throbbing deep inside him.

  When Jono came, Patrick was already floating in the aftermath of his orgasm, feeling
more at peace than he had ever in his life. Jono collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily, and Patrick wrapped his arms around Jono’s neck, closing his eyes.

  “Now you can make me dinner,” Patrick mumbled a few minutes later.

  Jono buried his laughter against Patrick’s throat, smacking his thigh. Patrick let his legs fall open, allowing Jono to shift back and pull out. Patrick grimaced at the stickiness between his thighs but didn’t pull away from Jono’s touch as his fingers rubbed it into his skin.

  “Shower first, then I’ll make you whatever you want.”

  They eventually made their way out of bed and into the massive bathroom that wouldn’t look out of place in a fancy spa. Dinner was a little late in getting started, through no fault of Jono’s. Patrick was to blame when he went to his knees in the steam-filled shower, sucking Jono off with a diligence that was rewarded by Jono stroking his cock and fingering him to a release that made him feel like he was drowning, and he couldn’t even blame the water.

  They ate dinner on the lanai, the sky clear of clouds, and the ocean waves white noise in the dark. When they crawled into bed together, Patrick fell asleep and didn’t dream.

  He woke the next morning with syrupy slowness, stretching his arm across the bed, already knowing the sheets would be cold. But Patrick could sense through the soulbond that Jono was somewhere close by, always within reach how it mattered.

  He sat up, squinting into the predawn light. Rubbing at his eyes, Patrick yawned and tried to kick-start his brain. He slid out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers before leaving the bedroom, following the gentle pull of the soulbond to his other half.

  Jono wasn’t anywhere on land, and Patrick sighed, resigning himself to an early morning swim. He left the coolness of the mansion for the tropical mugginess outside, a gentle breeze curling through his hair. Standing on the lanai, Patrick gazed out over the stretch of grass and the small garden that gave way to the shoreline beyond the cluster of palm trees. He couldn’t see Jono, but Patrick knew he was out there in the waves.