12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Nero had gone missing.

The moment he had abandoned her to ‘check something outside,' she'd been waiting on pins and needles for his return. That alone was patently ridiculous. They had only known each other for a couple of days; he wasn't bound to her or obligated to turn his entire life upside down to stay at her side.

Despite the strength of Nero's connection to her, Eden knew how she felt for him. Something within her reacted to him in a way she'd never experienced with any man before. It was as if a part of her soul was churning, something that was inherently hers, yet distinctly other. Like a phantom limb, it writhed with sensation whenever he was near.

When he vanished, she had been bereft. Having him beside her seemed to help with the anxiety she faced about her future—even if she hadn't revealed it to him yet.

At some point today, Eden would tell Nero that she was sick. It wasn't fair to keep him on the hook without being transparent. She needed to be honest, even if it cost her everything. He'd offered her a place to stay in his own home to get her away from the Citizens , and now, she needed to come clean about her future. This had been the adventure of a lifetime, but hers was rapidly coming to an end.

An hour after Nero had disappeared, Luna and Key had taken her to the dome. It was an adequate distraction from the missing man, even if some part of her brain continued to keep a lookout.

Across from her, Luna and Key were playing ping pong with varying levels of success. While Key had managed to hold a pleasant back and forth, Luna's aim was atrocious. For the first time in ages, Eden had experienced something she'd missed for far too long: friendship. A hole carved inside of her had finally been filled—if only for a few hours.

"Yes, you've got it!"

The other red head finally managed to hit the ball onto her side of the tabletop court. Gently punting it back to her, she watched as Luna's grin grew and the paddle in her hand connected with the ball once more. And then the ball slammed into the wall behind Eden with a hollow thunk.

"Well, at least that's progress!" encouraged Eden.

"What's progress?"

Her attention immediately shifted to the man sauntering into the dome. Looking significantly less frazzled, Nero's easy smile greeted her as he closed the distance between them. Before she could speak, his lips brushed against hers. The possessive claim instantly spurred her to link her arms around his neck.

Nero's affection had a way of chasing away her thoughts, and when he finally retreated, Eden didn't need to check a mirror to know her face was firetruck red.

"What a greeting," came her far too breathless response. "You ran off like your tail was on fire. Everything alright?"

"All good, professor. How're Luna and Key treating you?"

The question was directed at the women behind her, a thinly veiled threat behind his smirk. Luna motioned to the table and said, "She's a saint. I can't figure out how to get this contraption working."

"Perhaps because it's a paddle and not a contraption, sister." Key's golden eyes blazed with humor. "Eden has been a most patient tutor, my friend."

"Yes, even when I accidentally hit her with the small white ball." Remorseful still, Luna turned somber.

"Luna, you're totally fine; it was nothing!"

Though Nero threw the other woman a menacing glare, there was no heat behind it. Clearly, Nero and these women were close, and Eden adored the fact that he had a support system in place. She hadn't had that in years, and she'd missed the companionship it'd once offered her.

She was reaching out for her mental defenses before the dark thoughts spiral took over. Recentering herself, she focused on the moment—and pretended that she'd left her troubles at the door.

Inhaling to ask Nero where he'd been, the most delicious aroma of blueberry pie filled her nostrils. She looked around wildly, intent on finding the source of the scent. Suddenly, the sweet treat was all she was craving—in addition to a few Advil.

A headache had bloomed between her temples promptly after Nero's abrupt departure. She'd hoped to tough it out, but it'd grown to a full throb now, difficult to ignore. Rooting around in her purse, she grabbed the small bottle and popped two in her mouth, swallowing sans water.

Nero's eyes were fully trained on hers. "Not feeling well?"

"Bit of a headache." She forced a smile, knowing it was so much deeper than that. "I'm sure it's from the time zone change or jet lag. Nothing to worry about."

Nero looked suspicious, but his concern was wiped away when he seized her hand. "I'm stealing you away, professor. My most sincere apologies, Key."

"And what about Luna? Shouldn't you be apologizing to her, too?"

"Nope," he said, putting his nose in the air. "Luna assaulted you with a deadly weapon. I'm snubbing her."

"Luna is innocent!"

"Only until proven guilty," Nero finished, unrepentant.

Eden rolled her eyes. "Bye, ladies."

"Do have fun, new friend!"

He tucked Eden into his side. "Hungry?"

