“You’re you, and I’m me. Why is that news?” she asked. “And, in case you’ve forgotten, we had these last names when we started things before.”
“And look at how that turned out.” Roman dropped my hands and stepped back. “You tried to kill yourself, and I…I…”
“You what?” Julia asked, looking up at him.
“I wasn’t in a good place.”
“And what about now? Are you in a good place now?”
“Now doesn’t matter.” He scoffed. “Adam is dead, you’re getting married to another man, and we’re at war with each other’s families for the thousandth time in our lifetimes. None of it matters.”.”
“No we are not. You and I are not at war,” she said.
Instinctively, her hand came up to his arm. It was meant to comfort him, but all it did was remind her how small she was compared to him, and how their attraction seemed to change the energy in the air between them every time they touched. It stole her breath. It made her body ache. It made her want to forget everything and just kiss him and get lost in that kiss until everything else around them disappeared.
But they’d spent years doing that, and the thing is, nothing ever really disappeared. It just went on around them while they hid from the truth. While they escaped in any way they knew how.
Roman closed his eyes and sighed with relief, as though that touch was oxygen and he had been holding his breath for as long as he could remember.
“I’m so sorry about everything that happened,” Julia said. “If I could go back in time, if I could have fixed it…” She blinked moisture from her eyes. “Adam was—”
“He loved you, too,” Roman answered, his eyes still closed.
Julia’s hand moved down Roman’s arm and rested in his palm.
Roman opened his eyes and met her gaze. “You know I can’t let this go, right?”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to.”
“Weren’t you?” he countered. “Isn’t that why you came here tonight?”
“No,” she said, looking him over. “I came to make sure you were okay.” She swallowed hard. “Are you?”
“How could I be?” he asked, without breaking eye contact. “Are you?”
Her mouth twisted with the churning in her gut. “No. I don’t think I am.”
“I haven’t dreamed,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I haven’t dreamed since you left me. I think I was just waiting for you, waiting for you to come back to me.”
“It’s wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?” She couldn’t keep the tears from spilling onto her cheeks now. “I wanted to stay here. I wanted to stay with you. All I’ve ever wanted—”
He pulled her into his body, pressing her tear-soaked face against his chest and holding her there. “I know, baby. Don’t cry.”
“Can’t we just be us?” She hiccupped against him and tried to catch her breath. “Just for one night, can’t we be us?”
“We can try.”
He paused a moment, as if trying to read her expression and figure out if she really wanted this.
She did. More than anything.
Roman pushed against her and his lips dove to meet hers and her body rose as they made contact. His hands went to her face, and hers wrapped around his neck as a small moan passed from her mouth into his.
Her pulse raced, her skin heated, and her legs tensed as her lips searched his, finding everything she’d been missing for so long. His hands explored her body as though he’d already conquered every inch of her, as if he knew this terrain as well as he knew himself, and Julia knew that was true.
His hands tore down her blouse, ripping at the fabric until it split in half. Her breasts, aching for his touch, heaved with every needy breath. She needed him instantly. She needed him five minutes ago. She needed him a lifetime ago, every moment she was gone, every moment she stayed away. When she was with him, she didn’t know why she’d ever even tried. Why had she resisted this? This was inevitable. They were inevitable.
But natural disasters were inevitable, too. That was why she had stayed away. Right now, though, those fears could wait.
His hardening cock nudged against the inside of her thigh, and he shifted his weight so that his thick shaft rubbed underneath her nightdress. So close to where she wanted him to be. Her nipples hardened and the ache between her legs gave way to moisture, to desire that she could not walk away from until she was satiated.
She whimpered against his lips, a silent plea for him to give himself to her. She’d been ready for this since the night she came back into town, and a panic started in her chest at the idea he would pull away again. She couldn’t handle the thought of that.
Roman laid her down on the bed, pulled off his boxers, and climbed between her legs. He swept a loose hair from her face and stared down into her eyes.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, smirking a little. “Are you nervous?”
She pouted, but didn’t respond.
He tilted his head to the side, trailing a finger down her collarbone and then over to her nipple. “Well, you should be.”
His lips traveled down her neck, moved to her chest, and encircled her pert nipple, the flick of his tongue sending sparks through her body. She pressed her teeth into her lip to hold back a moan.
Some part of her was already ready to beg him to fuck her. But that would almost ensure he would wait longer. He loved to make her suffer with need—something she’d learned as early as their first night together, and something he’d reinforced with her over the years.
That had always been part of who he was, in and out of the bedroom. Roman lived to be needed. Once, it had been enough for Julia to need him. But she’d left. Which meant all he had left was his family.
Now she was back—and what would that mean, exactly? That she would break his heart, and her own, once again?
Her muscles tensed, her pulse sped even more, and the torrent of moisture forming between her legs threatened to overflow as Roman’s fingers found their way under her panties.
