3
The first fingers of dawn were still stretching across the horizon when I roused Nicholas from our cocoon of sheets and blankets. “Wake up, sleepy head. It’s time for breakfast,” I chirped, my mood effervescent after the events of the previous evening. Despite the complications in our lives, I was ready to face the future with him—that was, after we enjoyed our first holiday breakfast with the family.
Nicholas groaned, the stubble on his jaw catching the dim light as he buried his face deeper into the pillow. “Mmm, can’t we skip it?” he mumbled, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed his playful protest.
With a tug of my hand and the promise of hot coffee, I coaxed him from the warmth of our bed. “You’ll thank me when you taste the cinnamon rolls,” I assured him. Once he left the bed, he grumbled almost continuously as he dressed, and I let him have his moment. He would see, soon enough, that there were things to complain about, but the meals served at the mansion were not one of them, and I was very much looking forward to filling my growling belly.
“You’re decent enough, come on,” I insisted. As the cool morning light filtered through the grand windows of the room, I couldn”t help but steal glances at Nicholas. The jeans he chose fit him like a second skin, hugging the contours of his legs. They were a nice, dark wash—simple but markedly effective in enhancing his frame. His sweater, a soft, charcoal grey, clung to his shoulders, the fabric highlighting the broad expanse of his chest and the lean lines of his physique. The casual elegance of his outfit, paired with the way his hair, just a bit tousled from our morning together, fell softly around his face, made my thoughts wander into other delicious places.
There was something about Nicholas in that moment—dressed not as a warrior from another time but as the man I loved in the here and now—that struck a chord deep within me.
His eyes, when they met mine, sparkled with amusement, aware of my lingering gaze yet indulging my silent admiration. In those jeans and that sweater, Nicholas didn”t just look attractive; he looked like home, like every dream I”d dared to dream made manifest. It was in simple moments like these that I found myself falling even harder for him, if such a thing were possible.
“C’mon,” I insisted. I saw him glance back at the bed and then return his eyes to mine, the question written clearly on his face. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I laughed, prying away from him before he could drag me back.
“Ah, you’re no fun,” he said, straightening his sweater.
“I’m starving, and you’re trying to distract me,” I shot back, opening the door. I took his hand, and he reluctantly gave in.
As we approached the formal dining room, the scents of the holiday filled my senses. The rich aroma of roasted coffee beans mingled with the sweet, spicy allure of cinnamon and the savory scent of sausage gravy and buttered biscuits, drawing us in. It was the smell of home, of holidays, of traditions that we were both still learning to navigate together.
The soft hum of conversation grew louder as we neared. Connor and Bash were locked in animated debate, their voices a familiar backdrop to the clink of fine china and the soft rustling of the people at the table.
Julius, ever the thinker, was engrossed in an electronic tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration. Ronan, with all the authority of an older brother, plucked the device from his hands. “No work today, Julius. Leonard’s orders,” he said, a playful sternness in his voice.
The laughter that followed warmed me more than any fire could. As Nicholas and I stepped into the dining room, every head turned, and a chorus of greetings met us. Connor’s eyes twinkled as he offered a robust “Good morning!” while Bash raised his cup in a silent salute with a silly grin splashed across his face.
Nicholas, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, couldn’t suppress a smile. I knew the comfort of family was still a novel concept to him, but the ease with which he returned their salutations made my heart rest a bit easier.
We took our places at the table, its length adorned with glistening silverware and festive greenery. As we settled in, the room abuzz with the comfortable chatter of a family holiday, I reached for Nicholas’s hand under the table, squeezing it gently.
Looking around at the faces I loved, I felt the weight of the past, the thrill of the present, and the promise of the future all converge. Nicholas was here with me, and we were building something beautiful, something as enduring as the immortal traditions that surrounded us.
Contentment settled over me like a soft blanket, and as Nicholas returned my squeeze, his eyes meeting mine with that depth of emotion I had come to cherish, I knew. We were exactly where we were meant to be.
“I missed my stocking this morning,” I teased my father. He issued me a stern stare.
