Sarah
I can’t remember the last time I felt full.
I look down at the plate in front of me, which Cosette is piling with food for a third time. A piece of lusciously dark chocolate cake stares up at me while she arranges a scoop of vanilla ice cream next to it.
Everything is homemade.
Everything is delicious and filling.
I take a bite and close my eyes, fighting the urge to moan.
Cosette clucks in approval, and as I finish off the cake and ice cream, I wonder what she’s going to bring me next. I couldn’t possibly eat another bite, but after weeks of the occasional bowl of oatmeal and scrambled eggs, I’ll keep eating her food if she wants me to.
But she brings me a cup of tea spiked with warm milk and so much sugar it makes my teeth tingle as I take a sip. She sits across from me at the snug kitchen table, stirring her own cup as her dark eyes look over me critica
SydneyThe sun hasn’t risen yet when a peel of anguished cries thunders down the hallway. Brie’s image flashes in my mind–Brie being held to that altar while Gabriel taunts me, taunts her–and I’m out of bed in a second.My heart hammers against my ribs to the point I find it hard to fill my lungs with air. The entire room spins, and I can barely get my bearings.But then I remember where I am. The deep navy wallpaper and dark wood crown molding comes into view as gray, early morning sunlight ghosts through the silken curtains.I slowly sit on the edge of my bed and lower my face into my hands.It was just a dream. Another nightmare. Everything is fine. Brie is safe with her parents in Veiled Valley. Everyone is safe and secure.Another faint cry sounds from down the hallway, and I’m up again, sprinting through the near silent second floor toward the source of the sound
SarahIn the end, it isn’t the Alpha of Shadowcrest darkening my doorway with breakfast.Cosette comes into the sitting room, beaming, her arms full of clothes in colorful fabrics. Within a few minutes, I’m dressed in a perfectly tailored pair of comfortable khaki trousers and a shirt made of light pink cotton, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by an endless amount of food once again.Cosette rambles about the clothing she ordered yesterday that some poor seamstress in Shadowcrest likely worked on all night to have ready so soon. When she offers me coffee, I shake my head, and she’s delighted when I ask for a cup of tea like she made for me last night.Dalia sits in a sunny, frost covered window with my son in her arms, letting him curl his tiny fingers around her impossibly small pinky.I remind myself how young Dalia is despite her expertise in newborns and allow myself
SydneyThe inside of the cottage smells strongly of paint. I watch Sarah move through the first two rooms anyway, keeping out of her way and staying in the snug hallway right off the front door where a small kitchen sits on one side and the living room on the other. Sarah moves lightly from room to room, opening doors and closing them again. Her face is unreadable, blank, and those eyes are a stunning pale lavender, which is my only hint that she's happy. I watch her closely, unable to stop myself from noticing the way her fingertips graze over the worn, faded wallpaper in the bathroom at the very end of the hall, like she’s marking each swipe of color and texture with her touch. I might have overstepped. Her expression cracks, her eyes going dark and watery, and she looks over her shoulder at me. “Are you sure about this?” She tucks her hands in the pockets of her jacket, my jacket, which brushes her ankles and hangs off her slim shoulders. “I am.”“Why?”That word holds so much
SarahThe atrium is on the smaller side, built onto the far back side of Sydney’s manor. Snow glides off the domed glass ceiling, falling in giant piles along the exterior glass walls.Beyond the glass, the world is cast in silver as the clouds choke the sun and cloak Shadowcrest in darkness.Cosette was right about a storm coming. Wind rattles the walls of the atrium as I walk through the maze of plants planted directly into the ground, where a stone path gives way to patches of raw dirt and soil. Blake is fast asleep in a sling against my chest, my shirt clutched in his tiny fist.“Does Sydney take care of these plants?” I ask, running my fingers over massive leaves belonging to tropical plants that definitely wouldn’t survive, even in this humid, deliciously hot atrium, without delicate care.“Oh, Goddess no,” Cosette snorts, shaking her head. We meet up again, having take
SydneyIt’s 4:00 AM when I finally roll off my bed, wondering where the hell I am and how I lost an entire day. My body feels light as air as I walk downstairs in the dark in search of a drink of water, maybe even a cup of coffee, and find that I’m not alone.Cosette sits at the kitchen table–an informal setting with four chairs–and looks up at me as I shield my eyes from the sudden onslaught of light.“You survived,” she smirks, straightening up and shifting her weight to face me.“You should have woken me up yesterday afternoon,” I grumble, leaning against the kitchen island. I run my hand over my face, pinching the bridge of my nose as my body slowly comes back to reality.“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, clicking her tongue. “There’s a bag of potato chips and some fresh coffee waiting for you.”“Salt and caff
