by Jeanne Allen
He tries so hard to get me to laugh, to talk, to do anything but lay in bed.
I manage a few weak smiles and squeeze his hand, hoping to convey my appreciation. This earns me a brilliant smile and more stories.
The rest of the day follows like the morning.
I’m never alone; I have a rotating schedule of Kladí babysitters. Even Daisy takes a turn.
She’s the only one who talks about what happened. She tearfully apologizes for not checking on me right away when I didn’t come back from the bathroom.
She also tells me what the arm-eater was. “He’s called a Kenós. Agora, and some powerful Kladí, can drain Phósopoi of their power after the Phósopoi Awakens. It strengthens their own Willpower or Gift. They do this by drinking the blood of the Phósopoi they want to drain. If it’s an Agora, they can be drained only after they Awaken and after all of their Kladí are killed.”
I vaguely remember Jackson saying the vampiric myths have origins in our people. Now I know why.
“The draining doesn’t kill the Agora. It turns them into a Kenós, a creature who thrives on the flesh of the Agora. Some Kladí become Kenós after being drained as well, but it’s rare.” Daisy stops talking and eyes me.
I shudder. Strung-out surf boy had been eating me. I try hard not to consider what would have happened if Jackson and the others didn’t show up when they did.
Daisy squeezes my hand and gives me a comforting smile. “Like I said, the only way an attacking Agora or Kenós can get to an Agora is if his or her Kladí are dead. It’s our job to protect our Agora, even with our life.”
She sounds proud, like to die for her Agora would be an honor. I can’t imagine one of my guys dying for me, and I don’t want to. That level of devotion and loyalty makes sweat gather on my brow and at the base of my neck. I’m not good enough to inspire it, my soul is too damaged to warrant it.
Daisy eyes my expression and moves on to other topics, telling me about where she comes from, Region Five. She talks about the knights, King Richard, and her family.
I’m thankful for the information, and even more grateful for the distraction.
Long after the windows grow dark, I sit in bed and nibble the toast Lucas patiently charmed me into eating with his voodoo Goblin powers.
A voice I recognize as Jackson shouts from outside my door.
“You can’t go in there! She’s not re—”
The sound of the door banging against the wall cuts him off. It swings open to reveal a stranger. If I was hard-pressed to describe this man, I would say “beautiful” or “breathtaking,” but in reality, I don’t want to describe him. All the adjectives that run through my mind as I stare at his tall, elegant frame and jet-black hair that seems impossibly silky and smooth even in the dim light of my room, would be inadequate and trite.
He stalks toward me and I notice his hair is long enough to tie at the nape of his neck. Flawless features shift in the waning light of the moon; high cheekbones slant elegantly, complementing an aristocratic nose. I find myself lost in the dark, crescent moon-shaped eyes that never stray from mine.
Daisy’s words float through my mind, and at this moment, I understand when she said two years was nothing. I don’t know how long this man waited to find me, but the weight of centuries fills those eyes. They hold wisdom and violence.
I’m reminded of his nickname, The Assassin. He certainly moves like an assassin, silently gliding across the floor with a feline grace. Enthralled by his movements, I don’t realize he reaches me until a hand grabs my chin and tugs my face up to meet those dark eyes.
Ensnared. That’s the word that comes to mind. Unable to bring myself to do anything but sink farther into his touch, I lean into my last Kladí as if starved for him.
“Deudieo,” he whispers, hot breath tickling my lips as he closes the distance between us.
Fingers stroke over the lines of my face, memorizing my features. The gesture is careful, hesitant, like he is touching something precious. Before I can figure out how to respond, he kisses me. Not a loving kiss, or a lusty kiss like my hallway session with the twins. A kiss of reunion.
The kiss of a man who waited too long for something and finally found it.
It’s hard, raw; he devours my mouth and consumes my soul. And I let him, opening up to his greedy tongue and lips. He shatters the last few pieces of who I was before. Old Rose is stripped away, left forgotten on the floor of my new room. What I’m left with is bare and defenseless, more vulnerable than I ever remember being.
