She felt Kyran’s eyes burn into her and sweep across the rise of her chest. She was flushed with arousal and shame. In her scattered memories of the past, she always felt that Kyran cared for her. He’d been her friend and confidant. Mostly, she told him about her disappointment in Titus. The memories started to flood back as Kyran gulped down his vodka and slammed his glass on the bar. He strode across the room toward Desdemona where she stood behind Titus.
“Patrice?” he said hesitantly. “Is that you?”
“That’s what they called me two thousand years ago,” she said breathlessly.
Her heart so wildly slammed in her ears it deafened her from her own thoughts.
“What are you doing here?”
“Desdemona is my betrothed,” Titus said.
“Betrothed?” Kyran asked. “You haven’t claimed her yet?”
“I’ve only just arrived,” Desdemona croaked.
“If you were my mate, I wouldn’t wait to claim you,” Kyran said.
“Things never change, do they?” Titus said in a tight voice.
“Relax, Titus, you should celebrate your victory.”
Titus growled at Kyran, and Desdemona bristled with anxiety. She could feel the heat of the men’s competition radiating between them and she stepped away, not wanting to get in the middle of it. Her previous fantasies about having two men fight over her went right out the window when confronted with the reality of it. She didn’t want them to fight over her. She didn’t want them to fight at all. In fact, she wished that they would both leave her alone.
“I think I’ll get a drink,” Desdemona said, sidestepping around Titus and the edge of the couch to make her way to the bar where Ajax was playing bartender for the immortal players who had gathered in the VIP room.
“What’ll you have?” Ajax asked her.
“Could you pour me another glass of champagne?” she asked.
As a nineteen-year-old who’d been living on a rustic compound and then a witch school, Desdemona did not have the greatest tolerance for alcohol. She was already beginning to feel a little tipsy from the two glasses she’d already had. But with the two men who had fought over her in her previous lifetime, standing in the same room, staring each other down, she thought that maybe now was a good time to work on her tolerance level. If worse came to worst, at least she’d get a little drunk.
Ajax poured her another glass of champagne and set it on the bar in front of her. She thanked him and slowly brought the flute to her lips.
“What are you going to do about that?” Ajax asked her, nodding toward Titus and Kyran as they stared each other down across the back of the couch.
“What can I do about it?” she asked, gulping down more of her champagne.
“You can do what you agreed to and allow my uncle to claim you. None of us can afford a witch getting between immortal allies right now. As much as I feel for your plight, Desdemona, you have to accept your responsibility for the future of our world.”
“I have to accept responsibility for the future of the world? Nice. What about everyone else?”
“Everyone else? We are all doing our part. For example, today, I put together a football game to entertain all the humans living in the city. Something like that is incredible for morale. People are going to be buzzed for weeks to come, all thanks to me. But you? You are just playing the leaders of two of the strongest clans against each other. That is not very helpful.”
“Unlike you,” she said with a smirk, “I’ve been dying repeatedly for the past two thousand years. Honestly, the future of this world doesn’t seem like it’s my responsibility.”
“You know what? You and my uncle have much more in common than you realize.”
“Titus and I have exactly nothing in common” she said.
“Except the fact that you’re both little bitches,” Ajax said, lifting a pint of beer to his smiling lips.
“Great. Just great,” she said taking her champagne glass and walking away from the bar.
She did not need that kind of abuse from Ajax. She didn’t need it from anyone. Her world had been turned upside down repeatedly and now everyone was asking too much from her. They wanted things from her that she was not willing to give, and it wasn’t fair.
Just because everyone told her she had all these responsibilities did not mean she was willing to take them. If she could snap her fingers and go back to a time before the Dark Sun, she would do it in a heartbeat. She wanted to forget all the trauma and heartache and death.
The drama of her past life was still just a dream. Her memories of before the veil were fragmented and fuzzy. Yet it was something she was expected to base the foundation of her reality upon today. She refused to do it. If Ajax thought she was a little bitch and if Titus thought she was a little brat, she didn’t care. Neither of them understood how difficult this was for her and neither of them seemed to care. Because of that, she didn’t care what happened to them, or to their world.
13
“It’s only fair that I get to spend time alone with her,” Kyran said, swirling the vodka in his glass as he stared Titus down.
“That’s never going to happen, my friend,” Titus said, his voice tight.
“Perhaps we should ask her what will and won’t happen,” Kyran said as Desdemona walked through the room toward the exit. “What do you think, Desdemona?”
She looked up at them as if she were seeing them both for the first time, her eyes wide and staring. She held a champagne flute in her hand and Titus could smell that the alcohol was having an effect on her.
“What do I think about what?” she asked in a slightly slurred voice.
“Do you think it’s fair that we spend time together? After all, it was me that you chose all those years ago.”
“She is not your mate, Kyran,” Titus growled.
“I don’t know if I want to spend any time with anyone,” she said.