SarahI feel alive again for the first time in… well, I don’t know how long. My fingers are stained with juices from the stems and petals of the hundreds, if not thousands, of blooms I’ve been working with all morning, and the air is heavily scented; reminiscent of a fine, hot, summer day. I’m nearly done with the centerpieces. I doubt I’ll be allowed to actually go to the event to set up, so I’ve been arranging them in large glass vases myself while Cosette takes stock of every finished piece so far. Blake lays in the middle of the madness on a blanket, squirming, and lifting his little fists in the air. We’ve been taking turns all day with him, and it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t do much but eat, sleep, and need his diaper changed right now. I’ve never been this busy before, but the deadline is tomorrow morning. I can’t stop for a break even if I wanted to.Tomorrow night, the queen of freaking Crescent Falls will be holding her fancy party surrounded by my art. My stomach
SarahI wake up in my bed to bright, unforgiving winter sunlight shooting directly into my retinas. I wince, covering my eyes with my forearm.I have very vague memories of getting back to my bedroom in Sydney’s house. I remember being lifted and carried but thought maybe I was dreaming. I’m sure I dreamt it, actually, because it was the man of the house himself who lovingly carried me to bed after I’d fallen asleep face down in the center of the atrium, surrounded by potting soil and discarded flower stems.I can still smell him, though. That rich, forest scent laced with musk and sandalwood.It wasn’t a dream.I blink rapidly to adjust my eyes to the blinding sunlight and squint at the clock on the bedside table.My scream echoes through the room as I leap out of bed and fall onto the ground, my ankle caught in the bedsheet.I’m still in my clothes from
SarahSydney holds open the garage door for me, silently, and I step inside. He turns on a light switch. Light spills over the large space. Stupid, menial things I shouldn’t be paying attention to come into focus.I’m counting each breath I take and each movement he makes in the short amount of time we’ve been together tonight. I make note of the way his freshly polished, fancy shoes sound on the concrete floor, the way his watch catches the fluorescent light overhead as he reaches for a large garment bag laying over the washer and dryer, and how his eyes light up again as he glances at me before opening it.That roaring in my ears has to be my heartbeat; otherwise, Sydney has some serious issues with the furnace on the far side of the room.He turns toward me, discarding the garment bag back onto the washing machine, and holds open the most luxurious fur coat I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
BrieI open my eyes as I’m falling through thin air. I don’t even have time to scream before my body drops into water. Deep, rough water that drags me under the second I suck in a salty breath. I flail against the waves, trying to find the surface, but the undercurrent drags me down again, pulling me by my dress and tossing me upside down. My head hits something hard, and I screech, but the sound is empty. I suck in water, choking, and realize quite suddenly that I’m drowning. I go as still as possible, using the last of my energy to start moving with the current instead of against it, which turns out to be the best idea I’ve ever had, especially under duress. I open my eyes underwater, staring down at the shallows. It’s sunny. Daytime. And below, seaweed waves between large, gray rocks. Pockets of sunshine dance through the water, illuminating seashells in shades I’ve never seen before. Another wave crashes over the top of me, sending me rolling into even shallower water, and fina
MaeveCole and Misty have a beautiful suburban home in Shadowcrest. It’s always the same–always smells like freshly baked cookies and the flowers she keeps in vases all over the house. Tonight, as my toes brush the ground, and my powers funnel back into my body, it smells like… popcorn. “You pig! You’re not going to eat all of that.” Josie’s voice, so similar to her mother’s, drifts down the hallway. I landed in the foyer, which is dark, soft moonlight drifting in through the windows and casting the stairs and framed photos of the family in silver shadows. “If you wanted more, you should have added it to the order,” Adrian argues then yelps after a smacking sound reverberates toward me in the gloom. “Give me one of your tacos–”“Or what?”“I’ll tell Mom.”“She’s in Eastonia, dumbass. Hey!” A scuffle ensures. I have two seconds to jump into the shadow of Misty’s study just off the foyer when Cole walks down the stairs, still wearing his hospital scrubs. The sound of a shower running
LoganRyatt and Evander walk out of sight across the bridge connecting the barracks to the main streets of the city. I look out of my old bedroom window at the sunny glare casting shadows over the valley. The shadows move as the clouds dart across the sky toward the castle, toward my wife, who I’d much rather be with right now than here. I… I don’t have anything to pack. Anything that meant anything to me–my laptop, my fucking glasses–were lost in the shipwreck. I have the clothes on my back, and even those were borrowed from who-knows-where, left on the dresser in Brie’s bedroom by the ghost that haunts her house. She’s all I have, and it’s not like I can pack her in my duffle bag and take her with me. I crank open the window to let in some fresh air to cut through the overwhelmingly male smell of the barracks. I turn to my empty duffle bag with a sigh, bracing my hands on either side of it on the bed, and hang my head, but a whoosh of air rushes out behind me, and I turn in time