It’s both terrifying and exhilarating.
When he pulls away, slowly retracting his lips from mine, they tingle with the memory. I’m shaking but I’m lucid enough to notice every member of my Omás is present and crowding around my bed.
I smile shyly at Forrest, who gives me his signature sexy, slow grin I remember from our first meeting.
Next to him stands Jackson, who distances himself from me, not physically, but with walls he builds around himself, as if unsure whether he should be here or not. Hating this reaction, especially coming from my authoritative professor, my prince, I slide off my bed and move to him.
He reflexively opens his arms, and I snuggle against his chest, conveying with my actions what I can’t say out loud yet.
Thank you. I’m sorry. I missed you.
He sighs and holds onto me tightly, kissing the top of my head. After a few moments, he lets me go, turning me to face Jin who waits silently by the foot of my bed. I know what Jin wants, and I’m more than willing to give it to him.
I hold out my hands to his outstretched ones, lining up our palms. The pre-Bond is fast and painless. Like with Sebastian, I open myself up to the Bond. Now that I know how to concentrate on them, the strands connect me to all of my Kladí, who move to form a circle around me. Once our pre-Bond forms, something settles in me. An odd sense of wholeness replaces the vulnerable, shaken state Jin left me in after he destroyed me with that kiss. Odd, and in a way, supernatural. I feel complete, and instinctively, I know this is unique to the Phósopoi.
New pieces replace the broken parts of Rose, six pieces, six hearts. Jin picks me up and carries me to the bed.
We don’t say anything; we don’t have to.
Their love and devotion clouds the room and wraps around me in gentle caresses. I don’t deserve this, but I vow to earn it. My eyes droop as exhaustion sets in. Jin wraps possessive arms around my body, settling me against his chest. The others reach out, holding a hand, an ankle, a knee. They all need to be near me, to touch me.
The person I was before I met the guys, before the pre-Bond, would be freaking out, but all I feel is something I’ve only glimpsed in the past.
I’ve come home.
I wake up more happy and secure than I ever remember being, especially straight away in the morning. Even when I lived with Mary, the nightmares kept me from simple pleasures like enjoying the morning sunlight filtering through the windows. Complete peace settles over me, snuggled under a pile of arms and legs.
Opening my eyes wider, I lazily take count of the bodies around me. On my right, still holding me close to his chest is Jin. Jackson lies on my left, his leg thrown over my hip in a decidedly un-princely fashion. The twins and Sebastian are gone, but Forrest sleeps at the foot of my bed, head resting against my shins.
The corners of my mouth tug at the sight of his sculpted body on full display thanks to his low-riding sleep shorts and ribbed tank-top. My eyes run over the artwork on his arm and shoulders. I haven’t had time to get to know Forrest, but I’m insanely glad he’s mine.
When our gazes meet, my cheeks flame. He’d been awake the whole time. And probably watching me try to eat him with my eyes.
To my relief, he doesn’t say anything. He lifts himself up from my shins and gives me the same sexy, slow smile he gave me when we first met. That smile. It’s the third time he’s thrown it at me, and I still pant like a cat in heat.
He winks before helping to detangle
my limbs from Jackson and Jin, the latter of which has an ironclad grip around my waist, so I’m grateful for the assistance.
When I extract myself, Forrest puts his finger to my lips to warn me to stay quiet and draws me down the stairs.
In the kitchen, we find Lyle cooking copious amounts of blueberry pancakes. My eyes nearly fall out of my head at the sight. I mean, I know guys eat a lot, but the sheer number of pancakes six of them require is daunting.
Lucas laughs at the expression on my face. “Better get used to it, Sweet Pea. We eat like wild animals around here. His Highness excluded, of course.”
At this, Forrest snorts, helping Lucas set the table with juice and coffee. “Don’t lie to her, Lucas. As soon as he left court, Jackson’s manners stayed behind. He’s the worst one.”