“Don’t you think you’re a little old for that?” he replied. I shrugged.
“Nope,” I quipped, grinning. I looked up at Leonard, who was standing at my side, waiting to pour my coffee. I held up my cup gladly, and Leonard smiled. I noticed he completely ignored Nicholas, filling his cup without an acknowledgement, and I made a mental note to talk to him about it. Leonard was as much family as any of the occupants of the estate, and if I could do something to ease the tension between him and Nicholas, I would do it.
“Well, I don’t think Santa wants to sneak into your room anymore, Soph. Lord knows he doesn’t need to interrupt you two,” Bash piped in, shoving food in his mouth.
“Bash!” I admonished him. My father smacked the young man across the back of his head lightly, earning a crooked grin, and Ronan uttered a low chuckle.
“Sounds like you need a thrashing, Bash,” Nicholas muttered, brows arched. The two men surveyed each other across the table, and Bash pointed his fork at Nicholas.
“Bring it, Mahtake. I heard you’re pretty bad ass, in the seventeenth century, that is. I could use a good round of fighting today.”
I put my hand on Nicholas’s leg, a gentle but firm pressure.
“Count me in, youngster. I’ll give you a beat down after breakfast,” Nicholas returned. I rolled my eyes skyward, their antics dampening my mood.
“Really, you two? Must you train today? It’s Christmas. No one trains on Christmas!”
Ronan’s deep voice rolled out. Julius had somehow managed to recover his tablet, which Ronan again plucked from Julius’s hands, and glared at the rest of us. “I agree. No training—or working—today. It’s unseemly.”
“Life doesn’t stop for a silly Christian holiday,” Julius sniped.
“Well, it does today,” Connor agreed. I smiled at my father, grateful for the support against the masses.
“So we’re all on vacation today?” a high-pitched voice interrupted. The lively hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery against fine china ceased.
Genevieve Falk stood at the threshold, a vision that momentarily drew all eyes toward her. With short, curly blond hair that framed her angular face in a halo, and bright green eyes that seemed almost ethereal in their intensity, the immortal woman commanded attention.
Her frame was lean and athletic, and she dressed the part, black tights hugging her frame topped with a black leather jacket. Although the others acknowledged her with due respect, I jumped out of my chair to meet her, thrilled to see her.
As I approached, her posture softened, her authoritative demeanor wavering under the genuine warmth of the welcome.
”Gen! I’m so glad to see you! What are you doing here?” I said, my voice carrying across the room. Genevieve”s response was a smile, one that reached her eyes and transformed her face from something almost untouchably immortal to warmly human. I threw my arms around her, drawing her into a hug.
”I missed you too,” Genevieve replied, her voice clear and melodic as she hugged me in return. “Didn’t your father tell you I was coming? Truly, Connor, I expect better from you.”
Father stood up, depositing his napkin onto the table beside his plate. “I didn’t know when you’d be here, so I decided to let it be a surprise,” he answered. “Join us, there’s plenty to go around—”
“Sirs, a word? It’s the boy,” Leonard interrupted. His voice betrayed the urgency, and it brought all of them instantly to attention. Nicholas stood up, his gaze locked on Leonard. The other men slowly rose, joining Nicholas and Connor. I remained with Genevieve, aware that I was gripping her tightly and suddenly locked in place.
“What is it?” Nicholas asked, before my father could say a word.
This time, Leonard turned to face Nicholas. The servant spoke directly to him, his gaze unflinching.
“He is awake,” Leonard replied.
Standing in the sterile, white corridors of the underground complex, I could feel the tension coursing through my veins like ice water. It was a relief, an immense one, to know that Alec was finally awake, but with that relief came a torrent of new fears and worries. Nicholas, with all his strength and quiet resolve, had been a pillar through this ordeal, but even pillars could crumble under too much weight.
Beside me, Genevieve remained, watching the scene unfold before us. Her presence was reassuring. But as we watched Julius, with his practiced eye, check over the monitors displaying Alec”s vital signs, I could sense a flicker of unease in him, and I did not know how to explain to my friend what was going on.
