I smile at Dorian as he brushes his lips across my knuckles. Since that day…he hasn’t stopped touching me, especially after he witnessed the pain of the Skotos brand rip through my back. So, now he loves me with such gentleness and care—as if I’ll break. He kisses me constantly, telling me how much he loves me—needs me. Telling me that no matter what, we’ll be together. Forever.
Forever.
That word no longer holds any weight for me. Because there is no such thing as forever. There is no eternity. Everything has its end, and what we have today may not be here tomorrow.
Niko taught me that.
I thought that beautiful man would live forever. I imagined my future with him in it, still the same brash bastard with a smile that would light up the night sky. And when I would act like a brat, he wouldn’t hesitate to give me a harsh, hefty dose of perspective. And I would love him for his honesty, because he got me. In some ways, he was me.
I recognized his secret sadness. I felt the longing in his heart like it was my own. His soul had been crying for far too long, and in the process, part of him went numb. The part that missed Amelie too much. The part that would never, ever get over her death.
I hated him for submitting to death, but I understood him. He’d always be a prisoner of that numbness. He’d never feel again without her. And as much as he tried to move on—as much as he willed his heart to open to someone else—it was already too late. He loved her with every part of himself. And death was the only way he could be whole again.
I’ll never know if Niko knew he would die that day. Maybe even on some level he suspected his demise would be a result of saving my life. But I know that I’ll carry him with me always. And he’ll be looking down at me, Amelie at his side, shaking his head as he laughs heartily at something crazy I’ve done. Or beaming with pride at his brother, as he leads their people with integrity and compassion. Or just smiling that dazzling smile that could eclipse the lights of Times Square. Just because.
You’re free now, Niko. You’ve finally found your peace. You don’t have to be alone anymore. You’ll never know pain again.
And, God, I envy that.
My life is a beautiful tragedy.
And I’m just waiting for the end.
THE MEMORIAL TO honor Niko and Delia is as grand and gorgeous as we knew it would be. The kingdom spares no expense, and Dorian allows it, wanting only the best to lay his family to rest. Their ashes are presented in large, ornate urns. Otherworldlings from around the globe come to pay their respects, kneeling at the vases and presenting gifts to the deceased. They sing songs of an afterlife with the Divine. They dance jovially as they celebrate their lives. And when mourning has depleted their strength, they have a great feast.
“How are you?” Dorian asks, sliding his palm against mine. He’d been worried about any anxiety I would feel about coming back here, but honestly, I’m fine. There’s no place I’d rather be than with the people I love.
“Good,” I reply. And I may mean it.
I smile as Morgan approaches, Lars glued to her side. After everything that’s happened, she’s not ready to go back home to Colorado Springs, and the blonde Light warrior has vowed to follow her wherever she goes. He’s fallen for her…hard. I understand why. Morgan is just way too easy to love.
She kisses both my cheeks before moving to hug Dorian, drawing dozens of shocked and curious eyes. It is forbidden to even approach the throne, let alone embrace the king. But this is Dorian. And when you’ve lost more relatives than you have left in the span of a few days, you show love to the people that matter to you. Civilities be damned.
As it stands, Dorian has not yet officially taken the throne. He isn’t ready to, and I don’t blame him. There’s so much hurt attached to that title, for him and every supernatural creature on earth. They know change is coming—they can feel it. And the fact that he’s opened up the kingdom for all—Light, Dark, vampires, werewolves, humans—is inspiring hope.
Hope.
That’s all we have. And maybe, it’s all we need.
Alexander emerges from the crowd and makes his way up the steps where we’re stationed in the banquet hall. He greets us all warmly, also feeling the need to be more open and affectionate. When he wraps his arms around me, I hold on a little longer. I’m not ready to let go of my dad. I may not ever be. And now that we have a second shot at a relationship, I don’t want to spend a single second of this life without him knowing how much he means to me.