“Who’s the worst one?” Like he heard us discussing him, Jackson strolls in, as impeccable as ever.
How did he get ready so fast? I muse before answering my own question. Duh. Gift of Speed.
I almost hate him for being so put together this morning, but the dark green button-up he wears matches his eyes and shows off the well-built chest underneath, so I let it go. I catch myself nearly salivating at the clearly defined lines of his pectorals.
Definitely more than a little pervy.
Jackson smirks in my direction before repeating his question. “Who’s the worst one?”
Lucas is too busy laughing, and Lyle is as silent as ever.
Forrest answers, “You. We were discussing your nonexistent table manners.”
Jackson’s neck tints at the insinuation. “I-I am not without proper manners! You—” When he turns his indignant eyes on Lucas, the other man defends himself.
“Wasn’t me! Forrest was the one spreading rumors!” He points a finger at the culprit and almost succeeds in changing the direction of Jackson’s ire, but it seems Lucas can’t help but stir the pot a little by adding, “Your Highness.”
At the mention of his title, Jackson’s neck goes from cotton-candy to cherry-tomato. Worry for Jackson’s feelings spurs me to action.
Crossing over to his spot in the doorway, I lay a calming hand on his bicep. “It’s okay. I didn’t believe them anyway. You are nothing but a gentleman.”
Jackson breathes out slowly before offering me an apologetic smile.
Forrest rolls his eyes at us, but winks at me before warning, “I didn’t lie, but you’ll see for yourself. I give it a month before he shows his true colors.”
Lucas’s eyes glint at Forrest’s prediction. “I say two weeks. She’s our Agora, so she’ll be around all the time.”
To my surprise, Lyle contributes as well, speaking quietly as he sets another plate of steaming pancakes on the kitchen table. “I say six months. We’ll be in Phóspolis soon, so he’ll be reminded to behave by being in shouting distance of his mother.”
Jackson cringes at the mention of his mother, which makes me giggle. A prince with mommy issues. I try to let Lyle’s casual mention of our move to Phóspolis roll over me, but I can’t seem to do the same with the equally casual mention of the fact that they expect us to be together in six months. It’s not the normal hoping-to-be-still-together like the couples I’ve observed. He’s said it with absolute certainty.
According to the guys, once we Bond, this Omás thing is forever.
The thought of trusting someone to spend forever with them makes my arms prickle and my chest tighten. I swallow the panic that rises, forcing myself to think of the guys as my new boyfriends.
Six boyfriends, but still better than the whole soulmates forever situation. Albeit actually six super-hot, live-in boyfriends who also happen to be superhuman.
I sigh wearily, waving off the guys’ concern. Taking another deep breath, I ignore everything to do with the future and focus on what’s happening here and now. It’s another coping technique. If I focus on the present, I don’t freak-out about the past or future.
Lucas gives me an encouraging smile. He can sense my feelings, and I’m grateful he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gazes at me with oddly serious eyes for a moment. I catch what he wants to convey, and it relieves a bit of the weight crushing my shoulders. If I ever want to talk about all this, Lucas is waiting.
Lyle interrupts our moment by shooing us all to the kitchen table, which is now completely setup with a breakfast smorgasbord. “Sebastian and Jin will be joining us soon, but we should start eating first. Those two take hours to get ready.”
“Especially Jin,” Forrest grumbles. At my raised eyebrows, he continues. “That man cares more about his appearance than most women I know.”
Jackson shoots him a quelling look as we sit down. “He has a reason. It’s part of his job to look good.”
“What does he do?” Leaning forward, I strain to hear the answer.
I’ve been dying to know what kind of business Jin spent so long closing up in New York. It must be lucrative. Last night, he wore clothes made with expensive materials, though I couldn’t tell the brands.
Meaningful looks exchange over plates of rapidly disappearing pancakes, a silent conversation I am not privy to. Ignoring them, I focus on eating Lyle’s excellent cooking. After only a few weeks, I’ve become addicted to his meals.
