I cleared my throat, turning to Patrick. “Are you holding her prisoner until she concedes, or if necessary, is brainwashed into thinking you’re the pinnacle of the male species?”
Sierra cleared her throat, mimicking the undertone of irritation in mine. “Do I look like the kind of woman he, or anyone for that matter, could hold prisoner?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “I’ve decided to stay.”
“I made a convert out of her,” Patrick said, glancing over at her.
Sierra met his gaze. “It had very little to do with you and mainly to do with that slimy, skuzzy John Townsend and his bunch of Inheritor radicals set on destruction and world dominion.”
“Yeah, but a little had to do with me,” he pressed, certainty in his voice.
She rolled her eyes, a response as essential as breathing when in Patrick’s presence, although she’d picked up on it faster than most. “A little.”
Patrick elbowed William. “I’m growing on her.”
“Like a noxious weed,” Sierra muttered, weaving through the living room towards the kitchen.
Patrick’s eyes followed her the whole way, his neck craning as she disappeared from sight. I had to snap my fingers to bring him back from whatever daydream he’d lost himself in.
“Look at it this way, Bryn” he said, back in the moment, turning to head up the stairs towards his father’s study, although I didn’t miss the look he gave them—like they were insurmountable. “What’s the worse that could happen? You end up Betrothed to me?” he said, wagging his brows back at us. “Could you handle all this?” he taunted, grinding up against the banister. “I’ve had two centuries to perfect my moves. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do if you want to keep up with me.”
“That is revolting,” I said, shuddering with exaggeration.
William pulled me out the door, shaking from his stifled laughter. “We’ll leave you two alone,” he hollered up to Patrick, whose hands were running over the handrail a bit too graphically.
“Think about it, Bryn,” Patrick yelled after us. “There’s more than one brother that leads down the road to becoming a Hayward.”
His voice was on the opposite spectrum of serious, but it was the words that stopped me in my tracks. So much so I think William might have experienced a bit of whiplash. I wasn’t sure if he’d caught Charles’ vagueness when it came to promising William he’d make me a member of this family, but I hadn’t. Especially now with Patrick inadvertently slapping it in my face.
Could Charles’ vagueness have been intentional, a calculated attempt at luring his son into agreeing to his higher calling? I didn’t want to believe it, but I couldn’t say I didn’t completely. Charles had conceded quickly, as if we hadn’t been battling him and the Council for months with not even so much as a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.
“Everything alright?” William whispered. I looked over at him, finding no doubt or concern or anxiety in his eyes. There was nothing but exhilaration coming from him. He didn’t suspect anything, he’s not fretting over the technicality that Charles had not, in so many words, said I’d become a member of this family via William . . . not Patrick.
It was William’s reassurance that gave me a dose of my own. He knew his father better than I did. He trusted him. I would, too. Besides, I was known for being a little paranoid from time to time. Our happy ending was coming and nothing or no one—Patrick included—would interfere with it.
“Never been better,” I replied, not having to fake the smile that came.
“Let’s get out of here, then,” he said. “Like, now.”
“Where are you two kids off to?” Patrick asked, at last ceasing his male stripper-esque moves since he’d lost his audience at hip thrust number two.
“I’ve got to go see about a debt that’s due in full,” he called back, winking over at me. My stomach felt like it was dropping to the molten layer of the planet. Wherever he was taking me, I hoped we got there fast.
I got my wish. We’d no more taken than the first step on the lawn when he ransacked me into his arms, flipping the turbo booster switch to his legs. The wind cut my eyes, so I kept them closed into slits because it didn’t seem right to close my eyes when his face was so close—the face I was so sure I’d never see again.
“In a hurry?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said, sweeping through the trees, ducking and leaping over the boughs reaching out for us. I didn’t need to ask where he was taking me. I’d only been here twice and neither time had I been particularly paying attention to directions, or in my right mind for that matter, but the closer we got, the more I felt it. Calling to me, waiting for me, a tangible relic of William’s and my future together.
His pace remained unchanged as he leapt over the stairs leading up the front porch, only slowing to twist open the front door.
“You’ve been busy,” I said, sweeping my gaze around the room that had been nothing but a skeleton a few months back.
“It turns out when the Council isn’t sending you away for months on end and the distraction of a woman is removed,”—he smirked down at me—“you can get quite a lot done.”
I matched my expression to his. “You’re telling me you were able to finish building a house in two months,” I said, something catching in my throat when I saw the hand-carved bookcases lining the east wall, “while following me around Europe at every turn?”
“I might have had some help with the house,” he said, unapologetic “but someone had to look after you since you certainly weren’t and Paul’s as oblivious as he is in love with you. It turned into a full time job,” he said, smiling through trying to sound serious. “Although this was one job I found thoroughly rewarding.”
“Sorry I kept you so detained from building houses and saving the world . . . and stuff,” I said, nudging him.
He shrugged, taking the stairs three at a time as he headed to the second floor. “No worries. We only need one.”