I’ve lost parts of who I was in the past few weeks. Small, yet painful bits like Jared and my old friends in Colorado, as well as larger, essential limbs like Donna, Chris and Niko. But I have Morgan, and now Lars, to replace those parts and hold me up again. Alex is here to fill the empty space left behind from losing my parents. And I have my heart—the most necessary piece of me—I have Dorian.
Tired of sitting still, I suggest we make our way into the crowd and socialize, something that’s unheard of for the king. But Dorian happily obliges, taking my hand to lead me into the festivities. Flanked by Morgan, Lars and Alex, we smile, shake hands, and embrace people. When we see Denny Nox, the five of us instantly surround him with love and heartfelt words. He lost too. A friend and a lover. But his friendship and bravery will not go unnoticed, by his people, or by his new king.
“Denny,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry. But…thank you. Thank you for everything. What you did that day—bringing people here and ensuring the safety of those innocent humans—was nothing short of a miracle. But how did you know? How could you have known our plans?”
Denny smiles, but the warmth in the gesture doesn’t touch his eyes. “Niko. He called me, telling me what your intentions were, but he didn’t ask for help. He just thought I should be here just in case Delia…” His voice breaks, and he looks down. Dorian rests a hand on his shoulder, telling him it’s ok. No need to say anymore.
Niko wanted him here to rescue Delia. If things turned ugly, he wanted someone there for her. It was risky—seeing as Delia had changed so drastically since marrying Stavros. Part of her soul had been corrupted as well, but her heart was the same. And it still knew Daneus Deleazó.
We all embrace him once more before moving on to allow him to handle his grief in private. Dorian told him that he is welcome to any room in the palace for as long as he wishes. He also offers the same to the rest of our friends. I hope they all accept the invitation.
When we see Cyrus sitting at a table, still bruised and bandaged, my heart sinks into my gut. He had been bed-ridden when we were attacked at Niko’s mansion. He wanted to attend the wedding, but his body was still on the mend. Yet, nothing but death could have kept him from his cousin’s memorial service.
Dorian pulls him in for a hug, holding the giant, 6 foot 6 inch vampire to him with such ferocity that it has to physically hurt. Still, neither pulls away for several minutes. They’re family. And Niko… Niko was the glue that kept them together. Cyrus had served the younger Skotos for decades, both as his close confidant and personal guard. He was never made to feel less than worthy of their family. Niko saw to that.
“I want you by my side when I take the throne,” Dorian tells him when he pulls away.
Cyrus bows his head. “It would be an honor to serve you, sire.”
“No.” Dorian claps a hand on the larger man’s shoulder. “Not as my servant. I want you on my personal counsel.”
Cyrus is flabbergasted, his red eyes darting from me to Dorian, waiting for the punch line. “I don’t understand. Your personal counsel? What would the other seven families say?”
“Well. They will say nothing other than to express their congratulations if they want to remain at court.” Dorian takes a deep breath and steps forward so that Cyrus can see the truth in his stare. “You are my family, Cyrus. Therefore, you will walk beside me. Not behind me. I need you, cousin.”
The vampire grunts out a cough, no doubt feeling a knot in his throat. Dorian pats him on the b
ack.
“You think about it and get back to me when you can.”
Cyrus bows his head once again. And as we turn away, I catch a glimpse of a single, red drop of blood sliding down his face.
“That was sweet of you,” I whisper to Dorian as he threads his fingers through mine. “He needed that.”
“We both did,” he replies. “And I meant it. Cyrus is fiercely loyal, as well as intelligent. He always has been. And while I know he loathes what he is, I’m not sorry for saving him. And if I could’ve done the same…”
I squeeze his hand, and pause mid-step, prompting him to turn around to face me. “You did all that you could, and I am proud of you. And you know he is somewhere up there, looking down at you and feeling that same sense of pride. He loved you, Dorian. He admired you. And he would not have wanted to live the rest of his days as anything other than your younger brother. We have to let him go, baby. This is what he wanted. To find peace.”
