Chapter 23

Chapter

Twenty-Three

I wake slowly, fighting the exhaustion that is still trying to pull me under. The bed beneath me is softer than anything I've ever slept in. I don't want to move. I let my body sink into the thick covers, cocooned in warmth and safety. The ache in my muscles is proof of everything that happened, but for the first time in what feels like forever, there's no immediate sense of danger, no impending doom chipping at the edges of my consciousness.

The dragon sleeps. The amulet is fixed. The fight is over.

For now.

The image of Chester bombards my dreams like a stink bomb thrown into the middle of a dinner party. I jerk fully awake. Maybe not every fight is over, but at least the prophecy is settled.

I groan at the thought of Chester and rub my eyes as I look around in confusion. This isn't either of my bedrooms. I've never been here before. As I stretch, my fingers brush against the cool silk sheets.

I let my eyes drift over the unfamiliar space around me. The room is too classy to be Chester's—thank the gods for that much. The last thing I need is to time slip into that hellish reality.

I reach for my neck to feel the amulet. The setting around the stone feels different, reminding me of the troll. The lack of dead animals and rocks tells me this isn't Morvok's place—not that I thought for a second it would be.

A small fear threads through me. What if the amulet changed time again?

The air is still and cool. Light filters in from behind dark, heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the bedroom. The ceiling is high, and the walls are lined with dark wood, giving the room depth. It reminds me of an old European castle. Everything appears antiquated yet is flawlessly preserved.

I must be in Costin's home. It feels like what I imagined his room would be in many ways. The weight of time is everywhere, reflected in the sculptures and objects around the room.

I brace my weight on my elbows to sit up, wincing as a dull pain shoots through my side. The amulet keeps me from dying, but not from injury. I push the thick blanket off my body. My muscles protest, a reminder of everything I've been through, but the pain is manageable.

It all feels like a fever dream.

The bed is massive, and even then, it barely fills the large room. Intricately carved dark wood posts rise toward the ceiling. The sheets are a deep crimson, as pulled directly out of the vampire seduction kit. They blend with the medieval feel of the room.

Cool linen fabric tangles my legs and tickles my neck. The feminine nightgown is not mine. I would never buy something with such voluminous folds. Billowing sleeves cover my arms, only to cinch around my wrists. Lace and ribbon pull against my breasts before endless folds encase my waist and legs.

"Am I dead?" I frown, pushing up from the bed. I cross to an antique mirror. The image is a little distorted, but I can see myself staring back. This gown looks like something a Victorian ghost would wear to haunt an old mansion. The amulet hangs over the gown.

My curls are wild around my head. They air-dried while I slept. I've been bathed. I don't remember doing that.

"Please let this be Costin's home," I whisper to my reflection .

I wander around. The floor creaks beneath my steps. It's like stepping back in time into the life of a man who has lived far longer than I can even comprehend.

I touch the amulet. Part of me is having a difficult time believing it's really there.

I feel safe in this room, tucked away from the world. If I don't look out the windows, I can imagine I'm far away from life. Mortimer can't find me to force me to sign the betrothal agreement. Chester's reedy laugh can't penetrate the silence. And Conrad can't threaten to kill everyone I care about.

There's a dormant fireplace across from the bed, its mantel cluttered with items collected over centuries. I let my fingers glide over them, dancing across the lip of a gold goblet encrusted with gems before lifting the lid to a jewelry box shaped like a tiny chest. Costin's rings and broaches are neatly laid out inside, and I smile.

It is his home.

To the side, a long, low bookcase is filled with thick, leather-bound books. A narrow space along the edge, about the width of the prophecy book, is empty. I hesitate before pulling one of the volumes. The cracked spine gives weight to its age with spots rubbed smooth in the binding as if it's been read many times. It's written in a language I don't recognize. I put it back, thinking it's best not to wake up any other prophecies. I've had my fill of fate and destiny.

On top, scrolls are stacked into small pyramids, tied with faded ribbons. I wonder what stories are locked away on this shelf. How many pieces of history has Costin witnessed firsthand?

And then there are the weapons.