The man was always trying to feed her. "Actually, I keep smelling blueberry pie, and gosh darn it, now I want some! It has to be around here somewhere."

One of Nero's dark eyebrows rose. "When I was walking in, I saw one of the women across the way serving one during a picnic. That blueberry pie?"

"Oh. Huh. Maybe someone brought a slice closer by."

Linking his arm through hers, he pulled her out into the sunshine. While her headache had started to recede, the bright sun's rays made her eyes water.

"Bright out here."

"Should we go back to the house?"

There was a thread of uncertainty in Nero's voice now, a hesitation. If she didn't know better, she would've said it was nervousness. Shrugging off the thought, she nodded and blinked against the sun.

"Sounds good. Maybe I can make you something to eat."

"Nah, I've got it."

Nero's genial smile was all she needed to see. By the time they got back inside the chilled home, Eden was starving, happily watching as Nero shoved aside several notebooks before gathering ingredients for blueberry pie and French toast. He made quick work of the batter before putting a few slices on the griddle and moving on to the pie.

"So, professor Hawthorne," Nero began, his eyes making eye contact across the island briefly, before going back to his work, "do you have any other lectures do you have stored up in that brilliant mind?"

"Oh, I can't even count how many. One for every occasion." Enthusiasm bubbled inside her. "Shifters and Lycanthropy: A Field Guide to Weres; Half A Dozen Men: The Rise of the Reverse Harem Romantasy; Supernatural Shows: A Study of Paranormal Television. Those aren't particularly heavy on the Gothic literature side, but they're what many audiences are looking for."

"Do I even want to know what a reverse harem is?"

She snorted. "I'll spare you."

"Appreciated."

"I've been hooked ever since I was a little girl and began reading about vampires in really cheesy Young Adult novels. I've always been fascinated with the lore, so making it my field of study seemed obvious."

"Vampires, huh?"

"Don't make fun, Nero." Smirking, Eden sat up straighter in her chair and adopted a holier-than-thou posture. "Vampire fiction is one of the most widely read and celebrated paranormal genres."

"Really?"

Eden softened at the genuine interest in Nero's voice, urging her to continue. "Yes! And while vampires are my original love, there's plenty of room in my heart for werewolves, ghosts and reanimated monsters. Fae are my latest obsession."

"Equal opportunity, huh?"

Nero expertly flipped the French toast over to the other side, the cinnamon bread a perfect shade of golden brown. Her mouth watered just looking at it.

"Any supernatural, really." She shrugged casually, picking up her fork and fiddling with it idly as she spoke. "I've read far too many books and not done enough living, I guess."

Nero inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. When he spoke, there was no hint of humor in his voice. "And what if I told you that vampires were real, Eden? That the fiction you've devoted your life to wasn't fake?"

Her sudden laugh cut through the silence between them like a sharpened knife, trying to encourage a smile from the sober-minded man across the island from her.

"I'd say you were absolutely, off-your-rocker unhinged."

Nero still didn't laugh. "I can assure you, I'm perfectly sane."

Eden's smile faded. Not only was he spewing the same delusional pitch that the Citizens had, but he seemed entirely too serious. She waited for the punchline for what felt like an eternity. Eyes wide, she looked around, firmly believing she was about to be the butt of a joke.

"That's—that's hilarious, Nero. But I'm not really in the mood for recreating my meeting with the Citizens just yet."

"I'm telling you the truth."

Freezing where she sat on the stool, Eden battled back the fear response and started cataloging the ways to escape Nero's home. Though she wanted to believe that this was an attempt at humor, nothing in his voice or expression gave that impression. She had traveled thousands of miles with him to his home half a world away—was at his mercy—and now, she felt like the fool.

The blunt knife resting on the top of the butter seemed too far away.

"It's—that's not—" She shook her head in disbelief. "Nero, I know you think this is a joke, but seriously, you're starting to scare me."

He didn't retract his statement, searching her eyes before checking the underside of the French toast. With the ease of someone who'd made them thousands of times, he neatly flipped both of them onto a plate.

"Eat. Once you're done, I'd like to show you something."

Eden was rooted to the spot, her hands curling around the stool so tightly her knuckles were bleaching white. She suspiciously eyed the French toast, until Nero finally gave a lighthearted chuckle.

"You watched me make it, Eden. I'm not going to poison you."