Dorian leans forward and kisses my forehead to hide the flash of pain on his face. But he knows I’m right. Niko would have hated being turned. That wouldn’t have been a life for him.
We’ve resumed our advance into the crowd when someone grasps my hand. I think it’s Morgan behind me, trying to get my attention, but I find that it’s a tiny elderly lady sitting at one of the banquet tables. Her hair is the color of freshly fallen snow, and stops at her waist. She wears a long, brown robe that looks like burlap. And her eyes…her eyes are opaque.
“Excuse me,” I say politely, leaning forward. “Are you alright?”
The woman doesn’t meet my gaze, yet she peers at the connection of our conjoined hands, her wrinkled face focused in wonder. “You burn, child. There is holy fire within you.”
“She’s blind,” Alex murmurs from over my shoulder. “The oracles are always blind. Yet, they see.”
“I’m sorry,” I say to the woman who still hasn’t let go of my hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No. No help required, child. For I am here to help you. You see, there is life within the fire. You need not be afraid, for it is good. And strong.” And just as quickly as she grasped my hand, her palms are on my abdomen—boney, pale fingers against the silk of my dress. “Yes, good indeed. A fighter. Yet, there is compassion within the tiny heart. And love.”
She lifts her chin and aligns her eyes with mine as if she can see right through me. See right into the depths of my soul. “It loves you, child,” she rasps, before turning those haunted eyes on Dorian. “And you, its father.”
I gasp aloud and take a step back, placing my trembling fingers against my lips. “But…but that’s impossible. I’m cursed. I…I can’t…” I look to Dorian who is as white as a sheet, his own gaze wide with bewilderment.
The old woman smiles, revealing more gums than teeth. “The life you have lost lives within you. It stays with you now.” Then as if she were in a trance, she shudders, blinks a few times and turns back around to her meal.
I can’t think. I can’t feel. I just keep trembling, as a thousand emotions flood my body at max speed. This can’t be right. It just…it can’t be.
Dorian slowly comes to my side and pulls me against him. Then with his own shaky hand, he gently touches my belly, so softly and lovingly, as if he were holding a heart in his palm. I look up at him with tear-filled eyes to find that he’s smiling. Beaming with love and pride. And hope.
Then the unthinkable happens.
He laughs.
Dorian laughs so heartily that the entire room pauses to watch him. Tears spring at the crease of his jovial, blue eyes as he releases days, weeks, months, years of repressed emotion. I stare at him in awe, absorbing the feel of his hand against my womb and the pure joy pouring out of him. Feeling like everything will finally be ok.
A photographer asks to capture the rare moment, and we happily oblige. I wave our friends over, and Morgan, Lars and Alex squeeze in with us. Cocooning us with love.
I think back to that photo on my nightstand, channeling the chaotic bliss that my mother must’ve felt that day—the fear of the unknown coupled with the sheer joy at sharing her life with the people she loved. She knew what she was embarking on was crazy and dangerous, but she did it anyway. Because love was worth it. To her, I was worth it.
“Ok, now smile,” the photographer says.
And the five of us do just that. Because right now, we can be impossibly happy. We can find triumph in the destruction. We may make mistakes and stumble and fall. But we know that someone is always right there, lending a hand to pull us right back up. We may not know what lies on the other side of forever, but for now, that’s ok. We’re content with being here. Right here in this moment.
That’s the magic of life. Those times that make all the heartbreak seem bearable. They may be few and far between, but we know that morning always comes after night. Because where there is darkness, there will always be light.
My life was a beautiful tragedy.
But this isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.
I’M GOING TO tear the damn doors off.
I can’t stand this. Can’t stand to hear her pain. And while I may no longer feel it, it penetrates me to the core, infiltrating tissue and bone. The sound of her screams… I have to do something. I have to stop her suffering.