A sword hangs above the fireplace, mounted on the wall, the blade long and slightly curved. The hilt is encrusted with rubies that match the goblet. Like everything in the room, it looks old but well-kept. Next to it is a battle axe and a spiked ball hanging from a chain. Next to the fireplace is a set of medieval armor, the gleam of polish unable to hide the nicks and dents of time. I imagine Costin has seen countless battles in some long-forgotten war.

This room—this place—it's a glimpse into Costin's life. So many centuries. So many moments.

How can a mortal woman possibly compete with that?

I'm twenty-eight. He's eternity.

The amulet will protect me from death, but I don't know what that means in the long term. What happens as I age? Will I just get older, kept alive by Draakmar's magic? Even now, I feel the dragon sleeping, its steady breath carrying it through dreams .

I did it. I controlled a dragon. I stood against a force of destruction and… turned it into a pet.

That will teach Astrid not to let me have a puppy.

I try to make myself feel better, but the fear lingers beneath the surface.

I might not know what this victory looks like in the long run, but its weight hangs heavy on my mind. I can't keep running from who I am. I'm a mortal, protected by a dangerous amulet that borrows magic from a grumpy, ancient being. I'm tied to the supernatural world in ways I never wanted to be.

No longer merely mortal, but mortal still.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting the frantic thoughts tumble through me. I mended the amulet, but in doing so, I ensured I'd never live a normal life. I saved the world. I did that. What else am I capable of? What does it mean for my future? I'm no longer just a bystander in the supernatural world—I'm part of it. And as much as I've fought it, as much as I've tried to hold on to the idea that I could have a normal life, I know now that's not possible.

I can't keep running from who my family is.

I'm proud of what I've accomplished, but at the same time, I'm terrified of what I have become.

I grasp at the neckline of the gown, the fabric constricting my throat. Tilting my head backward, I draw a deep breath.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. Costin comes quietly into the room. He's dressed in a simple black shirt and dark pants. Looking at him, there is no sign of the struggle we've just been through.

Long black hair hangs around his shoulders, showcasing his handsome face. He's so beautiful, achingly so. My heartbeat quickens.

What will we become now that the prophecy is done and his obligation to me is finished?

Neither of us speaks. He crosses the room, the shuffle of his boots the only sound in the quiet space. His eyes stay steadily on mine, and I see something I don't expect. I'm used to him being impossible to read, or domineering, or annoyed. But this is…

Vulnerability.

"You're awake," he says, his voice deep and rough around the edges. He sits on the end of the bed.

I nod. "Yeah."

A smile touches his lips, but it quickly fades. He stares at his hands, watching them flex open and shut as if gathering his thoughts. I try to think of what to say to him. Nothing brilliant comes to mind.

"You—" I start to speak when he doesn't.

"I—" he says at the same time .

I give a small laugh. He gestures for me to go first.

"You have a lovely home," I answer.

He glances around at the compliment. "Thank you."

We fall again to silence. I rub my shoulder, trying to work the knot out of one of my many sore muscles.

"Do you remember everything?" I watch him closely. "Time is what it should be? Everyone is all right?"

"There might be a few casualties from the dragon's stroll around town, but I think it's mostly property damage. There is enough magic down there to rebuild. They'll be fine." He must feel me still staring and adds, "Yes, time is normal—prophecy, troll, what we did in your bedroom, the subway, the labyrinth, your defeat of Draakmar."

I give a big sigh of relief, and we fall back to silence.

Finally, as if coming to a decision, he looks at me. His voice is low, almost frustrated. "I failed you."

I frown, shaking my head as I step toward him. He lifts his hand to stop me.

"I wasn't there to protect you." Costin is always so composed, so sure of himself. But now, there's an uncertainty in him I've never seen before. "I had one duty, an oath to your grandfather to protect you, to see you through the prophecy."

I shake my head in denial, taken aback by the admission. "Oh, no, Costin?—"

"You faced the ultimate battle with the dragon alone, and as a reward, I attacked you and nearly drained you dry." He doesn't look me in the eye. "If not for the amulet, you would be dead, and it would be my fault."

"But I'm not dead." I momentarily forget my body aches. I go to stand before him. "You didn't fail me. Costin, you've been there for me through everything. You've protected me and stood by me when no one else would have. You've always protected me. I didn't realize it at times because I was a kid, but you have always looked out for me. You didn't fail me. You never have. It was my fate to tame Draakmar, not yours."