When Julius finally stepped away, leaving Nicholas alone with Alec, my heart caught in my throat. I could only imagine the emotions swirling within Nicholas as he stood by his brother”s side, the brother he had fought so desperately to save. It was a moment of reunion, yes, but also one of truth, where the ramifications of Alec”s awakening would unfold.
Genevieve turned to me, her bright green eyes meeting mine, and in that gaze, I saw a reflection of my own worry. ”Who is the child?” she asked, her voice steady but softer than I had ever heard it. ”He’s immortal, isn’t he?”
I nodded, the fear lingering.
“His name is Alec Neilsson. He’s Nicholas’s brother. He died in 1676. We disobeyed the Keepers and we saved him. And I don’t regret a moment of it,” I replied. I expected her judgement; after all, Genevieve was a staunch proponent of the laws of our kind, an enforcer of all that the Immortal Blooded Ones held as truth. I didn’t know why my father had summoned my oldest friend, and I did not like the thought of putting her in a position she could not extract herself from. “I’m sorry, Genevieve. If you want to leave now, I understand. You don’t need to get involved in this.”
Genevieve sat on that revelation for a long moment as she stared at Alec and Nicholas through the glass.
“I’m already involved. I’m not going anywhere,” she said, shoving me gently with her shoulder. “You know me better than that.”
I smiled. “Well, I had to give you an out. That’s what friends do.”
She uttered a low snort. “And Nicholas Neilsson. He dragged you into this?”
“He didn’t drag me into anything. I love him, Gen,” I replied. She closed her eyes briefly, then turned to me, her gaze softer now.
“I can see that with every breath you take,” she said. “But he’s immortal. You know what that means. It’s not a normal life, Sophia.”
I lifted my chin. I knew her words came from her concern for me, but it stung, all the same.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I said quietly.
The unspoken truth hung in the air. But someday, it will matter – to him.
Genevieve seemed to accept that answer, choosing not to pursue it further, and I was glad. There was no way I would change her opinion on the matter, as she was an immortal who knew all too well what it meant to love a mortal. There was a part of me that ached at the thought of Nicholas watching me live and eventually die. Yet I could not dwell on the right and wrong of it in that moment, because Alec was awake, and Nicholas needed me.
“I’m going inside.”
“I’ll see you back at the house,” she replied. I watched her turn to leave, and I shifted my attention back to the medical bay.
What would Alec”s return mean for us? For Nicholas? The weight of what had been done to bring Alec back, the deals made, the secrets kept, all of it hung in the air like a silent specter. In that moment, beneath the fluorescent lights of the complex, with the quiet hum of machinery echoing in my ears, I made a silent vow to stand by Nicholas, to face whatever challenges Alec”s awakening brought us.
I walked into the room and stood by the door, waiting to ensure that my presence would not be a distraction. The moment I stepped into the medical bay, a scene of raw emotion unfolded before me. There was Nicholas, seated beside the hospital bed where Alec, now blessedly awake, sat with tears glistening in his eyes. The sight of the brothers together struck a chord deep within me. Alec was gripping Nicholas”s hand tightly, a tangible connection that spoke volumes of their bond, and of the relief and disbelief mingling on Alec”s young face.
As Nicholas caught sight of me by the doorway, a soft smile broke through the intensity of the moment. ”Sophia, come meet Alec,” he said, his voice laced with an affection that warmed me to my core.
Alec, upon noticing my presence, swiftly wiped his tears away with a clenched fist, as though embarrassed to show such vulnerability. His actions brought a tender smile to my lips; it was a natural reaction, one that any child of his age might make. In that gesture, I saw the flicker of the boy Nicholas had spoken of with so much fondness.
As I moved closer, taking careful steps to bridge the physical distance between us, I held Alec”s gaze, offering him a smile that I hoped conveyed understanding. ”It”s so good to finally meet you, Alec. I’m Sophia,” I said, my voice gentle, wanting to ease the whirlwind of emotions he must be feeling.