“Fuck this, I’m going in,” I growl, heading for the double doors. Alexander stops me before I can get within five feet of them, banding his thickly roped arms around me.
“Oh no, you’re not. You need to let them do their job, D.”
“Their job? They’re torturing her! Don’t you hear her distress?”
He nearly picks me up off my feet and carries me away, practically shoving me from where my beloved shrieks in agony. “Yeah? And bursting in there could severely endanger her life. You know you won’t be able to stand seeing her like that. So stop being an overly sensitive prick and have a seat until they call you.”
My fists tighten at my sides, and every muscle in my body tenses with blind fury. “I. Am. Not. A. Prick.”
Alexander shrugs before folding his frame into a chair, not even the slightest bit phased by my temper, which would render most men completely speechless with terror. Actually, Alex is one of the few people who isn’t terrified of me. Well…terrified is a strong word. Let’s go with intimidated. Not that that’s what I’m aiming for. But as the Dark king, I must maintain a level of respect and, yes, fear, so that others do not see me as docile. But being that Alexander is my father-in-law, as well as my best friend, throwing around the king card just doesn’t fly with him.
With a resigning sigh, I sit down next to him, shoving my head in my hands in frustration…and dread. It’s been hours. Hours of hearing Gabriella’s pain. Something must be wrong. Oh God…I can’t lose her. I can’t live without her.
“She’ll be alright,” Alex says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Morgan is in there holding her hand. And if anything were wrong, Lars would ensure those Light doctors did everything they could. Have faith, brother. Your queen will be ok.”
“But why does it seem so…painful?” I don’t miss the crack in my voice, and I don’t care. “I mean, the act of ripping a child from the womb is vicious as it is. But can’t they ease her suffering?”
“She’s too powerful, and her body is trying to regenerate itself just as they get it open—”
What? I cringe, a shudder rolling through my body.
“—and she’s burning right through the meds. But that young woman in there…is her mother’s child. She’s a fighter. She’ll make it through.”
I exhale and lean back into my seat, taking a bit of comfort in Alex’s words. Gabriella is a fighter. She fought for me. She fought for Niko. And now she’s in there fighting for our child.
There’s silence on the other side of those double doors. Silence that tells me that something has happened. I spring to my feet, prepared to rush through the doors when Morgan comes out, dressed in oversized, lig
ht blue scrubs. Her face is weary from sitting beside her best friend for hours, trying to lend her soothing words of encouragement. But right now, she seems beaten down.
I manifest right in front of her, causing her to yelp in surprise.
“Dammit, Dorian!” she shrieks, smacking my arm.
“Is there any word? How is she? What’s wrong?” When Morgan doesn’t answer right away, I grasp her slim shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard. I’m anxious, but I know Lars would have my head if I accidently harmed her—king or not.
“She’s fine,” Morgan smiles. “Go on in and see her. Now understand that I didn’t have time to fix her hair or makeup, so don’t be mad at me—”
I’m already gone.
I enter the hospital delivery room just in time to hear my newborn baby cry for the very first time. Gabriella smiles, her sweat-slickened face more radiant than ever, as she takes the squirming bundle in her arms. I take a step forward on shaky knees, and finally, I gaze upon true, immaculate beauty—so rare and wondrous that my chest contracts and expands with the overflow of emotion. I breathe as it moves through me, spurning an endless stream of joy in my veins.
In that moment, something inside me shifts, filling that last piece of hollowness that ached in disrepair. And I feel my dark heart fracture into two, yet it beats more wildly—more vitally—than ever before.
I may have lived lifetime upon lifetime, but I never knew what it meant to be alive until right this very second. For now, my newly rendered heart beats for them.
End.
We've finally made it.
The End.
And while I'm relieved/overjoyed/proud of bringing this series to a close, it's so hard to say goodbye to the story that took me from Syreeta Jennings: stay at home mom & wife, to S.L. Jennings: Author.
That is just CRAZY to me. Absolutely insane.
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