9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Nero felt the swell of disbelief, awe, and pure joy rise in Eden alongside his own. The original print of Dracula by Bram Stoker was in decent shape, though a little worn with time, but Eden held it with reverence and respect.

"Nero, this should be in a museum. Why is it stuffed in your desk drawer ?"

Perhaps this hadn't been his best idea. "It was a gift from a friend a couple of years ago. I have to admit, it wasn't an easy read, but I feel like I'd have a better appreciation for it the second time around."

"I'll say." She made a sound of utter appreciation. "This is spectacular. Unbelievable. And it's in such good condition—" she glared at him, "—for being in a desk drawer."

He had the good sense to cringe. "I'll put it behind glass."

"Yes, shame on you, Nero. I may have to torture you."

"Please, anything but the Spanish donkey."

Cackling, Eden gently set this down on his desk as though she were setting down a sleeping baby. "What other Gothic fiction goodies do you have stowed away around your office? Should I be expecting a lingchi knife hidden somewhere in your pencil drawer or listening for a heartbeat under your floorboards?"

Just an all-powerful immortal hiding in plain sight , he thought. Before he could remark on her question, a familiar face popped through his door.

"Hey sov—stranger," Zia corrected when she saw he had company. "Just wanted to check in and see how you were."

"Zia," he greeted. "Come in. This is Eden Hawthorne. We met in Chicago."

Her eyes widened as she looked back and forth between us, only then fully realizing who Eden was—and why she was here. His lieutenant gaped for a moment before shaking herself out of the stupor.

"It's lovely to meet you, Eden," Zia managed, her voice sounding like she was close to tears.

Zia, pull it together, he telepathically warned her. Eden knows nothing of us, nor what she is to me.

"Are you okay?"

Clearing her throat, Zia covered up her faux pas by saying, "I've never met an author in real life before! Key has told me so much about your book and honestly, I'm just so excited to meet you."

"Wow, that's two in one day," Eden beamed. "Seems like Key might run things around here."

When Nero went to dispute the claim, he grunted, "That's … actually incredibly accurate."

"Well, it's lovely to meet you, Zia. I love talking about my book—and Gothic literature in general—so please feel free to chat my ear off at any point."

"Yes! I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends."

While Nero glared at his second, Eden grinned. "Absolutely. You and Key are currently tied for ‘best friend' status since you've both read my book."

"I've read it too—partially," Nero sputtered. "Does that count?"

"You get partial credit."

Behind Zia, Jeremiah walked in, glaring down at his laptop with a look of consternation. "Nero, Remmus said the Citizens are plotting another release."

"We have company." With a well-aimed elbow, Zia forced her mate to look up.

He took it all in stride. Balancing his laptop on one hand, he offered the other in greeting. "I'm Jeremiah."

"Eden Hawthorne. I'm a professor at the University of Chicago and staying here for a bit while a couple of things blow over. Citizens things, actually."

Happy the stoke the flames on kinship and maybe spark an idea for his mate, Nero joined in. "Jeremiah just moved here—well, part time—from Iowa."

"We're neighbors!"

"Nice! It'll be great having another mid-westerner here on clan lands."

Frowning, Eden asked, "Clan lands?"

Jeremiah's poker face was nonexistent. He shot a panicked look over at Nero. "Community and clan are interchangeable on the island."

"Ah, gotcha."

Nero didn't miss Zia pinching her mate, a reminder to keep Eden in the dark about their immortality and their clan. It wasn't the right time to broach that topic.

By the time they'd finished introductions, Nero was more proud of his mate than ever. She immediately fit in with his lieutenants, as though she'd always been one of the group. In a way, Nero reasoned, she had. Key had foreseen Eden centuries ago, and she'd always been the extra presence that could never be accounted for.

Until today.

They wandered out of the dome, laughing about Nero's sudden need to finish her book, while he gradually led them down to the water's edge. Eden had assured him she wasn't hungry, and he was content to simply sit back and admire her personality and excitement.

Her enthusiasm grew as they neared the beach, the emotion banking across his psychic senses. As soon as they reached the sand, her shoes were forgotten next to a tree. Grabbing the hem of her dress in one hand, she sprinted toward the water, while Nero gamely jogged behind.

Her jubilant laughter sounded in his ears, over the crashing waves. Everything about this moment was perfect: he'd finally found his mate, and she was everything dreams were made of.

"Aaaaaaa! It's so cold!"

