Hadrian swung his foot off the table and stood, pacing slowly to the fire, the amulet he wore around his neck caressed by a knuckle. “And in no part of the deal was Mary to be transported by the enemy. Seems like a significant breach, does it not, Tilda?”
Her skin grew clammy. “Mary will be here. She will be wedded to you.”
His laughter thickened the air in the room until Tilda could barely draw a decent breath. “See, I’m having a hard time maintaining my confidence in you, Tilda. After all, you think your husband had a perfectly sound reason for abandoning you. An offer of power.” His smile turned her stomach over, his implications making her want to jump out of the chair and run from the room. “I know nothing of love, but I’ve witnessed beings in the throes of such useless emotions often enough to know one thing. To them, death is preferable to separation. For a moment, let alone thirteen years. And so I will ask you again, are you sure Anton gives enough of a shit to return and claim his wife and brat? Or am I wasting my goddamn time?”
Tilda barley held on to her composure. On the inside, she reeled.
These words were unwelcome.
These possibilities were ones she’d repressed—successfully—since the last Exodus. Since her husband took one last look at her and allowed himself to be drawn skyward, leaving her to this nightmare world of humans to care for a girl who had no hope of fending for herself. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been shocked over Anton’s leaving. After all, they’d both been ambitious since they’d met, constantly seeking influence in the underworld. Leadership among the population of fae who’d been cast into the human realm until their worth could be proven anew.
Every ten years, the fae Assembly weighed the fortitude and value of those residing in the Faerie Realm. If a being was deemed unworthy, they were cast out. To the humans. Tilda and Anton had once been among those sent away. Long ago. Before they understood power. How it could feel. How it could make other looks at them. Treat them.
But they’d learned.
They’d governed their population of cast out fae with the confidence of a king and queen who’d been ruling for centuries—and their subjects fell in line. Until Mary. Until she’d had her sight taken away by an enemy of her grandfather and become an outward weakness, a symbol of Anton’s failure to protect—and most of all, he couldn’t accept anything in his life being less than perfect. At least judged that way by others.
After Mary’s loss of vision, Anton had grown determined to compensate for what he deemed a failure. He’d grown their commune of fae into a village and made it successful. Established their influence in the underworld. Made them a formidable foe of the vampires. And so he’d been deemed worthy during the Exodus, unlike Tilda. Worthy enough, in fact, to be a member of the Assembly, their version of a governing council.
They’d grown apart as husband and wife. Of course they had. All relationships took an occasional downswing, didn’t they? Yes. But Tilda loved Anton in a wild, gravitational way that pulled at her insides, made her remember more of the good times than bad. They would have repaired everything. If given the time they deserved, if she hadn’t been so occupied with Mary, they would have ruled side by side with admiration for one another, for all to see. She wouldn’t be a tired, powerless slayer bar owner with no one to rule but a staff of bartenders.
She deserved more.
She deserved to sit as his side—and she would.
Mary’s sacrifice would draw him back and he’d witness Tilda’s efforts to keep their fae relevant against all odds. He’d remember why they fell in love. Why they were so good together. And she would take her rightful place in the fae realm, leaving the disgusting humans far behind. Perhaps Anton would even forgive Mary’s blindness, her sacrifice allowing her to be brought home in the Exodus. A weakling molded into a hero by a determined mother.
Yes.
These last thirteen years could not be in vain. Tilda’s life could not.
Efforts paid off. Cunning. Decisiveness. That’s what she’d been taught.
Moreover, Anton valued those things above all else. He’d value them from her.
Yes, an alliance earned Anton his worthiness before. It would work for Tilda this time.
“For me and Mary he will come.” Tilda snatched her teacup back up and took a long sip, enjoying the tangy burn in her throat. “You’ve no reason to doubt.”