“That would be history repeating itself, wouldn’t it?” Kyran said, his lips curling back over his white teeth, showing the fangs that grew from his canines.
“I’d like to go home if that’s possible,” Desdemona said, staring at Titus.
He wasn’t going to let her stand there in this situation any longer. Kyran was a cad who would do anything to prove himself better than Titus. Now that Titus was Alpha of the Silverdrake clan, and Kyran was still the second to his brother Jerith, their competition was greater than it ever had been before. Titus knew that Kyran would stop at nothing to prove his superiority, even using Desdemona’s confusion to do it.
“Of course,” Titus said, stepping around the couch away from the glaring eyes of Kyran Blackrose.
He slid his arm through hers and escorted her toward the door. She set her empty flute on the side table, and he helped her out into the hallway, and down the hall to the elevator that they took to the ground floor. They walked out the private exit of the Superdome and found the town car was waiting for them. When they climbed inside, Desdemona was silent and distant, looking out on the streetlights dotted in the darkness.
“I apologize that you had to see that,” Titus said.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Kyran was in my life two thousand years ago. I do remember that much. He loved me and gave me his rose, before you did.”
“You didn’t understand then and you don’t understand now,” Titus said, immediately regretting speaking harshly to her.
“Then explain it,” she said haughtily.
“I have only ever wanted to protect you. You have no idea,” he said.
“Then enlighten me,” she said.
He knew she grew tired of the games and the secretiveness. The truth was that Titus wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to tell her. Maybe it was best if she didn’t know. He knew he had no way around any of this. The clan expected him to produce an heir as soon as possible, and he had yet to claim his mate.
With Kyran entering the picture, there was now a question as to whether she would even
belong to him in the end. He felt his control slipping away. He was Alpha of the Silverdrake clan. He couldn’t run and hide from the past any longer.
His old wounds still festered deep in his gut. The sight of Kyran’s eyes looking at Desdemona had stirred something violent and dark inside him. He wanted to hurt Kyran, but part of him also wanted to hurt her, to push her away. As much as he longed to protect her and to finally feel the young supple curves of her body in his arms. Even an immortal as old as Titus could be hurt by the flippant disregard of a young woman like Desdemona. As much as he hated to admit it, she held his quivering heart in her hands.
He let go of her face and turned away, looking out the window at the city streets as they drove by.
“I have always tried to do what is right for you, even when you didn’t want me to.”
“Why do you get to decide what’s right for me?”
“You were a child. Much like you are now.”
“I’m a child and yet I’m expected to bear your young and be your wife. Doesn’t seem quite right does it?”
“I understand why you see it that way. Believe me, I do.”
They pulled up in front of the skyscraper and the driver opened the door for them. They climbed out onto the street and Desdemona was cold and quiet toward him. They walked through the entryway of his skyscraper and took the elevator up to the penthouse, the silence between them hanging like a heavy cloud. They reached her bedroom door. She grasped the doorknob, ready to disappear inside.
“You really want to know what happened?” he asked as she was about to close her door behind her.
She stopped and opened the door again, looking up into his face.
“Tell me,” she said, stepping back from the door, inviting him inside.
He stepped into her room and crossed to the seating area beside the fireplace where he took a seat and waited for her to join him. She sat across from him in an overstuffed armchair and looked up at him with expectant, tired eyes. He knew that she was drunk and overwhelmed. The thought of telling her about the past made his heart slam in his chest. He wished he knew the words to explain it in a way she could hear.
“Before the veil, when you came to the temple for the first time, you were seventeen years old. A child, not much younger than you are today. In those times, before the veil, even amid the violence of the immortal war, immortal mating often took centuries. There was far less of a rush to reproduce. Even with the deaths of so many immortals, the population was healthy. The birth goddesses fulfilled their roles, producing children every ten to twelve months for hundreds of years.”
“Birth goddesses?”
“They were the immortal women who chose that role. Breeding so intensely freed up the other witches from the duty and allowed them to study and practice their magic. Back then, a witch would study at the temple for centuries before taking a mate. There was no reason to do it sooner.”
“What does this have to do with us, Titus?” she asked wearily.
“When you came to the temple you were seventeen. We met that first year when I came to visit my brother Orion and his wife Lucia. The two of them were married for a thousand years and only produced five children. That was what was common for most immortal couples back then. That first time we met, there was an instant attraction between us. Both of us knew it. You were far more vocal about it. I did share your feelings and tried to tell you that.”
“Tried to tell me what?”
“I tried to tell you that I cared for you. But you didn’t believe me. Desdemona, you are an extremely powerful witch, but you lack the mind-reading skill Lucia has. You could never tell what was in my heart.”
“What was in your heart?”
“From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted you as much as you wanted me.”
“That isn’t the way I remember it. From the memories I have, foggy as they are, I remember being like a little puppy, following around the man who gave me no attention in return.”
“I suppose you would remember it that way. That’s how you always assumed it was.”