There was a hesitance in him, a guardedness that was to be expected. After all, I was a stranger stepping into a profoundly personal moment. Yet, as I stood there, looking at Alec, seeing the resemblance he bore to Nicholas—not just in appearance but in the depth of emotion that played across his face—I hoped that with time, he would come to trust me, just as Nicholas had.
The room was charged with a silent hope, a hope that this reunion marked the beginning of a new chapter for all of us. As Alec tentatively returned my smile, a small, hesitant upturn of his lips, I smiled back. Building trust would take time and patience, but I was ready for it.
“A pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Sophia,” Alec replied. Alec”s voice carried the distinct cadence of an accent, a melodic blend. His pronunciation was precise, each word enunciated with a clarity that was both charming and slightly archaic.
I felt Nicholas touch my hand, a questioning brush, and I immediately entwined my fingers with his in answer. Staring at his brother, a reborn immortal, I needed grounding just as much as Nicholas did.
“Are you—are you feeling well? Can I do anything for you?” I asked, stumbling over the right words to say. What did one say in such a situation? Hey kid, welcome back to life—and to the twenty-first century? Although I’d lived with immortals my entire life, I’d never known one fresh from a mortal death.
“I don’t rightly know, miss,” Alec replied, his voice soft. He looked up at Nicholas, his eyes wide, and I saw his lower lip quiver slightly. “I cannot remember much at all. No one can help me with that.”
Tears welled again, and Nicholas pulled his hand from mine so he could embrace his brother. I swallowed hard, wanting so badly to do something for both of them, but knowing that there was nothing I could do to ease their burden.
Nicholas rubbed his back, as if a father comforting his son. “It’s going to take some time,” he said. “Remember when we talked about how I visited our grandfather Torquil in the past, how it muddled my memory for a bit? It’s like that. It will come back to you, I promise. It’s the time travel, it’s just temporary.”
Alec nodded, his eyes squinted tight as he wiped his tears with the whitened knuckles of his clenched fist. He gulped back a sob and pulled away from his brother, shaking his head as if he meant to clear it.
“I believe ye, brother,” he said. “But when will we go home? Mother must be worried—and Father! Surely, he will want to punish us both this time!”
My eyes flickered to meet Nicholas’s, and my throat tightened when he quickly averted his gaze. He bowed his head somewhat, pressing his hand over Alec’s, and it was a long moment before he spoke.
“We cannot go home yet,” Nicholas said, his tone low and careful. “I told you there was an accident, that is why I had to bring you to this time with me.”
“I want to go home. I want to see mother,” Alec insisted. “It was only an accident, she will forgive us both, I know it.” The boy pulled his hand sharply away from Nicholas. His eyes glistened, the confusion etched in his face.
“Alec, it is not a matter of forgiveness. Here, don’t pull away,” Nicholas said firmly, taking both of the boy’s hands in his own. Nicholas looked his brother straight in the eye, clutching his hands as if the act might bring him strength to say the unimaginable words. “Yes, the accident is why I brought you here, and why we must remain here. But it was not just an accident. You were hurt, Alec. You were terribly hurt.”
“I’m fine now,” Alec replied. Nicholas shook his head fiercely, leaning closer to Alec.
“You died that day, Alec. I’m so sorry. You died that day. That is why I brought you here. That is why we cannot return home.”
Nicholas was rigid, awaiting a response from Alec. I could see the tension in the muscles in his neck, and the way his skin was flushed up his throat. Alec’s round eyes welled up, glistening until they spilled, yet Nicholas did not release his hands.
“No. That’s impossible. Blooded Ones do not rise from the dead—not without a newborn, and we have no new siblings. You’re lying, Nic, you’re a liar,” Alec whispered.
“You are no longer only a Blooded One, brother,” Nicholas replied. “You are immortal. You will live forever now.”
“You’re a liar! I want to go home!” Tears flowed freely down Alec’s cheeks.
“It’s the truth, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Nicholas replied, the last vestige of his composure cracking with his broken words.
The boy stared at Nicholas as if they were the only two people in the world, the connection between them an unbreakable pull. I was afraid to move or to breathe, the gravity of the revelation strumming throughout the room.