Leaning against the fireplace, Anton regarded her with a dark smirk. “Love. Ever the enemy, even to immortals despite its stupidly human quality. Nothing but a useless notion that can rip houses apart, sow division. And for what? A bit of fucking?” He spat on the ground. “Nonetheless love is why I need the fae on my side in the battle against the High Order and their followers, isn’t it? I might be more powerful than any of them individually, but because of the new king’s compassion and understanding, they have numerous newly mated vampires among their ranks. They are led by two of them in Jonas and Elias. And that makes them too volatile. Too desperate with their untapped power. Once again, love. Fucking everything up for the rest of us.” He flicked a piece of ash from his shoulder. “I will allow us to proceed.” Hard eyes landed on Tilda, each of her muscles tightening, vibrating like tuning forks. “But I suggest you check in with your daughter and her chauffeur. Impress upon them the importance of a timely arrival.”
Tilda knew when to bow her head and she did so now. “Yes. I’d planned on it.”
As soon as Hadrian strode from the room, he slammed the door shut with a flick of his index finger, leaving the door rattling on its hinges.
Tilda went to the window and smoked a cigarette with a trembling hand before calling the vampire. She could only imagine the challenges he must be facing keeping Mary concealed and even-tempered. Though this change in plans caused Tilda some awkwardness with Hadrian, she couldn’t help but feel unburdened. Lighter without Mary’s well-being to worry about. “Fancy Fangs Driving Service,” Tucker answered. “How many I help you?”
Tilda rolled her eyes. “I’d like to speak to my daughter, please.”
Some muffled words, followed by a beat of silence. “Hello, Mother.”
“Mary.” She put a smile into her voice. “Where are you? How are you?”
“Great,” breathed Mary and somehow Tilda could sense her looking at the vampire fondly. Too fondly. “Tucker bought me a light-up crown. It looks like my radiance is coming from the crown, instead of me. No one has even commented on it.”
A pang of guilt caught Tilda in her breast. Maybe she should have made more of an effort to give Mary some normalcy? To show her the world beyond their small apartment?
As quickly as the guilt intruded, she shooed it away. She’d given everything to her child. Her marriage. Her chance at being taken in the last Exodus. She had nothing to feel bad about. “That’s fantastic. You’ll have to show it to me when you arrive.” Tilda set her teeth. “I expect that to be soon, Mary. Please inform your driver there is no need to stop for toys. Our destiny awaits us—and he is not a part of it. He’s merely a facilitator.” When Mary remained silent, Tilda sighed. “Let me speak to the vampire again.”
Tucker’s voice was in her ear a moment later, sounding far less jovial than before. “Yes?”
“Have my daughter here by Tuesday, please.”
A few seconds passed. “It’s Sunday morning. You said to have her at the manor by ‘this time next week.’ That’s a Saturday, according to calendars.”
“Plans change.”
But hers wouldn’t.
Tilda hung up the phone without waiting for a response.
* * *
Tucker needed sleep.
It was rare for a vampire to give in to such a human condition as tiredness. Over the course of a month, he usually slept twice.
But it wasn’t for the sake of exhaustion that he craved unconsciousness. He just wanted to forget for a while that he’d lied to Mary about something so fucking important. It didn’t matter that he’d lied about the mechanics of matehood for her own good, he’d
hurt her feelings. Granted, he’d never expected Mary to be so upset over the news that he’d find a mate someday. Never saw that coming at all. Just like he’d never expected her to want his touch.
Tucker dropped a hand to his lap and adjusted the erection that wouldn’t quit.
Every time he managed to soften enough to be comfortable, he’d remember Mary’s slippery flesh, how she’d ridden his fingers, her tongue drawing in and out of his mouth, the weight of her tits in his hands. And yeah, it was back to boner city on the express bus.
His time with Mary was on the same express route, too, now.
A week hadn’t been enough time, let alone four days.
A lifetime wouldn’t be enough.
His eyes burned like they were rimmed in hot coal. There was nothing he could do to stall. Not without ruining Mary’s chance for happiness. Not without disregarding her wishes. What she wanted. What she’d chosen. The fact that he wanted to whip the car into a U-turn and find a cave to hide her in didn’t matter. He was there to drive. He was not one of the choices, so he needed to be happy for the gift of her time he’d been allowed, short as it might be.