Eden took the offered plate and mechanically dribbled syrup over the slices. What followed was potentially the strangest meal she'd ever had. She attempted to keep her eyes on Nero, who was busy making a blueberry pie, while the sweetness of the French toast seemed to turn to ash in her mouth.

When she was done, she gingerly stood and took the plate to the sink. Keeping the butterknife concealed behind her, she pivoted to face him where he'd rested a hip against the island. His gaze was shadowed.

"Ready?"

"What are you going to show me, Nero?"

An intensely compassionate look settled on his face, reminding her of the man she'd come to know well in the last few days.

"I know it seems hard right now, but I would ask you to lend me your trust just a little bit longer. I vow to you I will never hurt you or allow you to come into harm's way. Your wellbeing is more important to me than you'll ever know."

"Okay. But this preamble isn't actually making me any less tense, by the way."

Her semi-approval seemed to settle him. "Where in the world would you chose to be, should you have the ability to—I don't know—teleport?"

Eden didn't have to think twice. "Eiffel Tower."

"Romantic. I like it." Nero extended his hand out to her, palm up. "May I?"

Eyeing him as though he was a snake about to strike, Eden hesitated, weighing his merit. The cool metal in her hand didn't ease her fear, and she soundlessly put the butterknife back into the sink behind her. Swallowing the bile that threatened to come up, she decided to take one last leap of faith.

Nero waited patiently.

If he had wanted to harm her, he could've done so at any point in time. She'd fallen asleep in his arms several times, and he'd shown her care and tenderness without a hint of reservation. More importantly, he'd saved her life, and even if it made her the most na?ve woman alive, she believed his vows.

Eden's fingers slid over his palm in the next second, determined to see this through. "Alright, Nero. I'll trust you. Show me."

"Eyes open, Eden."

Weightlessness. In the next moment, her entire being seemed to float through space, dissolving into nothingness in a single second. Oddly disorienting, she'd would've gasped if she had control of her vocal cords.

Her feet touched solid ground before panic had time to set in. Eden's vision cleared while she gulped air. She registered that her hand was still locked in Nero's, and it was only when his arm came around her back that she sagged against him, knees trembling.

"What was that?"

"That, my darling Eden, was your first teleport. It lasted less than a second. Take your time, though. It affects people differently."

Her eyes shot open, jerking away from the heavenly warmth of Nero's chest. When she finally registered where they were—in an alleyway near the Eiffel Tower—her mouth fell open. Though they were still a good distance away, far enough that she didn't have to crane her neck up to see the top, it was clearly Paris.

Her mind spun. Only moments ago, she'd been in Nero's home. Now—impossibly—she was halfway across the world. This was too real to be a dream, but anything else seemed implausible. Eden had studied the paranormal for decades, but this was simply too much.

"What." Her eyes were open so wide she must've looked half a step away from losing her marbles. " How . How are we here?"

"A teleport. It's a simple method of transportation for—"

"Did you spike my French toast?" Accusatorily glaring at him, Eden stepped back and held her hands up defensively. "There is no way this is real!"

"It's very real, Eden." He gestured toward the brick wall next to them. "Touch. Feel. Go talk to someone if you want."

"What, and look like a crazy person? I can't just go around asking people if this is real life! I don't even know French."

"I do," Nero's eyes aligned with a man walking on the sidewalk just several paces away. "Pourriez-vous me dire l'heure, s'il vous pla?t?"

"Va chier," came the response, the stranger keeping to his brisk pace.

Eden sputtered, clearly off kilter after the abrupt change of location and the proof that it wasn't all a psychedelic hallucination.

"What did you ask him?"

"The time. He told me to buzz off. That's how you really know it's Paris." At her shiver, Nero lost his joking tone. "Should we try somewhere warmer?"

"Fine, Nero." Eden decided to play his game. "Taj Mahal."

"As you wish."

One dizzying teleport later, she was standing in front of the Taj Mahal, the breathtaking building barely on the cusp of being exposed to the dawn. It unveiled its minarets for them in the soft morning rays, and her heart soared as Nero coiled an arm around her waist. Given the early hour, they were the only people on the terrace overlooking the pool before it.

"Eden."

At the somber note in his tone, she turned to look at the man she was fast falling in love with. She had a feeling that what he said next would come to define her life—or what was left of it.

"I'm not human."