Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
LAUREN
I was sad to wake up alone this morning, but I decided that was selfish considering where we are and everything happening.
I mean, there are issues of global significance going on. Literal apocalypse-level threats. I do still realize that even though I’m so wrapped up in my own personal relationship drama.
It’s just so easy to get lost in the sauce every time Remus or Romulus walks through the door, I feel like I can’t breathe. And I’m not usually a girl who swoons—seriously, I’m not. I’ve always prided myself on being practical and grounded.
But I’ve never been around men who seem so intent on me. My feelings. My well-being. My… pleasure. My cheeks flush.
I’ve never had anyone in a relationship actually pay me real attention.
I mean, Michael only bothered getting me compliant enough to use my body.
Oh, and he really liked it when I cooked for him.
That was important too, apparently. But yeah…
that was about the total of that relationship, if it even deserved the word.
So to have this kind of attention from not just one man but two—
I don’t know if it’s fair to ask what I want of Remus. But I just see so many possibilities of all of us living together happily. It feels possible. Within reach, even.
When I peeked my head out of my room earlier, Kharon was stationed in the hallway—protective, vigilant. He assured me that Romulus was in a meeting and would be back soon. When I asked after Ksenia and the baby, his whole face softened.
“They’re well. They named her Luna,” he said.
And now I’m sitting here on the edge of the massive black bed, unsure if I’m hoping it will be Romulus or Remus who walks through that door.
Which feels majorly messed up and confusing.
From everything everyone says about Remus, he can be stubborn. Volatile. Unpredictable. But the man I know seems completely reasonable underneath all that chaos. I’m sure if I can just talk it through with him, make him understand—
I bite my bottom lip and play absently with the powdered sugar banana crepe on my plate, leftover from breakfast. For a place where they theoretically don’t eat food, the breakfast was really spectacular. Crepes so light they practically floated. Fresh fruit.
Do they bring in human servants to cook? Do they... uh... feed on those same servants?
How does the whole vampire thing actually work in reality?
I shake my head, barely able to believe I’m even contemplating the practicalities of a day in the life of a vampire.
Apparently they don’t sleep all day or burn in sunlight. They welcomed us out in the open yesterday afternoon. What else has common lore gotten completely wrong?
I startle and almost upend the plate on my lap when the door suddenly opens.
It’s Remus’s wide, mischievous grin that greets me as he steps inside, his wings brushing against the doorframe as he enters.
I’m flooded with relief—so intense it’s almost physical. I wasn’t even sure who I was hoping for until right this moment.
I set the plate aside on the nightstand, jump off the bed, and run up to him, flinging my arms around his neck.
“Baby!” The word bursts out of me, excited and genuine. “It’s so good to see you! How did the meetings go?”
His strong arms come around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I feel so small in his embrace, so protected. In spite of everything—the vampires, the threats, the uncertainty—I can’t help giggling.
God, this man makes me giddy like a teenager with her first crush.
“You glad it’s me?” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
I pull back just enough to smack him lightly on the shoulder. “Of course I am.” I roll my eyes for emphasis.
His grin gets wider—that wild, infectious grin I’ve come to love.
“How did everything go?” I ask again, searching his face. “Is it all stable out there? The world’s not coming to an end or anything?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
I frown a little at that. The casual dismissal feels wrong somehow. But then he pulls me back into his arms and kisses my neck sensuously, and I melt against him like butter in a hot pan.
I guess if they needed him on some sort of urgent mission, he wouldn’t be in here kissing my neck. Right?
I sigh, my whole body liquifying against his solid warmth.
God, how does he do this to me? Turn my brain to mush with just his touch?
At the same time, excitement starts zinging through my body as an idea forms.
“Honey, what if we try to do it again?” I ask, pulling back to look at him. My voice comes out breathless with enthusiasm.
My hand roves down his body, landing on the front of his pants. He’s already hard, and my excitement amps up even higher.
“This is a welcome home I can get used to,” he growls, hands framing my face as he kisses me possessively.
In his arms, with him kissing me like I’m oxygen and he’s drowning, it’s easy to believe anything is possible. Everything is possible.
I go up on my tiptoes and kiss him back just as vigorously. I love getting lost in his scent—smoke and spice and something uniquely him. His taste. The feel of his strong body flush against mine.
“It was so amazing,” I break away from his lips just long enough to say, words tumbling out. “Last night. I was thinking that maybe if we make love like that again, both of you will wake up, and maybe this time you could actually talk to each other.”
The words rush out so fast that at first I don’t notice Remus yank back from me.
“Like sexual healing!” I finish excitedly, searching his eyes for understanding.
But Remus completely pulls away at that, his arms dropping from my face. The light in his eyes dims like someone threw a switch.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” he says flatly. Voice cold.
My heart sinks. Dammit, I’ve probably gone about this all wrong. I’ve been too enthusiastic, and not careful enough with his feelings.
But I’m not ready to give up yet.
“Oh, come on,” I say, putting a hand on his arm, trying to reconnect. “The whole problem with the two of you is communication. It’s the oldest one in the book—”
“No,” he cuts me off.