Tucker signaled and took a hard right turn, putting the Impala on the back road that would bring them to the safe house. Almost there. Would she talk to him again once wind wasn’t roaring in through the broken windows? Or was she going to stay upset? The latter possibility caused him so much distress in his midsection, he fought the need to howl.
He was doing the right thing by lying to her, wasn’t he?
Yes. Mary couldn’t know the Tucker strongly suspected she was his mate. And he definitely couldn’t tell Mary that drinking her blood was the only way to know for sure.
If she allowed him to test his theory, to slide his fangs into her delicate neck and partake, no other blood would appease or sustain him ever again. Death would come for him within weeks without her blood. What if she found out and altered her plans because of it? That, in itself, would be a longshot when she had so much to gain elsewhere. Her sight. He wouldn’t take the chance with something so monumental. If Mary was forced to make sacrifices on his behalf, he wouldn’t be able to stand it.
Although it was slowly dawning on Tucker that as soon as he left Mary with Hadrian…
He would very likely welcome death anyway.
Whether he’d drunk from her or not.
Which he wouldn’t.
Her scent mocked him from the other side of the car. With a clenched jaw, he renewed his determination to keeps his hands—and fangs—to himself.
That didn’t mean that he could stand the silent treatment for much longer.
To think she might be mad at him was agony, further proof she was his fated one. He’d watched his roommates turn from derisive assholes to exposed nerves over their mates. Right up until he met Ginny, Jonas was known in the underworld as unflappable. One walk on the boardwalk with the mortician and his world was suddenly unrecognizable. Nothing had mattered but Ginny’s safety. Tucker could finally relate to that.
Furthermore, he could now relate to Elias’s plight—his friend’s fated one was a slayer. Tucker shivered to think what it would be like to stand on one side of battle lines and have your mate standing on the other.
It wouldn’t be too long until he knew exactly what it was like.
A dead end came into view up ahead, the road split in half by a No Trespassing sign. He pulled up as close to the sign as possible and put the car in park. “I’ll be right back. The road is blocked off, but that’s only because Jonas is thorough and wants to keep outsiders away. I have to move the barrier out of the way before we can pass through.”
Mary started a little, her fingers flinching in her lap, but she nodded.
Ready to saw off an arm just to hear her voice, Tucker forced himself out of the vehicle. He left the car running and pulled the No Trespassing sign out of the ground, setting it aside, drove the car through. Then he got back out, and secured the sign once more.
A few minutes of driving later, a yellow cottage came into view. From the outside, it looked like it hadn’t been occupied in some time. Vines grew over the boarded-up windows, weeds peeked up through the brick walkway, an old tire lay on its side in the yard.
Tucker cut the engine and sat a moment with his wrist draped over the steering wheel, trying to think of something clever to say. Coming up with bullshit was his greatest asset, but it had deserted him when he needed it most. “If there are bunk beds in the safe house, I call top.”
When her lips tugged at the corner, the concrete in his chest loosened slightly. “That’s fine with me. I just want a bath.” A bath. Water and soap making her slippery. Warm. “What does the safe house look like?”
Forcing himself to turn his attention back to their surroundings and stop thinking of them both in the bathtub, making waves, he winced inwardly. “Well the view is nice. A valley. Lots of trees…”
“Uh-oh. Is the house that terrible?”
“Let’s not judge it until we get inside. Jonas is full of surprises.”
Tucker traveled around the back bumper of the car and helped Mary out, closing his eyes tightly when she threaded her fingers through his trustingly, allowing him to guide her.
You no longer deserve that trust, you big, dumb liar.
A knot formed in Tucker’s throat and he forced his eyes open. “It’s yellow. A cottage. There’s a brick path, kind of uneven, so mind your step. No other houses around, probably for miles. The garden is a little overgrown, but somebody meant well, once upon a time. Some daisies survived.”
“What do they look like?”