He teased her with his index and ring finger tracing her lower lips until finally she couldn’t hold back anymore and another begging whimper escaped. Roman grinned, then slipped his finger between her folds and nudged at her entrance until her hips swerved and her moans became more pleading.
As Roman’s fingers entered her completely, her cheeks burned all the way to her ears, and when he kissed her again, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sank her fingernails into his back. He chuckled, working inside of her until her muscles began to tense. Her lips moved from his mouth to his jaw and then up to his ear, and she sank her teeth into his earlobe until he gave her a warning growl.
He was hot and tasted of salt. She had missed that.
She could feel him shuffling and knew he was sliding off his boxers with his free hands. His lips moved back up her neck and, removing his fingers from her, he rested them on her ass and hoisted her up.
She felt the rush of movement and then a slam he drove her into the wall of his room.
“God, I want you, Julia,” he muttered against her as he started to push his thick shaft into her, stretching her until she whimpered again, this time for a feeling somewhere between pain and pleasure. “I need you.”
And that was where her heart broke as he rocked his body into hers. He needed her. Her mind could hardly process that as he brought her to the brink of orgasm and held her there, making her feel physically desperate and spiritually whole all at the same time.
She clenched around him, but it didn’t slow his momentum as he thrust into her hard and fast. His tenderness dissipated, and the love making turned into him fucking away all of his pent up rage, all his hostility and frustration; he was letting go of it now, unloading it on her.
With her orgasm, her legs went weak, but despite the rapid sap of energy, she tied them them around his back and rode his thrusts as though her body had been made for his and his alone, using every last bit of energy she had j
ust to stay until he finished.
When he was done, she slackened in his embrace.
“I…I…” she started breathlessly.
He laid her on the bed and climbed on beside her so her could look down at her, his face just inches from hers. “So do I.”
“I can’t stay, Roman,” she said, her chest aching with the truth of it. She couldn’t stay tonight, and she couldn’t stay with him. Not forever.
He pressed his lips together. “I know.”
“We can’t—” she started, but the magic faded, pulling her away.
She gasped, her eyes flying open, shocking her back into her body.
We can’t keep doing this. That was what she was going to say. And he was going to say, “But we will, Julia. We always will.” And then she was going to feel better.
She pulled her knees up to her chest in her bed.
Was he still there, in his dreams, or had he awoken, too? Did he know what she was doing to say?
Did it even matter?
She flopped down on her pillow again and pulled her comforter up to her ears. Something clattered to the floor, and she inched closer to the edge of the bed to look down.
On the floor was a vial filled with purple liquid and a small piece of paper attached.
She eased half over the side of the bed and lifted it, then righted herself on the bed to inspect the package.
The note accompanying the vial was covered in Roman’s recognizable scrawl.
“This is going to get bad,” the note read. “It doesn’t have to for you, though. Take this when the time is right—you’ll know when.”
She slammed her fist against the bed, the comforter swallowing her tiny hand and deafening her thud.
She’d wasted that visit. She should have talked to him. Or stayed longer. Fought harder to keep the enchantment going. She shook her head. No, that was an excuse. She never should have slept with him to begin with. She should have said what she needed to say—whatever that was. Whatever would stop him from continuing down his dangerous path.
Instead, she’d let him get to her. Let him distract her.
She looked at the note again, but the words had changed.
“No matter what happens, Julia, know that I love you.”
As she read the words, they disappeared from the page. She crumbled the note in her hands and let it drop to the floor, then tucked the vial into nightstand drawer.
Julia stared up at her bedroom ceiling. “I love you, too, Roman. And that’s why I have to stop you.”
14
Roman
Roman woke with a jolt. The ache in his body, the sweetest kind he had ever experienced, reminded him of how he had spent the night.
Looking over, he noticed the candles he’d lit were nearly melted down. Good. That meant the potion he had sent to Julia would be potent enough to work.
He sat up, flashes of the woman he loved rushing through his brain. Though he was alone, he couldn’t help but smile. She had been everything he remembered. Her touch had been like water after a year in the desert. It had been wrong, sure. But he knew that when he started.
Hell, he knew it before he started. From the first moment he saw her, standing there beside April, he knew that opening himself up to Julia would be nothing but trouble. He also knew there was nothing he could do to stop himself.
The connection was too strong. The urge was too primal. It was as if she was a piece of him and—just like survival instinct—he knew he had to keep her safe regardless of the cost.
Roman dressed, throwing on a black t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. He had promised Julia that, for the night, they would forget the struggle pulling them apart.
The night was over, though. The bliss that came with being with her would have to be resigned to memory, replaced by the cool and calculating business of war.
Scooping some of the still-liquid wax from the pool that once was his bedside candle, he placed it into a small container and left the room.
Roman made his way out of the house as a silent blur, forgoing the customary breakfast at which his family would be ruminating on battle tactics.