His jaw tightens. "I should've been there. You shouldn't have had to face that alone."

"I didn't." I kneel on the floor before him and place my hand on his. "You were with me the whole time. Maybe not physically, but you were there. I could feel it. I knew I wasn't fighting alone. Very few vampires would have gone to such extraordinary lengths for a mere human as you have."

Human connection, a mortal's magic.

There's a long pause between us, filled with so many unspoken words. I've been guarded, closed off when it comes to admitting my feelings for Costin. But here, in this place, in the aftermath of everything, I can't keep running.

"Anthony made it home safely," he says. "Your mother coddles him in magic, but he is mending."

I sigh in relief. "I almost feel sorry for him. Lady Astrid's attentions can be worse than her neglect."

"I told them you were safe."

I glance at his shoulder. There is no indication of the wound. "You almost died protecting him in the tunnels. Thank you for not leaving him."

"He asks that I bring you home. I think he's worried about Conrad's vengeful spirit coming after you. Conrad should be drained at the moment after the second trial, so you are safe."

"You know, vampire, we surprisingly have something in common." I try to smile and lighten the mood. "Both of us have siblings willing to kill us to get what they want."

He frowns. "I do not find that amusing."

"I mean, relationships have been built on less," I keep trying. The attempt is lame and doesn't work.

"Lady Astrid asked me to send for a necromancer to collect the spirit so he can do no further harm. Elder Leviathan will be happy to have me owe him a debt. Conrad will not be bothering you again."

At that, I stiffen. "What does that mean? "

Damn. Even now, I care about what happens to him. What is wrong with me?

"His soul will be put in a place where he can do no harm."

I think of the two demons haggling over the soul in the jar.

"The necromancer won't…" I'm not fully sure what necromancers do with souls. "He won't give Conrad to demons or anything, will he?"

Costin does not look as concerned about this as I do. "I will make sure he does not."

"Thank you." The idea of Conrad being stuck in a jar doesn't sound like a great end, but then what else can we do? His rage needs to be contained before he acts on all his threats.

"Of course." He nods. "I'd do anything for you."

A small guilt lingers in the shape of Paul. Maybe, in another life, that would have been my path. But, after all the alternate timelines, I've had enough of other lives. I'll save Paul for those quiet, private moments when I let my mind drift. He'll always be a what if, but Costin is here. He's real. He belongs in my supernatural world.

"I don't know what comes next for us or if I'm being presumptuous in saying there is an us," I say. "I'm not sure how to handle all of this. But I know one thing. You've been with me through some of the hardest moments, and I don't want to keep pretending like what I feel for you isn't real."

Costin's eyes lift to meet mine, and there's a flicker of something deep in his gaze—something I've seen before but never allowed myself to truly acknowledge.

"This thing between us," I continue, my hand still resting on his, "it's real, Costin. I feel it. And I think, maybe, you do, too."

His hand shifts beneath mine, turning palm up to intertwine our fingers. The gesture is simple but speaks volumes. He doesn't say anything, but the way his thumb brushes over my knuckles tells me everything I need to know.

He's never been a man of long conversation. That's okay. Words aren't needed.

I lean toward him. My heart pounds, but it's not fear that drives the heady rhythm. It's something deeper, something real. When his lips brush mine, it's tentative at first, as if neither of us is quite sure how to proceed. Gradually, the kiss deepens. All the emotions I've kept locked away spill over onto him—fear, insecurity, relief, desire. They're all there, churning into that one perfect kiss.

He pulls back first and leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. His hand still holds mine tight. "We'll figure it out. Together."

I believe him.

My entire life, I've been pulled between the human and supernatural worlds. I've walked a tightrope between the two. No matter how hard I wish, I'll never be free of my family's legacy. The supernatural realm will always overpower the mortal in me, but I'm not facing it alone.

With Costin beside me, maybe—just maybe—I can face whatever comes next.

I push against his knee to stand. "How much time do we have until you take me back to the penthouse?"

"Never, if you so wish."

"What time of day is it?" Frowning, I look at the light coming through the curtains. "Should you be in here? The sun?—"

In a panic, I stand and rush to pull the curtains closed.