Alec swallowed hard, and I could see the change come over him then, washing over his boyish features. I did not know if I imagined it, or if it was merely the consequence of the ugly truth, yet I watched as a mask slid down over Alec. Suddenly, in the silence, he was something else. He was no longer a child, and his gaze bespoke of something older, something jaded, trapped in the body of a child.
When he spoke, a shiver ran down my spine.
“Father is going to kill you, Nic,” Alec said softly.
Nicholas nodded. “Yes, he likely will,” he agreed.
Alec pulled his hands away, and this time, I saw Nicholas loosen his grip and allow him to go.
I crossed my arms over my chest, aching to comfort them both. Alec shifted his stare from Nicholas to me.
“Is it true, Miss Sophia? What my brother says?” Alec asked, unnaturally calm now.
I moistened my dry lips and nodded, not trusting myself to say much more. “Yes, Alec, it’s true. It’s all true.”
“I remember working on the painting of Squatter’s Hill. ‘Tis the last thing I can recall,” he said softly.
Nicholas straightened up. I could see the tension in his posture, the sudden awakening of that place inside him he kept long buried.
“It will take time for your memory to return,” Nicholas said.
“When it returns, will I remember my death?” Alec blankly replied, a whimsical yet cold observation.
“Perhaps. It is not certain what will come to you. Only time will tell.”
Alec wiped his nose and glanced around the room, his gaze darting from one modern machine to the next. He surveyed his surroundings for a moment, and then his head snapped abruptly back to stare hard at Nicholas.
“Then can we leave this place? Ye said I’ll have my own room in the house, next to yours? I think that would be a fine thing, after sharing a room with ye for so long.”
Nicholas blinked, cocking his head slightly at Alec.
“Of course we can, if that’s what you want. Let’s get you up first, and we’ll go from there,” Nicholas replied.
I watched as Nicholas assisted Alec from the bed, the sheet that once shrouded the boy falling to the floor.
Although I expected some sort of incapacity from the boy’s lengthy period of immobility, bedrest did not seem to affect immortals in a negative way. Shockingly, Alec stood up firmly, letting his two feet hit the ground. He stood there for a few moments, bow-legged, his stance wide, as if he tested the shiny white tile floor beneath his feet. After a quick consideration, however, he took Nicholas’s hand, and he walked beside him out of the medical bay.
As they reached the door, Alec grabbed the front of his white cotton hospital gown, looking down at it, and then turned his head to stare at his own backside.
“I hope this isn’t what folks wear now,” he commented. “’Tis not seemly to have my arse hanging out.”
I burst out laughing, and Nicholas followed suit. Alec grinned, clearly unaware of the relief his joke warranted, and he followed along beside us without further ado.
It was an eventful journey from the medical bay to the main house. Watching Alec react with curiosity rather than fear to most of what he encountered was a surprising turn, one I did not anticipate. Nicholas kept close to his brother, never straying more than a few feet, even when Alec ran eagerly climbed into the golf cart that Nicholas assured him was nothing more than a modern-day version of a horse-drawn cart.
The elevator was a different matter, however. Alec did not seem in distress when the doors closed and the surge of upward motion propelled them to the main floor, yet when the doors slid open, Alec’s demeanor changed. The boy was last to exit, following them after a long pause. His eyes were wide, darting floor to ceiling as they walked. When they reached the foyer where the Christmas tree stood to greet them, Alec suddenly stopped, his legs locked.
“This is where you—where you live?” Alec asked. His gaze shifted upward to the ceiling, where the round crystal chandelier hung from the center of an ornately carved plaster medallion. It twinkled with the reflection of light from the tall windows and lighted tree, casting a rainbow of glimmering color to dapple the floor.
Nicholas nodded. “Yes, it’s where I’ve been staying,” he replied. “There’s others who live here, too. You’ll meet them all today, if you’re up to it.”