My mouth is full of bacon when Jackson answers my question. “He’s done a lot of things, but currently—”
“I’m a fashion designer,” Jin cuts in, taking the empty seat to my right.
He greets me with a soft kiss on the cheek before loading his own plate with breakfast. Sebastian slides into the chair next to him and does the same.
“Before that, I was a model. I modeled for about ten years before finding my passion in making the clothes I was showing off.” He gives me a sly smile. “And before that, I was the leader of the Elites. They’re the Knights of Region Thirteen. The most prestigious and dangerous post for a non-royal; that’s where I got the nickname Assassin.”
Lyle’s delicious pancakes turn to ash in my mouth, and I swallow quickly as I do the math. Finally, here’s the proof of the secret the other Phósopoi alluded to for weeks, what I caught a glimpse of in Jin’s eyes last night. I’m nearly sure of my answer, but I need verbal confirmation.
Gathering all of my courage, I hold his gaze. “How old are you?”
It doesn’t take long to lose myself in those bottomless eyes once again.
“I was born in what is now known as South Korea in 1897,” he answers plainly.
I do a quick calculation in my head. “One hundred and twenty. You’re one hundred and twenty years old.”
He nods, never straying from my gaze, not even when my fork slips from my grasp, hitting my plate with a clatter.
It takes the better part of the morning to get my head wrapped around his revelation.
Mutants? Sure.
Mutants with superpowers? No problem.
But apparently, my brain draws the line at immortal mutants with superpowers, though the guys assure me we aren’t technically immortal.
“What do you mean technically?” I bring out the air quotes for this one. This stuff makes me snappy.
After breakfast, we went back to the big couch in the living room. I’ve nicknamed this spot the-place-everyone-tells-Rose-the-messed-up-fudge-nuggets.
“Well, remember when I told you we go through puberty three times?” Sebastian starts, his calm demeanor doing nothing to quiet my anxiety.
My nose wrinkles. I remember, and I’ve yet to go through the second puberty.
Jackson takes over, putting on his Lecture-Time voice. “We already told you about the Awakening. We go through a third change once we reach the age of twenty-five.”
“You Mature?” I guess, remembering the few times it was mentioned.
Jackson gives me a wide smile, like a professor with a particularly clever student. I want to add I’m not a complete idiot but hold my tongue. We apparently have centuries ahead of us. No need to start the pettiness now.
“Yes. Precisely.
” Lucas snickers at the word precisely.
Jackson lays on the professor-voice even thicker. “When we reach twenty-five years of age, our bodies, for all intents and purposes, go into a state of stasis. We can still be killed, but it’s much harder. And we don’t age until it’s our time.”
“What do you mean our time?”
“It’s different for every Phósopoi. For example, if a Kladí does not have an Agora, they tend to age faster. But the general rule for the Phósopoi is the stronger the Agora in an Omás, the longer they all live.”
“You mean—” I catch on pretty quickly, but I like things confirmed out loud, especially when going over the logistics of exactly how immortal to consider myself.
Jackson reaches over and takes my hand. His eyes are steady and serious as he delivers the biggest bomb yet. “Yes, Rose. Once we Bond, and we will Bond, we are bound together for life. You die, we die.”
I nod, then another thought burns like acid in the pit of my stomach, and I have to know. “And if you die first?”
“Only the Kladí are life-bound. If we die, you will live, but your mind may not survive the separation.”
Imagining a world without the guys with me makes me even sicker. I may have just met them, but I know losing them now would already be devastating. These are my guys, my Kladí. I don’t have to voice my worries. Lucas gestures at his brother, who reaches out and rubs my back in that silent-calming thing he does so well.
Taking a deep breath, I push all this new information to the cavern at the back of my mind for later analysis. That spot is piled up with the things I’m avoiding thinking about, but I’m not ready yet for the kind of consideration all these revelations need. I’ll let everything percolate a bit more, promising myself that someday soon I’ll delve into the mess of secrets my life has become.