“Says the man with a seven spread over the world,” I said, catching myself. “Or six now . . .” I bit my lip, reliving the German chalet going up in flames. “I’m really sorry about your house. I promise—”
“Forget about it,” he said, his face unconcerned. “Besides, I’m sure I can think of a way you can repay me.”
“Is that so?” I elbowed him in the ribs, not needing to look to know which room we were slipping into. Like the first time I’d stepped into it, there was an intangible quality moving in the air that defined the room as ours.
“Mm-hmm.” He nodded once, lowering me onto the bed.
“Would this repayment have anything to do with me being situated on your bed in your room at this very moment?”
“Perhaps,” he said, grinning everyway but innocently. “Not exactly subtle, am I?”
“Not one of your strong points,” I said, sprawling my arms over the pillows, trying to tempt him down to me. “It’s good to know you have one.”
“I have many,” he said, my attempts at luring him down working. The mattress rolled as he lowered himself onto it, crawling beside me.
“You don’t have me convinced or, for that matter, every Guardian who believes you are their chosen one.”
He managed something of an eye roll. “Strip away everything that has been attached to me. Immortality, Guardian, a Giver . . . the chosen one,”—he had a tough time saying the words—“behind all of that, I’m just a man. A man in love with a woman.” He twisted his fingers through my hair. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”
I paused, waiting for the voice inside of me to go off. To sneer reminders of all my inadequacies, every reason I didn’t deserve the man lying beside me. The internal critic remained quiet—so quiet I waited another minute, certain it was just taking its time to put together something really nasty. Nothing came, though, and it was in between my pulse points of shock at the mute internal critic that I knew I’d not only gotten my man back, but my confidence as well.
; “So,” he said formally, looking down “If you were all set for running away with me before we were promised a Betrothal, that must mean you’re ready for all that goes along with . . .” he trailed off, needing to give no more clarification.
I felt heat run the full length of my body. “I’d say more than ready. Besides, I’m tired of saying no. I’m committed to a life of yes from here on out.”
His eyes stared into mine, searching for a fissure in my admission. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I winked, reclining back into the mattress. “Let me show you how serious I am.” As if we were tied together by a fixed rope, my movement pulled him forward. My eyes held his, pulling him closer. When he was close enough I could feel the vibrations thundering in his chest, he stalled. Actually, it was more of a yank on the emergency brake.
“I can’t believe this,” he said, hoisting his hands on his hips, drawing my attention to an area of his body that made my breathing more ragged.
“Can’t believe what?” I asked, my chest jack-hammering.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, especially now that it appears I’ve finally worn you down.” He pointed his hand at my sprawled out form over the bed with amused accusation. “You’d better make note of the day and time because I’m sure this will earn me a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records as the first man to say no to a woman making a similar proposition.” He tapped his wrist. “Time—10:32 PM. Date—October 15th. Subject—William sorry-excuse-for-a-man Hayward.” He looked at me, a smile playing at his mouth. “Pursuer—Bryn tempest-extraordinaire Dawson . . . soon-to-be Hayward.”
William rarely rambled on; he was the kind of person who made you think he selected each word with painstaking care. Where most people were at a loss for words in an uncomfortable situation, he had the opposite problem.
It was this that struck me first, seeing him at such a loss, so it took a few heartbeats time to register that he’d just told me no . . . told me no to something he’d been so adamantly yes for.
I shook my head. “Forgive me, I’ve had a tumultuous couple of months, but I thought I heard you just say no.”
He winced, like a recap was physically painful. “You heard me right. I did say no.”
I paused, waiting for the punch-line or for the glint to ignite in his eyes or heck, for the apocalypse. Nothing happened though, so I said everything that was going through my mind
“Why?”
“Because I’m an idiot,” he said, more to himself than to me, before accentuating the space between us. He sat on the edge of the bed—the very edge—like he was saying no to us even sharing the same mattress.
“I want to be with you more that you can imagine—”
I shook my head, ready to mumble something along the lines of yeah, right, before he lifted his index finger to silence my rebuttal. “More than you can imagine. But here’s what I realized a few days ago. I took away so many things from you when I changed you.”
I rolled my eyes, no longer able to stay quiet. “Yeah, and there was this other thing you did called saving my life.”
He continued, unaffected “Naturally, I want to give you everything. I want you to have everything.”
I would have interrupted again, telling him I did have everything just by having him, but his face was locked in concentration and I didn’t want to interrupt his flow. “When I turned you into an Immortal that night, I took away your right to one day have children . . . grandchildren.” He stroked my cheek, apology in his caress. “I took you away from your friends, family, college—”
It became too much. I couldn’t let him bear the guilt of the pieces of my past and the promises of my future on his shoulders any longer.
“William Hayward,” I interrupted, sitting up, “have I not been utterly and unequivocally clear that I don’t have any regrets since I met you?”
“There was this one time you left me not too long ago . . .”
I managed something of a scowl at him. “Yeah, I’m well aware leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and ever will make. That’s hindsight, right?” I bit my lip. “Sorry about that.”