Though he was all in, he wasn’t up to it this morning. Seeing Julia last night had changed things. Though it didn’t quell his need for vengeance, it did give him a new perspective on what the cost of such things might be.
To that end, he made his way toward the far western end of the property.
It was where his mother was buried and where Adam would soon be laid beside her.
When he was a child, Roman used to come here and talk to the woman. She never spoke back, of course. The magic that bridged the gap between this world and the next had been lost for so long that most magic practitioners swore it never existed in the first place. And necromancy had been outlawed centuries ago.
The way Roman Blackwood spoke to his mother was something far more human than that. He would sit there, legs crossed, staring at her gravestone. He would speak and then let his mind race, wondering what his mother might say had she actually survived this long.
He hadn’t done that in years though. Something about growing up, about hardening, made the whole thing seem ridiculous.
But today, with his brother gone and his life in shambles, it didn’t seem so childish.
In fact, it felt downright necessary.
Roman settled in front of his mother’s marker. He knew more of the world than to think that any part of her that mattered was in the ground. But the part that he knew—her loving eyes, her velvet touch, the strong yet sensitive way that she made the whole world bend until it felt safe—that was all there, buried six feet underground.
He blinked hard, careful not to glance at the freshly turned earth that would mark his brother’s final resting place.
He wasn’t ready for Adam to become someone he ‘talked to’ right yet.
“It’s been awhile,” Roman said, staring at the stone slab. “I’m sorry about that. Things got complicated.”
He sat in silence, long enough to imagine her forgiving him. And then he continued.
“I’m so angry, Mom,” he said, looking away from the stone. “I know that I have to be strong, that you raised me to be strong. But it’s hard. Everything I have is gone. The only thing that makes any sense is her.”
He swallowed hard.
“They’re going to kill her. Even if I wanted to stop it, it wouldn’t save any of them.” Roman ran his hand against the long grass, realizing how unkempt this spot had become in the last few years. “But she doesn’t deserve that and, honest to God, I don’t know that I’d survive myself if she didn’t. So I gave her the Slumber.” He sighed heavily. “I know it’s dangerous, and I know it’s outlawed. And I know—” He scoffed. “God, I know it’s a family secret and the last person I should be giving that potion to is a Fairweather. But I don’t see what other choice I have. The only way they won’t kill her is if they think she’s dead, and that potion is the only way to make it look that way.”
For a long moment, he closed his eyes. Then he looked down at the wax drippings in his hand. “And when it’s over, I’ll use this to wake her up again.” He shook his head. “But does it work, Mom? Does the spell really work? Adam used to say it was a myth, that no one comes back from the slumber, but you always said…you swore…it was the realest magic this world had ever seen.”
Roman squeezed his eyes shut, stopping the tears before they could form.
“It better work,” he said to the grave. “Because I’ve forgiven you for a lot of things. I even forgave you for leaving us. But I don’t think I could ever forgive you if you lied to me about this.”
He waited another moment, as if this time—just this one—she might reach across from the afterlife and let him know, once and for all, if there was any coming back after they drank the Slumber.
“Dad said that’s how you went. That you took the Slumber and never woke up again and that’s why it’s outlawed now. I’d come here, to this spot, even
night for a year with fresh wax dropping, certain you would wake up. Certain you would come back.” He cleared his throat. “It took me years to let go of that dream. But I never doubted you. I never for a minute thought you had lied about that potion. That’s how I knew someone had taken you from us. But now…”
Roman removed the container of wax drippings from his pocket. “But now I’m not sure. Now that it matters—now that her life is really on the line—I just can’t help but doubt you.”
He began to dig small hole beside her grave. “Just in case, though,” he said, “I’m going to do it just the way you said. For the Slumber to take effect, this has to be near something I love just as much as I love her.” He blinked more tears out of his eyes. “There’s only one thing in this whole world, Mom. So I’m going to let you keep this for me until I need it again.”
Pushing dirt back over it, he whispered, “Keep her safe for me, okay?” He swallowed hard, unsure of what the future might bring. “I’ll see you soon.”
15
Julia
* * *
News spread quickly around the coven. Though just three nights ago had been one of the best of Julia’s life, today was quickly shaping up to be one of the worst.
Her mother brought it to her. Though she looked detached—and even a little tipsy—Julia could tell that the news was taking its toll on her.
Aria Fairweather was a near institution in Savannah. She had served the Fairweather coven faithfully for over thirty years, going so far as to take the lead during the great wars.
And now she was dead. The words fell sloppily from her mother’s mouth.
“That’s not possible,” Julia stammered.
But her mother just tipped a little to the side, frowning. A wave of anger rushed through Julia. How could her mother have so little respect for the dead? Couldn’t she sober up at least for this?
But as Julia studied the older woman’s face, she realized what was underneath. Aria had had practically raised Julia’s mother. Many were the nights that Julia fell asleep to one story or another centering on Aria’s escapades with her mother.
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