CHAPTER 29
POPPY
The key to perfect bridesmaid makeup is waterproof everything.
My phone sits on the counter, face-down. I’ve been ignoring it for twenty minutes, ever since the texts started coming in.
I flip it over. Twelve messages from Sage.
SAGE: WEDDING DAY!!! How are we feeling???
SAGE: Wait are you even awake
SAGE: Poppy
SAGE: POPPY
SAGE: If you’re having sex with your maybe vampire boyfriend right now I will never forgive you for not responding to me
SAGE: Actually no I’d forgive you that’s a valid excuse
SAGE: But TELL ME THINGS
SAGE: I’m calling you in 5 minutes whether you like it or not
SAGE: 4 minutes
SAGE: 3
SAGE: 2
SAGE: 1
My phone rings.
I take a breath. Check my reflection—makeup acceptable, eyes only slightly manic—and answer.
“Hey! Sorry, I was in the shower.”
“Liar. Your voice has that tone that screams, ‘I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror having an existential crisis’.” Sage’s voice is warm despite the accusation. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Wedding day nerves.”
“You’re not the one getting married.”
“Sympathy nerves. Bridesmaid solidarity.” I grab my makeup bag and pretend to sort through it, as if she could somehow see me doing nothing. “I just want everything to be perfect for Violet.”
“Uh-huh.” A pause. “Where’s Julian?”
My heart stutters. “He went for a walk. Early morning thing. He doesn’t sleep much.”
“That tracks. Mysterious billionaires probably don’t need sleep like us common folk.” I can hear her settling into her couch, probably with coffee. “So. How are you really? Scale of one to ten, one being ‘totally fine’ and ten being ‘actively questioning all my life choices.’”
I look at myself in the mirror. At the woman who spent the night curled against a vampire, who kissed him goodbye before he went to confront a monster, who is currently pretending everything is normal while her hands shake.
“Solid four,” I say. “Maybe a five. But that’s just standard wedding stress. You know how hard it is to be a bridesmaid, but then you throw my mom into the mix—”
“Oh, I know. Remember Cousin Dana’s wedding? Your mom made the photographer cry.”
“She made two photographers cry. The second one was just collateral damage.”
Sage laughs, and something in my chest loosens. This is normal. This is my best friend, three thousand miles away, having no idea that the man I love is currently—
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about what’s happening on those cliffs.
“Okay, but seriously,” Sage says. “Julian. How’s that going? Last update I got was that you guys were saying the L-word to each other and then you went radio silent for twelve hours.”
“It’s going well.”
“‘Well.’ That’s the most boring adjective in the English language. Give me something, Poppy. Details. Romance. Drama.”
You want drama? My boyfriend might currently be killing his vampire progeny who’s been murdering his lovers for 146 years. That dramatic enough for you?
“He’s... perfect,” I say instead. “Annoyingly perfect. Like, suspiciously perfect.”
“Suspicious how?”
“Like maybe he’s a robot sent from the future to make all other men look bad by comparison.”
“Hot robot boyfriend. I’d watch that movie.” Sage’s voice softens. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” The word comes out quieter than I intend. “I really do.”
“Then I’m happy for you. Even if he is mysterious and probably hiding a bunch of dark secrets.”
You have no idea.
A knock at the suite door makes me jump. My heart slams against my ribs.
“Hey, I have to go,” I say. “Hair and makeup starts in an hour and I need to find my strapless bra.”
“Okay, but text me pictures! And video of your speech! And—”
“Goodbye, Sage.”
“Love you! Tell your hot robot boyfriend I said hi!”
I hang up. Set the phone down with hands that are suddenly shaking again.
The knock comes a second time. Softer now. Almost hesitant.
I cross to the door. Look through the peephole.
Julian.
I have the door open before I finish processing. He stands in the hallway, still wearing the dark clothes he left in, looking like he’s aged a decade in the hours since I’ve seen him.