BrieThe moment my bedroom door closes behind us, Logan’s mouth is on mine. The lock slides into place with a soft click, and an even softer groan leaves his mouth when I reach up to run my fingers through his damp curls. He smells like rain and leather. Like the promise of warmth and comfort through another stormy night. And now this man–this loud, obnoxious, opinionated man… he’s mine. He presses a kiss to the ring he bought today on a whim. It’s a simple band of gold–that’s it. “I'll give you a better one when I return,” he promises, kissing the palm of my hand before his lips find mine again. “A ring with a diamond the old gods can see from the heavens.”“I don’t care about that.” I giggle as his hands glide down my sides, pulling me close. Outside, thunder booms, the room lighting in ribbons of blue as lightning splits the clouds, but in here, it’s warm. It’s private. It’s just us. He removes my cloak. It falls to the ground in a heap at my feet. He’s careful with the dress,
MaeveBrie is… radiant. She glows in her simple white dress of lace and satin, her hair falling loose over her back and shoulders as Logan slowly, tenderly, lowers the hood of her dark blue cloak. The temple is quiet and dim, moonlight flooding the altar. Logan knits his fingers in Brie’s and brings her knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss against them. They’re bathed in silver, the windows behind them dancing in starlight. It’s beautiful, really. It’s what I envisioned for her, one day, what I thought would be… years from now. I watch my sister–the person I love the most in all of the world–intertwine her soul with someone else, forcing myself to unravel the ribbons binding my heart to hers. She doesn’t belong to me anymore. Logan looks at her as they kneel before the priestess in her silver robes. They lean into each other like being inches away is too far apart. And the look on his face as he brushes his lips over her temple… he loves her. He’s devoted–body, and soul. My heart
Brie“Tonight?”“Yes, tonight.”“How?” I laugh, taking a step away from him. “We-we can’t.”“We can,” he says breathlessly, shaking his head. “The temple stays open all night. We’d just need to find a priestess.”“We’d need a witness,” I whisper as the cogs in my mind start turning. “I’d need a dress–”“I’d marry you like this,” he says, taking my hands. “But please, for the love of the Goddess, marry me before I go.”I blink up at Logan, my heart swelling and squeezing simultaneously. There’s still a whisper in my mind that warns me that he could change his mind, that he can’t really want me, but I… banish it, giving myself to him fully. “Are you sure?” I ask, scanning his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you to be my wife, Brie.”“I’m already your mate.”“It’s not enough.” He brushes my hair out of my face and kisses me, but a rush of air alerts us to a visitor making their way up the stairs to the tower. I pull away as a soft knock sounds on the door. Neither
BrieLogan steps into my dad’s office. All eyes turn to him as he scans the men–Sydney, Grandpa Ryatt, my father, a few others that serve both my father and grandfather as generals, captains, and commanders. Logan’s eyes are like polished, imperfect emeralds as he eyes my grandpa wearily, like he’s not entirely sure he understands what Ryatt just said to everyone in the room. “Brie, you don’t need to be here for this,” Aviva whispers behind me, knitting her fingers in mine. But Logan growls, “She stays.”A silent, heavy, creeping hint of tension scatters around the room. The entire castle would explode if someone lit a match right now, I’m sure. My spine tingles as Logan turns to Ryatt and says, calmly despite the bite in his voice, “There’s nothing in Emberfyll.”“Quite the contrary,” my grandfather replies immediately, rounding my father’s desk, his shadow powers simmering and coiling around his fingers, “Debris has been washing up on the southern shore of Tarsian for decades now.
LoganBrie looks exhausted, but otherwise… happy, thank the Goddess, as she sits between her mother and Misty, listening to their conversation and picking at a sandwich. I lean my elbows on the table across the room where I’m sitting in silence, alone, still waiting for my mind to catch up with my body after Maeve jumped with us from the middle of the ocean to Veiled Valley. A shadow moves into view, crossing through the doorway before a shadow breaches the informal living area. Ryan looks around before turning the corner, beelining for me, waving away several rushed questions coming from the group of women on the couches nearby. He braces his hands on the table beside me, leaning down to whisper into my ear, “I need to speak to you in private before Ryatt returns. Can you come with me?”I glance at Brie, who’s watching us with her brows furrowed in worry. I suck my teeth before nodding, and Ryan moves back a step so I can stand. Brie and I have been using the mind-link as much as
BrieI pull the stool out from under my vanity, sinking down and facing Blake. I’m older than him by a few months. We’ve always been close, even when we were younger, and he tended to want to play rowdy boy games with Aris. He always sat quietly and played tea-party with me, though, without fail. He’s also the pariah of the family and knows it. His powers rival Ryatt’s, which is a terrifying thought. In fact, I often question who’s more powerful–him or Maeve? But that’s not a fair question at the moment, given that Maeve’s powers aren’t even fully developed yet. Blake, however… he exudes energy that makes my skin tingle as he sits in my desk chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “You found us, didn’t you?” He nods, a flash of guilt darkening his irises. “I admit I didn’t even look until Maeve cornered me. She felt you, she said. Sensed your arrival back in our waters.”I wonder how much Logan told the family. Probably everything, I’m sure. That man can talk, and I love that abou