He grinned. “You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”
I crossed my index finger over my heart solemnly.
“Good enough for me,” he said, nodding once. “Back to what I was saying about ruining your life”—he grinned wider when my eyes narrowed—“I know how much I took from you—despite your reassurances otherwise—so therefore it’s my responsibility, my duty, to make sure I spend the rest of my eternity making it up to you.”
“Making it up to me?” I asked, looking at him like he was insane.
“By making sure I give you every opportunity to experience anything and everything possible.”
“Okay. That sounds a little monumental, not to mention vague.”
He pulled my hands into his lap. “I can’t give you children, but I can give you my last name. I can’t give you the kind of wedding you dreamed of as a little girl, but I can give you a wedding night.” His eyes looked into mine and I saw a glimmer of it, that night. It was just a glimpse, but enough to make my stomach knot. “I can’t give you the gentle passing of time as you watch your family expand, but I can promise you a man who will never leave your side. I can’t give you back everything I took that night I changed you, but I can make you a promise that I will spend my existence trying to make it up to you.”
I swallowed, wishing I could have made such professions of love to him delivered with the same eloquence. But what oil was to vinegar, I was to eloquence.
“I know you’re trying to paint a bleak picture for me, but getting to spend the rest of my life with you, just like this”—I ran my hand down his chest, that was equal parts hard and heated—“is anything but sobering.” His eyes closed as my fingers trailed lowering, hooking into a belt-loop of his jeans. “Are you sure your answer is still no?” I asked, shamelessly luring him with my voice.
He kept his eyes closed, squeezing them tighter. “Yes, that’s still my answer, at least for now, because as soon as we’re United you will never hear the word no from me again when it comes to any aspect of elevating our relationship to the next level.”
I unhooked my fingers and settled for circling them around a pillow. I tossed it at his face. “I can’t believe this! You’re impossible.”
He nodded, opening his eyes. “You certainly wouldn’t be the first person to say that. Come on,” he said, pulling me up from the bed. Probably for the best since it didn’t sound like we’d be making good use of it anytime soon.
He slid open a window, letting in the crisp Montana air. “Just a second,” he said, disappearing through the window. A thud sounded above as a hand reached down to me. I grabbed hold and he swung me up onto the roof beside him.
“I think I like where you’re going with this,” I said, taking in the stars sparkling against the blanket of black above us.
“I’ve barely gotten started,” he whispered, pressing me down with his chest against mine.
“Definitely liking where you’re going with this,” I breathed, back pressed into the roof, everything else pressed into him.
He kissed the outside of my mouth, hitching his hands over my hips. “I thought you might,” he said, moving to the other corner of my mouth. “I figure if we’re going to spend a good portion of our time out here star-gazing, we’ll need a lot of practice to ensure we don’t slide off if we’re . . . distracted.”
I felt his body shifting, but it was going the opposite direction of where I wanted him. I might have begrudgingly agreed to wait until we were United for all I wanted to be doing at this very moment, but that didn’t mean we needed to downgrade our level of intimacy to prude status. I moved quicker, ending up directly beneath him again. I pressed my hips into his just so, not feeling the least bit of guilt. There were more things than balance we could practice before our Unity.
His moan was interrupted midstream by a holl
er, followed by his body sliding down and away. I don’t know if his foot caught hold in the rain-gutter or my hand grabbing his stopped his fall, but one thing was apparent either way. William was right about us needing practice, or harnesses, if we planned on making the steep angled roof a regular retreat for our post-Union romance.
“What were you saying about practice?” I asked, pulling him back to me and, small as it was, it felt good pulling him back from the abyss. He’d done it so many times for me, but this was the first time I knew of where I was the one pulling him back from the brink.
“My point exactly,” he said, dusting his hands off on his pants. “Lots of practice. Lots and lots.”
“And lots?” I asked, trying to keep from smiling.
“Exactly.”
“It sounds exhausting, but I think I’m up for the challenge,” I said, lounging back again, waiting for him.
I didn’t wait long. He crawled towards me, settling over me without cushioning his weight on propped elbows. “Me too,” he said, a myriad of affirmations hidden in between the lines of his promise.
Experience had robbed William and me of our naivety when it came to our future together. We’d been slapped in the face by reality before we had a chance to get all idealistic about how life could be for us. There were no rainbows, white horses, or yellow brick roads waiting for us, but here’s why I didn’t care.
I had him.
The rest of it was the make-believe of tiara and tulle twirling five-year-old girls. Even the most imaginative of them couldn’t have dreamed up a William Hayward and I was the girl who got to share an eternity with him.
Happily ever after wasn’t a destination, it was a journey. And we were well on our way.
His lips slid over my neck, giving physical meaning to the phrase, and right before my eyes fell in response, they caught hold of a patch of night sky. A patch where a very familiar star was blaring its brightness, no longer flashing at me like a strobe. It didn’t need to anymore; its message had been delivered. I’d followed its advice, all the way back home to the man I loved.
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