Nicholas did not meet my gaze after his statement, and I turned away, unwilling to let on that his choice of words unsettled me. Where I’ve been staying. It did not lend an assurance of permanence, in fact, it seemed to describe a temporary situation, and I didn’t know how to respond to it. The two of them continued their conversation, seeming oblivious to my mood.
“Why don’t I make sure Alec’s room is ready, and I’ll catch up with you two in a bit?” I said. Nicholas and Alec, deep in discussion over the grandeur of the mansion, barely paused.
“That sounds good. Thanks for taking care of that,” Nicholas replied. He gave my hand a quick squeeze before he returned his attention to Alec, and I left the two brothers to their own devices.
Later that evening we spent time in the parlor, where my father engaged Alec in a game of checkers, which the boy quickly became fascinated with. Nicholas decided to forgo the nightly dinner with the entire family, choosing instead to keep things more low-key to allow Alec to adjust, and we had a small private meal with just the four of us. I curled up on the couch and tried to focus on reading a book, but the truth was that I was anything but relaxed, and trying to focus on words on a page was not doing anything to help the matter.
In the warm, softly lit parlor of the estate, an ordinary scene unfolded, one that seemed almost out of place amidst the extraordinary circumstances of the day. Father and Alec were hunched over a small table between them, the board a battleground for a silent war waged with black and red pieces. Father, ever the strategist, wore a look of concentration that was mirrored on Alec”s face, though his was tinged with a touch of confusion and frustration. It was a simple pleasure, this game, yet it held within it layers of meaning, a symbol of normalcy they all desperately needed.
Nicholas stood by Alec’s side, leaning in now and then to whisper advice or encouragement. Every so often, Alec would glance up at him, seeking reassurance or simply the comfort of his proximity.
My eyes lingered on Nicholas, tracing the lines of his profile with a tenderness before flitting back to the page, unseeing.
The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the game—the soft clack of pieces being moved, the occasional murmur of conversation, and the undercurrent of laughter that bubbled up when Alec made a particularly good move, or when father feigned dismay at being outmaneuvered.
Despite my attempts to focus on my reading, I found myself drawn into the game, my attention captivated by the interplay between the players. The sight of Alec engaged and animated, even in frustration, made me hope that perhaps, despite what led us all to this moment, the future could be filled with peace. In that parlor, under the soft glow of the lamps, they were simply four souls connected by bonds deeper than time, finding solace in the presence of one another, in the simplicity of a game of checkers.
As the checkers game carried on, a comfortable warmth settled over the parlor, a stark contrast to the whirlwind that had filled my day. Watching Nicholas, Alec, and Connor so engrossed in their game, a semblance of normalcy amidst our anything-but-normal lives, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It was the kind of tiredness that seeped into your bones, not just from physical exertion but from the emotional weight so profound it sometimes felt like it would swallow me whole.
I closed my book, realizing I hadn”t actually read a single word in the last half-hour, my attention completely consumed by the three men who meant the world to me. Pushing myself off the couch, I felt the fabric of the cushions release me reluctantly, as if they too were loath to let go of this peaceful moment.
Crossing the room, I paused behind Nicholas, admiring the way the lamp light played across his shoulders, casting him in a soft glow. Leaning down, I pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. ”Goodnight,” I whispered, feeling his hand reach up to briefly touch mine in acknowledgment.
Turning to Alec and Connor, I offered them each a warm smile. ”Night, you guys. Sleep well,” I said.
Retreating to our bedroom, the coolness of the hallway a stark contrast to the warmth of the parlor, I felt the mantle of weariness drape even heavier over my shoulders. Inside our room, the familiar surroundings offered a comfort that I leaned into, shedding my clothes in favor of a soft nightgown.
As I slipped under the covers of our bed, the fabric cool and welcoming, I couldn”t help but let out a long, slow breath. Lying there in the quiet darkness, waiting for Nicholas to join me, I allowed my mind to drift, the reality of the day fading as I felt the tendrils of slumber draw me in.
In the stillness of our bedroom, with the soft whisper of the night outside our window, I closed my eyes, the image of Nicholas’s smile the last thing I saw in my mind”s eye before sleep claimed me. In that moment, between wakefulness and dreams, I prayed we could all finally start living again.