“And I was wrong?”
“You could not have been more wrong, my dear. Your music could sing down the birds from the trees, but your insight into the hearts of men needs work.”
“So if I was so wrong, why didn’t you tell me?”
Titus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. When he opened them again he took a deep breath and let it out, preparing himself to tell her the truth.
“You were a seventeen-year-old girl in love with a three-thousand-year-old dragon. You wanted to become my mate. You also wanted to become a birthing goddess, giving birth to my children every year for hundreds of years. You wanted to start at seventeen, without your full training at the temple. And as much I wanted to, and wanted to give you whatever you desired, I could not place you in that position. I knew it would not be good for you. You would lose the opportunity to manifest your greatest potential. You needed time.”
“So, you were trying to protect me from what I wanted because you thought I was too immature to do it?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes.”
“Why didn’t you think I could do it?”
“Because no seventeen-year-old girl could do that. You had no idea the kind of strength it took to perform that duty.”
“You didn’t think I was strong enough to be a birthing goddess?”
“Desdemona, your talent is music. You should have focused on your studies for at least a few hundred years. Your desire for me clouded your judgment. I think you thought I would be impressed or honored with your dedication to me and my legacy. But you never understood that I was just as dedicated to your legacy as you were to mine.”
“What about the rose? Where does Kyran fit into this?”
“There was a ritual of the temple and after the ritual, we were intimate. I stopped before things went too far, but I kissed you. After that, you were convinced that we would mate and I would make you a birthing goddess. I couldn’t do it, so I pulled away. I was giving you space to think about your future, and what you really wanted. But by the time I came back to the temple, Kyran had already agreed to make you his birthing goddess. He’d given you a rose, and the two of you were about to be mated. I had to stop you. I had to tell you how I felt. I had never been able to do it before and when I finally tried, he got in between us. I didn’t believe that he truly loved you, and I wanted to protect you from that as well.”
“I don’t want to hear any more,” she said.
Titus could see the realization sweeping over her face and the pain that it caused her. Perhaps now, after so many thousands of years of reincarnating, dying, and being born again, Desdemona would be able to reflect more deeply. As much as he wanted to see her grow and mature, he hated to see the pain in her face.
14
“I can leave you in peace now if you’d like,” he said, standing from his chair.
“I don’t.”
“You don’t what?”
“Want to be left alone.”
She stood and crossed the space between them, moving into the heat of his body. She was only inches away from him, gazing up into his silver-blue eyes. They looked down on her with a mixture of desire and fear. He put his hands on her shoulders letting out a ragged breath.
“I don’t know what to say about everything you’ve told me, Titus,” she said.
His explanation of the past had opened up a new understanding inside her. Maybe she had been immature and selfish back then. Even though she couldn’t quite remember it, she knew he spoke the truth. Just behind all her vague memories was the reality of her own impulsive, stubborn nature. She’d kept it up for years. From the age of seventeen to twenty-one when she’d died, she had pressured Titus into making her a birthing goddess for him.
Shame bit her cheeks as the blood rushed to the surface. He pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms. For the first time, Desdemona collapsed int
o his tenderness. All this time, so many countless centuries and lifetimes between then and now, and she had carried her foolish resentment all along. He really had been trying to protect her from herself. She couldn’t even imagine wanting to be the person she’d asked to be back then. How could she possibly give birth every year for centuries? Even if she lived a hundred years, she couldn’t imagine being prepared for that.
Supposedly, witches remained the people they were before. Desdemona questioned that. She felt she was a completely different person. She had Patrice’s memories, but not her desires. She had an opposite desire as a matter of fact. She could barely imagine having one baby. All Desdemona wanted was to play her guitar and sing.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Titus said, patting her back. “It was a long time ago. You’re a different person now, although you are the same in so many ways.”
“How am I the same?” she asked, looking up into his eyes.
“You’re still stubborn as hell and you want to get your way no matter what.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I know how to compromise.”
“Do you?” he asked, his eyes burning into her.
“I can. You know I taught the younger children at our farm in the mountains. It was a lot of work.”
“I think in many ways you have changed. Your many lifetimes have taught you something. Given you some wisdom.”
“So, my soul is ancient, but my body…”
“Your body is my virgin bride.”
“Your bride?”
“You are if you want to be.”
“I don’t know what I want, Titus. It doesn’t seem like what I want ever matters.”
“Of course it matters.”
“What do you want, Titus?”
“I want what I’ve always wanted: what’s best for you,” he said, closing his eyes.
He took a deep breath through his nose and pulled her against his chest. She let him hold her and listened to the sound of his ancient heart beating. To imagine that this man was five thousand years old still sent a strange thrill through her body. It had only been two years since the emergence of immortals, and their existence still startled her sometimes. Not to mention the impossible truth of her own immortality and magic. What should that mean to her? All the normal human markers of her life would vanish. They would become irrelevant and no longer make any sense.
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