He chuckles. "Open them and look."

I hesitate as I pull the thick, velvety material away from the wall to peek, careful not to let too much light in. There is no window, only bright lights on the brick wall to mimic the sun coming through the windows.

"We are underground. This is my crypt," he explains.

I let the curtain drop back into place.

"Sunrise is in a few hours," he says. "You were asleep for almost a full day. "

"Then we'll leave in just under two hours." I smile as I return to the bed. His hands press against the soft material at my hips to pull me closer. "As much as I would love to avoid familial duties and stay here, I have things I must take care of."

His hands stall on their way up my back. "Tell me you are not going to agree to marry Chester Freemont."

I give a dramatic shiver. "That is one of the issues I need to address."

"And the others?"

"Anthony will tell my parents about Conrad. I think it's time I told them all the truth." It is a conversation I don't want to have, but it will help me explain why Mortimer's premonition won't come true. "I don't want to think about all of that now."

"What would you like to discuss?" His words are filled with meaning. He pulls a zipper, undoing my gown down the back with a wicked grin.

I feel like there are things we need to work out, but for the life of me, I can't think of what those might be. Costin is not perfect. Then again, neither am I.

Before I can answer, I'm lifted into the air and flipped around to land on the bed. I bounce on the soft mattress. Costin comes over me, stroking my hair away from my face.

"Stay here with me," he urges. "Never leave. "

"Tempting," I whisper, lifting my head to receive his kiss. "I'm here now."

His hand glides down my body, pulling the Victorian nightgown with it. The material traps my arms to the side as he exposes my breasts. He gives my mouth a tender kiss before moving to nuzzle my throat and then caressing his way down my chest.

"Two hours is not long enough, but I will make do." His lips feel warm, like he's already fed. I try not to think about it. If I'm with him, I must accept that he is a vampire.

I feel his hard body above mine, pressing me down. I try to free my hands to explore, but he doesn't let up. His mouth continues its slow, torturous march across my chest. He is centuries old, and yet he somehow manages to make me feel like I'm the first woman he's ever touched.

I feel the brush of his cock against my inner thigh, padded by the thick material of the gown.

"Get this thing off me." I wiggle against the material to be free.

He laughs. Within seconds the press of his body is gone, and I feel a whoosh of material sliding off my body like some magician's trick to leave me exposed. Just as quickly, he is once more on top of me, having discarded his clothes in mere seconds.

There is nothing between us but my amulet and the hard length of his member moving along my thigh. He pulls my knees, lifting my legs so that he can settle between them. I gasp at the intimate contact. There is a domineering, controlling nature to him. This is a man used to getting what he wants. And no part of me wants to deny him.

He kisses me, so deep and long that it steals my breath. His hands move, expertly gliding over my skin. Time holds no meaning. I know he's not mesmerizing me, but I feel myself being drawn into the vortex that is him. And I never want to come out.

He rolls onto his back, gripping the soft curve of my ass to pull me with him. The movement draws me down onto him. We make love in measured, slow, deep strokes. I stare into his eyes, completely unafraid of him.

His hands seemed to be everywhere, touching everything. I'm oblivious to anything but him. We roll around on the bed almost as if it's a battle, pinning each other down to have our way.

Our climax builds, and the moment is bittersweet. I want the release, but I don't want the sensations to end. I don't want to wake up from this dream to find reality waiting for me. I want his touch to last forever.

I feel connected to him. After so long feeling alone, it's nice to have somebody there with me. I don't have to explain things to him. I don't have to worry that he'll discover the supernatural is real, like human boyfriends in the past. Conversely, I don't have to worry that he'll use me for access to my supernatural family because he doesn't need the Devine's influence. He's powerful in his own right.

I roll on top of him, needing release. It keeps holding my hips, controlling the pace. His grasp tightens. The pleasure builds until it has no place to go but to erupt inside us in a crescendo of perfect gratification. He stiffens beneath me, and I above him.

The pleasure racks through me, leaving me spent as I drop down on top of him. Our bodies still joined, I lay still, breathing heavily.

Worries try to worm their way in, but I refuse to think of them now. The future will come no matter what. After all, fate cannot be changed.