"That, unfortunately, never changes," he replied. "The good thing, however, is that I'm hot, and I'll always be game to warm you up."

Nero's arms cinched around her middle from behind, content with merely holding her. Eden had other plans. Twisting in his embrace, she locked her arms around his neck. She felt so right, like an entity of pure joy and light, made entirely for him. This is what he'd been missing for centuries, the other half of himself.

The promise in Eden's eyes short-circuited what was left of his reason. Tension built between them, an unspoken question lingering. The subtle change in Eden's breath mirrored the kick in his own heartbeat. The way she arched into him was a drug, as was the way her attention lingered on his lips.

Only when she was ready.

But then her mouth was on his, and everything in the world righted itself. At first, it was hesitant, as if she was testing their connection. He responded in kind, letting her lead, and felt her passionate nature wake up, like a slumbering creature responding to the arrival of spring.

Slow and sensual, she kissed him as though she never wanted to stop and couldn't even fathom breaking their connection. Nero's hand came up to cradle her cheek, delicately cupping her jaw and urging her onward. What'd started as innocent and tentative changed as they lost themselves in one another. The kiss deepened, urged toward the edge by explosive feelings of desire.

Finally, breathless, Eden pulled away.

Nero made promises to the fates that he'd keep her lips swollen with kisses every day of their eternal lives together. He could never get enough of the way she tasted.

"It's always been on my bucket list to swim in the Pacific."

One eyebrow rose. "You have a fascination with your bucket list. Should I be worried?"

It took her half a second too long to say, "No."

He could've taken the word at face value if it hadn't been for his psychic senses. What worried Nero was that there was deceit in her emotional cocktail. Before he could ask, she broke the silence once more.

"I've never gone for a swim fully clothed before. You want to go in?"

"Now?"

"What better time?" That delicious green gaze and Eden's ready smirk taunted him. "Come on, Nero, come play in the water with me."

"How can I say no to that?"

Eden strode forward towards the frothy waves, gasping at the contact, clearly chilled. He was reminded again how vulnerable humans were without the supernatural defenses he took for granted. His mate looked particularly fragile to him, and he soon joined her in the surf, keeping an eye on her to ensure she didn't fall or start shivering too hard.

A pang of guilt lanced through him. She had taken his word and come with him to Oahu, secure in the trust that he was telling her the truth. Nero had been—but he hadn't given her the entire story. The fact that he'd kept his immortality a secret sat like poison in his gut. Even though she was here on clan lands, a stray teleport or any hint of a psychic ability would compromise everything.

He knew there would be no better time to come clean.

"Eden, I haven't been entirely truthful with you."

Suspicion flared wildly within her, battering against his ability. "No?"

"We've been tracking the Citizens for years. After the first attack in New York, we realized this wasn't simply a case of vampire hunters who got more of a thrill from the title than the job itself."

"You keep saying ‘ we ,'" she replied, studying him. "Who is ‘we?'"

"A conglomerate of nations who've unified to take them down. It's bigger than just me and my team. It's a worldwide effort, and there are multiple vested parties. The initiative is far bigger than you think."

Relief washed over her face, and he could sense as much through his gifts, but that hadn't been the reveal. As he thought through how he could explain that the myths she studied weren't fake, she suddenly shrieked and flailed beside him.

"Shark!"

Her fear sent his own panic response into motion. Grabbing her waist, he hauled her up and out of the water and into his arms. As he scoured the darkening waters, ready to teleport damn the consequences, he saw that it had been Butterflyfish instead of a predator.

"Just a fish, professor," he chuckled. "You're safe, I promise."

Her arms were linked tightly around his neck, and she held her feet up and out of the water. "I think I've had my fill of ocean now."

Expelling the tension that'd followed their sudden fright, Nero secured her against his chest and began wading toward the beach. "Let's work on swimming tomorrow in the morning light, professor."

A part of him was discouraged. After hyping himself up to reveal the nature of what he was, and how she would factor into the equation, it no longer seemed the right time. The fright in the water had leached the last tendrils of energy from her. Exhaustion came off her in waves.

Even when they made it on the beach, Nero didn't put her down. He reached down for her shoes, then continued to hold her in a bridal carry all the way back up the boardwalk and over the threshold into his home. It was another gesture that felt symbolic and right to do with his mate—even if she didn't yet know what she was to him.

"Chivalry isn't dead," came Eden's small voice, her head resting on his shoulder. "My hero."

He might've saved her this time, but it was Eden who was making his life worth living.