But he’s here. He’s alive. He came back.
“Julian.” His name comes out broken.
I cross to him in three steps. My arms wrap around him instinctively as I press my face against his chest.
He holds me. I feel his arms tighten, feel him exhale like he’s been holding his breath for hours. His chin rests on top of my head.
“Is it over?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Is he—” I hesitate. “Did you—”
“He’s not dead.” Julian’s voice is rough. Tired. “But he won’t be a threat anymore. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
I pull back. Study his face—the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes, the way he’s looking at me.
“What happened?”
He struggles for words. I watch him decide how much to tell me.
“We gave him what he wanted,” he says finally. “He spent 146 years telling me that death was too quick. That loneliness was the real punishment.” He closes his eyes. “So we gave him loneliness. Forever.”
“Julian. Where is he?”
“At the bottom of the ocean.” He opens his eyes. Meets mine. “Wrapped in silver chains. He’ll be conscious. Aware. Unable to escape. For as long as he exists.”
I let that sink in.
At the bottom of the ocean. Alone. Forever. Aware of every second, every minute, every century stretching out into endless dark.
I wait for the horror to come. The revulsion. The moment I realize I’ve fallen in love with someone capable of that kind of cruelty.
It doesn’t come.
“He killed three women,” I say. “Burned one alive. Drove another to suicide. Left the third on your bed like a message.” My hands tighten on his arms. “And he was going to do the same thing to me. To my family.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m not going to feel sorry for him.” The words come out hard and cold, and I don’t flinch from it. “Maybe that makes me a terrible person. But he made his choices for 146 years. Now he lives with them.”
“Forever.”
“Forever.” I pull him toward the couch. Sit him down beside me and tuck myself against his side. “You did what you had to do. What he forced you to do.”
“I keep thinking about who he used to be.” Julian stares at the brightening windows. “Before Vienna. Before any of this. He was my friend, Poppy. My brother. And now he’s—”
“Now he’s paying for his choices.” I find his hand. Squeeze. “That’s not your fault. That’s his.”
We sit in silence as the morning builds around us. The tropical sun pours through the windows, drenching everything in a radiant, golden haze. Somewhere in this resort, staff are preparing for a wedding. Guests are waking up, ordering room service, planning what to wear.
None of them know what happened on those cliffs. What sank beneath those waves.
And maybe that’s okay. Maybe some things don’t need to be known. Maybe protecting the people you love means carrying secrets they’ll never understand.
“Julian?”
“Yes?”
“My sister’s wedding is in less than nine hours.
” I smile despite everything. “So here’s what’s going to happen.
You’re going to take a shower. I’m going to order us breakfast. We’re going to eat something and pretend to be normal people for a few hours.
And then we’re going to go watch my sister marry the love of her life, and we’re going to celebrate, and we’re going to dance at the reception. ”
“I don’t dance.”
“You do now. That’s the deal.” I poke his chest. “You want to date me? You dance at weddings. Non-negotiable.”
“That seems like extortion.”
“That seems like romance.” I grin at him—because if I don’t grin, I might cry, and I’ve already done my makeup. “Besides, you owe me. I’ve spent four days dealing with vampire drama at my sister’s destination wedding. I deserve a dance.”
“Fair point.”
I stand. Hold out my hand.
He takes it. Lets me pull him to his feet.
“Julian?” I say.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for coming back.”
He pulls me close. Presses his lips to my hair.
“I sort of had to.” A grin creeps across his face. “You paid me.”
I laugh—soft, exhausted, real.
“Speaking of which, don’t you think you have enough money?”
“Us billionaires wouldn’t stay billionaires if we gave back all the money we made.”
“Really?”
“When was the last time you looked at your bank account?”
“Before we left.”
“Your money was already refunded. I’m here on my dime.”
“Finally! Some good news!”
“Wasn’t not-being-hunted-by-a-guy-trying-to-kill-me good news?”