“They’re white and kind of…” He chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone I used this word, but they’re a little whimsical. The petals are about as long as your pinkie finger and there’re maybe thirty of them. Yellow and bumpy in the middle. That’s where the bees land to pollinate it. When I was a kid, I remember girls at school weaving daisies in through their shoelace holes or making crowns out of them at recess.”
“A crown of flowers,” she breathed, visibly delighted by the thought of it. “Those girls must have felt beautiful.”
The way she said it caused him to frown. Had Mary ever been as carefree as those girls he’d gone to school with? Had she ever been able to walk or run without fearing for her next step? No. No, he couldn’t imagine she had.
He’d taken a lot of things for granted without realizing it. Not that he’d ever picked a flower before, at least that he could remember, but he could if he wanted to. He’d know where to look and which ones he was plucking from the grass. Their color and size and if there were bees hovering around. Mary had never been able to do that.
But she would.
He would make sure of it.
Mary’s step slowed on the path and he reduced his pace alongside of her. “I’m sorry about your car windows.”
“Oh, those old things?” Tucker snorted. “I was going to replace them anyway.”
Her troubled expression eased. “No, you weren’t.”
“You wouldn’t be calling me a liar, would you?”
“Yes. I am.”
Tucker barked a laugh. “I can’t wait to see their faces in the repair shop when I tell them I made a girl scream so loud, she shattered the windows.”
After taking a moment to process that, Mary gasped. “You’re deliberately going to give them the wrong idea?”
“I can’t help it if their minds are in the gutter.” He brushed a hand down the back of her hair before he knew what he was doing. “They might even give me a discount out of sheer respect.”
Mary’s eyelids fluttered slightly at the contact from Tucker’s hand, her lips parting on a breath, and Tucker’s cock thickened in his pants. Please, please, for the love of everything holy, let there be blood in the refrigerator. Appeasing his thirst would barely dim his need for Mary, but at this point, he would take anything he could get.
Willing his fangs to stay in place, Tucker reached up and felt his
way along the top of a porch light until he made contact with the key, using it to unlock the door.
When he pushed it open and saw the house, he laughed.
“Now this is the upmarket flash I’ve come to expect from the king,” he said, taking Mary’s hand again and guiding her inside. “The master of hiding in plain sight strikes again.”
“What do you mean?”
Tucker started to describe the utter luxury of the interior, but a better idea struck him. He tugged his phone out of his pocket, pulled up his music library and found what he was looking for. “All right, if the outside of this house was a song, it would be this one.” The sound of banjos being strummed filled the room and Mary’s smile bloomed little by little. “And if the inside of this joint had a soundtrack, it would be more like this.” He tapped on Pavarotti, replacing the dueling strings with the full, passionate voice of the Italian tenor. “Does that sum it up for you?”
“Yes,” she half-gasped, half-laughed. “That…that was perfect. Do more.”
“Okay, come on.”
He took her on a tour of the house, beginning with the living room, where he played In the Jungle to describe the forest-green walls, white leather couches, bear skin rug and zebra print pillows. The bathroom had a beach theme, so he cranked some Jimmy Buffet. Mary giggling into his shoulder might have been the best moments of his life. When they reached the bedroom, however, his mind drew a total blank. One bed. Only one bed and the décor? Even a dude with very little experience like Tucker knew it was romantic.
The wallpaper was a dark moody gray with gold stars tapering down from the ceiling. A canopy hung over the bed, gauzy and twinkling with fairy lights. Beyond the bed, a window overlooked the fenced-in backyard, which was landscaped and lush, unlike the deceptive front of the house. Beneath their feet, the cream carpet was thick and soft. So clean that Tucker reflexively kicked off his boots and nudged them out into the hallway.
Mary’s eyes were fixed on his throat expectantly, a half-smile curving her mouth.
In the glow of the fairy lights was where she belonged. They embraced her, highlighted the gloss of her lips, the fire of her hair. Turned her eyes stunningly bright and wrapped her in a lustrous welcome. Had he really touched this goddess? Kissed her?
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