“—But now that we’ve found a way to spark a connection between you with me as a conduit—”
“You are not a conduit!” Remus says harshly, voice sharp enough to cut.
But I shake my head, still trying. “Of course I am. I really think this was meant to happen. You went looking for a consort, not realizing the whole time what you really needed was a way to finally connect with your brother. A consort for both of you—”
“I don’t want to fuck you so I can connect to my fucking brother,” Remus says loudly, stalking away from me across the room.
I finally stop, my enthusiasm deflating as I catch up to what I’ve been missing this whole time. I was so excited about my revelation that I hadn’t seen how tense he was from the moment he walked in. How wound up.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly, carefully. “Is there something going on you’re not telling me about?”
His gaze slides to the side. Avoiding. Then he steps forward again, eyes coming back to me even though his whole body stays rigid with tension.
“I’ve been looking forward to getting home to you,” he says, and there’s real emotion in his voice. Pain. “And for once in my life, I don’t want to think about my goddamned brother. Can’t it just be you and me here? Like it was at the beginning?”
He kisses me, and for a moment I want to get lost in him and say yes, of course. Forget everything else. Of course it can be just us again.
But even as my hands lift to twine around the back of his neck, they bump into Romulus’s sleeping face, and reality hits me.
I pull away from his lips. “You’re not wearing your glamour.”
And he hasn’t been since he came in. I didn’t register it at first because I’m so used to his wings and tail now. But his wings brushed the doorframe as he entered. And his tail is visible, moving restlessly behind him.
He closes his eyes, and his wings shimmer, then disappear along with his tail. The glamour settles over him like a mask.
But what was he doing that he hadn’t had it on before he came in? Isn’t a glamour something you have to concentrate on maintaining? Wasn’t letting it slip really dangerous here in a vampire compound?
And why do I get the distinct feeling he’s trying to distract me from something he doesn’t want to tell me?
When he tries to kiss me again, I pull back this time, searching his eyes. Really looking.
He just closes them, moving in for another kiss like I haven’t spoken.
“Remus,” I plead, shoving lightly against his chest. “I just want to talk. Please.”
He breathes out hard—not frustrated exactly, but when he turns away from me, I get a closed-off feeling. Like walls slamming down between us when usually there are open lines of communication.
“We don’t have to talk about Romulus,” I say, trying a different approach. But I can’t help adding, “Even though we have to sometime.”
I hold up my hands when his dark eyes flash a warning my way.
“It doesn’t have to be now, but your brother is a reality that’s not going away any time soon. Maybe right now, while everything else is going on, isn’t the time. But you’re not the only one in this relationship. He’s a victim here too—”
“Is that what he’s telling you?” Remus lights up, obviously furious. “And who’s the other victim—you?”
“No,” I say, impatient with his deliberate misunderstanding. “He’d never say that. He’s incredibly long-suffering about the whole thing, but he deserves a life and happiness too, you know. We all do.”
“And you’d be happier with him, is that it?”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “I never said that! If you would just listen to the actual words coming out of my mouth instead of hearing what you’re afraid I’m saying—”
“Just say it with your full chest,” he interrupts, voice harsh. “You prefer him to me, and you’re both trying to edge me out.”
“What?” All the breath leaves my chest like I’ve been punched. “That’s not—”
I try to approach him, but he physically bars me with his hands up.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice dangerous. “It’s been the same story my whole life. From the day I was born.”
I see all the hurt in his eyes at his words—raw, bleeding pain. Even though he’s pulling away from me at the same time. Not so much physically, but I can feel walls springing up between us. Mountains of them. Barriers I don’t know how to climb.
I want to tell him no, that I understand his hurt. Maybe I don’t know exactly how bad it was with his archaic father and the abuse his brothers endured or what that kind of prolonged trauma was like for thousands of years.
But I do know what it’s like to want the love of a parent and feel constant rejection instead. I know what it’s like to never be good enough, to always be too much or not enough.
If he would just let me in instead of pushing me away and assuming the worst about my intentions—
“Is it so impossible to believe that I could love both of you?” I ask, and I can hear my voice breaking.
My heart breaking. “Is there no world where you could believe that I’m the kind of person with enough love in my heart to finally give you the absolute, unconditional love you’ve always deserved? ”
I take a step toward him, needing him to hear this.
“Because I do, Remus. I love you.”
The words hang in the air between us—the first time I’ve said them out loud.
“And I see how you’re hurting. I want to prove to you that you can be loved completely—wholly, fiercely, unconditionally—in a world where he exists too. Let me prove to you how worthy I think you are. How deserving of love and happiness and everything good.”
He’s only standing a few feet away from me, but it feels like miles. I can see him shaking with emotion he doesn’t know how to express. Doesn’t know how to process.
An explosive knock at the door stops both of us before anything else can be said. Before I can reach him. Before he can respond.
Remus stalks toward the door and yanks it open with an explosive, “What?”
“It’s happening,” Abaddon says, voice urgent and grim.
My face whips back and forth between both of them. “What is?!”