“It was, but I really wanted to buy a camera with that money.”
“Poppy, the last thing you’ll ever have to worry about is money. We’re even giving Chris and your sister the best present ever: a free destination wedding.”
“Really?”
“They won’t know about it until they go to check out, but it’s all been comped. Hotel rooms for them and all the guests. Food. Wedding. All of it.”
“That’s going to be expensive.”
“Like I said, best present ever—all in your name.”
“That’s too generous.”
“I own the place, so it’s less generous than you think.”
“Stop downplaying it.” I give him a kiss. “Julian, you may be the hottest, most generous vampire who ever lived, but you really need to go shower. You smell like ocean and existential crisis.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“I’m an influencer. Oddly specific is my brand.”
For the next six hours, I’m giving my followers tons of posts to enjoy: showing off my bridesmaid dress, photos of the groomsmen, and I livestream my make-up being put on by a professional.
Now, I’m standing in the bridal suite watching my sister have a meltdown about her veil.
“It’s crooked,” Violet says for the fourteenth time. “Look at it. It’s sitting wrong.”
“It’s sitting exactly the way it sat during the fitting,” I say. “It’s sitting the way veils have sat since the invention of veils.”
“But it’s crooked.”
“It’s not crooked.”
“It’s a little crooked,” Madison offers.
I shoot her a look that could curdle milk. She suddenly becomes very interested in her champagne.
“Vi.” I take my sister’s hands. Make her look at me. “The veil is perfect. Your dress is perfect. Your makeup is perfect. In two hours, you’re going to walk down that aisle and marry the man you love, and none of this is going to matter because you’ll be too happy to care about veil angles.”
Violet’s eyes well up. “When did you get so wise?”
“Somewhere between the rehearsal dinner and this morning.” I squeeze her hands. “You’re going to be amazing. I promise.”
“What if I trip?”
“Then I’ll trip, too, and we’ll go viral together. Think of the content.”
She laughs—tears welling up in her eyes. “I love you, Pops.”
“I love you, too.” I hug her carefully, mindful of the dress and the hair and the three hours of professional makeup. “Now let’s go get you married.”
The ceremony is everything a destination wedding should be.
A cascade of golden light washes over the cliff-side pavilion in the late afternoon.
Beautiful flowers are everywhere—despite what my mom might say—their scent mixing with salt air.
Fifty guests watch Chris as tears build up in his eyes—which he’ll probably blame on allergies or something.
But I know he loves my sister, and it brings a smile to my face.
I stand at the front with the other bridesmaids, bouquet clutched in hands that have finally stopped shaking.
My mother sits in the front row, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she probably monogrammed specifically for this occasion.
Preston and Serenity are somewhere in the middle rows, but I don’t bother looking for them.
Because Julian is in the third row, aisle seat, watching me with an expression that makes my chest tight.
He’s cleaned up impossibly well—dark suit, crisp white shirt, looking like he stepped out of a magazine spread rather than a supernatural confrontation. When our eyes meet, he smiles. Just slightly. Just for me.
I smile back.
The music shifts. Everyone stands. And Violet appears at the end of the aisle, glowing like something out of a fairy tale.
She walks toward Chris like he’s the only person in the world. He watches her approach with the kind of love that makes my throat close up. When she reaches him, he whispers something that makes her laugh through her tears.
The officiant speaks. They exchange vows—beautiful, personal promises about choosing each other every day, about building a life together, about being partners through whatever comes.
“In good times and in bad,” Chris says. “In danger and in safety.”
My eyes find Julian’s. He’s already looking at me.
In danger and in safety.
Yeah. I understand that now.
They exchange rings. They kiss. The crowd erupts in cheers.
And somewhere deep in my chest, something that’s been wound tight for days finally loosens.
It’s over. Really over. The monster is gone, my sister is married, and the man I love is watching me from the third row like I’m the only one here.
For the first time in four days, I let myself breathe.