It was not long before I felt the rustle of bedcovers and the weight of the mattress dip beside me as Nicholas slid into bed. The chill of the night air seemed to follow him, only to be vanquished by the warmth that radiated from his skin, a warmth that I found myself drawn to, like a moth to flame. Though sleep had begun to claim me, his warm lips upon my neck stirred me from the brink, awakening a primal need that had lain dormant in the hours we had spent apart.
His hand found mine in the darkness, his fingers intertwining with mine in a grip that urged me closer to him. ”I need you,” he whispered, his voice a soft plea. The words, simple yet clear, acted as a key, unlocking the floodgates of emotion that I had been holding in check.
In the moonlit bedroom, where shadows danced across the walls and the soft glow of the moon cast everything in a silvery light, we moved together. The touch of his skin against mine sent ripples of heat coursing through my body. His hands, so familiar now, traced paths over my skin that left trails of fire in their wake.
“I love you,” he murmured, dipping his head to my body. His lips retraced the path, this time from her neck to my belly, and I reclined flatly and stretched my hand above my head at the delicious torture. He took advantage of the gesture, pressing his hand to cover mine, rising eventually through a torturous path of teasing kisses until he settled his body snugly over mine. I was instantly aware, awake, and ready.
“Please hurry,” I whispered, urgent.
He moved, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He gathered my nightgown up around my waist with one hand as he held my hand with the other, his fervent kisses leaving a blazing trail on my skin. There was an urgency to his actions as he pulled me close, a frantic yearning that was echoed in my own pulse. His eagerness, urging me on, stirred a whirlwind of sensations I knew I would only feel with him, until the end of our days.
After, as I slumped against him, my head resting against his chest, I closed my eyes, listening to the steady thud of his heart beneath my ear. In the stillness that followed, the quiet of the night felt like a comfort, the moon standing sentinel over our union.
Nicholas broke the silence, his voice a careful intrusion into the tranquil bubble we had created.
”I”m relieved Alec is awake,” he began, his words measured, as if he were carefully picking his way through a minefield. ”But this world... it”s different from the one he knew. I worry if he”ll ever truly adjust, if he can make a life in this time.”
His concern hung in the air, a palpable thing, and I found myself holding my breath, afraid of where this conversation might lead. The moonlight streaming through the window cast his face in a soft glow, highlighting the furrow of his brow, the slight downturn of his lips.
”Nicholas,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, ”do you ever feel the same? That you”ll never truly be home here, in this time?”
The question felt like a betrayal, even as it slipped from my lips, but the fear had been gnawing at me, a silent specter at the edge of our happiness. I watched him closely, searching his face for signs of the truth I was afraid to hear.
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze shifting to the window, where the night sky stretched beyond the glass. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but I sensed the effort it took him to maintain that calm.
”It’s different for me,” he said, turning back to face me, his hand finding mine beneath the covers. ”Yes, the past holds my history, my family... but you, our life here, this is my present. And my future.”
The words should have comforted me, and on some level, they did. Yet, the fear remained, a whisper of doubt that refused to be silenced. Was he telling me the truth, or was he simply trying to protect me from pain?
As he spoke of Alec”s challenges and his own determination to support his brother through it, I listened. But beneath the surface, the fear lingered, a shadow I couldn”t quite shake.
I wanted to believe him, but the seeds of doubt had been planted. How could I not feel selfish, knowing I was keeping him from the world he knew, from the family he had left behind? And how could I not question my own refusal to join him in immortality, to ensure that our time together would not be cut short by my own early demise?
The conversation drifted to other topics, but my mind remained caught in the web. Nicholas, ever attentive, must have sensed my withdrawal, for he pulled me closer, his embrace tightening, and we both let the topic fade.
The night deepened around us, the moon”s glow illuminating our nest. And as I drifted toward sleep, curled against Nicholas”s warmth, I couldn”t help but wonder about the future, about the path we would walk together, and whether the love we shared would be enough.