Chapter 30
MATHIAS
I’m awake hours before the sun rises, holding her close and watching her sleep.
Night still blankets the city, but even the darkness can’t hide her from me.
The delicate curve of her brow. Soft lips I can still feel on mine.
I shift restlessly. The weight of her in my arms barely registers, and yet the weight of us lying here together is momentous.
My mate, I marvel. Something I thought would never happen.
I know she wants me to explain what it all means, but I want her to choose me because she can’t live without me, not because the universe has deemed her my perfect match.
I don’t want to burden her with the knowledge that there will never be another for me.
Her long leg shifts, and I almost groan at the full press of her body against mine. One more inch and… I stop and close my eyes, counting to a thousand before I feel like I can open them without stripping her clothes off and sliding into her.
I glance down at the tempting globes. What the hell was I thinking when I bought silk pajamas? They mold to every curve she has. Not to mention the feel of the silk sensually sliding across my body.
Needing a distraction, I lie there, outlining contingencies, then adjusting and readjusting our plan based on what’s happened so far. After today, things will move fast.
Only thing I don’t know is whether Hawthorne has been successful with his task.
He’s been killing himself trying to find weapons to protect her against the gods.
There aren’t many, and the few mentioned in history have been buried in time.
Still, if anyone can do it, he can. We’re going to need all the help we can get.
I raise my head and glance at my phone. Five a.m. This is the longest I’ve stayed in bed in my life.
Four hours is my usual limit. Although if having her in my arms is an option, I’ll stay in bed every day.
Hopefully, this isn’t a onetime thing, like the universe is trying to be nice. A last gift before my demise.
Death matches start later this morning. I’ve had so little time to research my opponents that I can’t predict how this is going to go. The only one I’m familiar with is Frederick, and while some might be taken in by his suave exterior, he was Nolan’s right-hand man for a reason.
She sighs, and I harden further. What I wouldn’t give to hear all those noises of hers as she lies spread before me. Soon. When the sun finally crests the horizon, her heartbeat picks up, and she tilts her head back.
Sleepy blue eyes meet mine. “How long have you been awake?”
Forever. “A while. How did you sleep?”
“Like a rock,” she says, her fingers toying with my shirt. “You?”
Mm, definitely a rock. “Same.” I drop my hand from her body so she can move, but she flattens her palm on my chest and remains close.
“Are you okay?” I ask, brushing her hair back so I can fully see her face.
“Why did you kiss me in front of all those people?” she asks, her hand lightly caressing my chest.
For a moment, I’m caught up in the rhythmic stroke of her hand on my body.
“Mathias?”
Damn, my name sounds good coming from her lips. Pushing past the distraction, I answer her. “To protect you.” Lame. Give her more. “Vampires rarely kiss in public. To do so…is to tell them you’re mine. A declaration, if you will.”
“Like a territorial kind of thing?” She pauses. “Or a mate thing?”
All of the above, damn it. “Vampires only kiss their mates.”
Her eyes widen. “Like ever? Or do you mean in public?”
“Both,” I admit with a sigh. “It’s one of the few acts we hold most intimate.”
“Mm, that makes me feel special…and a bit guilty,” she says, surprising me. “Does it make you angry that I kiss them too—Jamison, Gatlin, and Hawthorne?”
“No, but another vampire would send me into orbit,” I admit ruefully. “Or really anyone other than the four of us.”
She frowns. “How many mates do vampires get?”
“What?”
“You said vampires only kiss their mates,” she explains with a shrug. “I’m just wondering what that means. I know we haven’t talked about the whole mate thing, but I only thought about the forever aspect of it, not sharing you with another.”
There’s an underlying note in her voice. Maybe jealousy? Smothering the grin that’s threatening to spill across my face, I open my mouth to tell her we only get one but shut it after a second. I don’t want to get into that discussion yet.
“I promise, we’ll talk about all of it, but we have to get ready and meet Marjorie,” I remind her. “Then we need to get to the arena for the matches.”
Her faces pales at my mention of the matches. “I wish we didn’t have to go.”
I scoot out from under her and press a light kiss to her lips. “So do I. While I shower, call Jamison and fill him in. I’ve already arranged for him to be here for the matches. Just in case…”
With a nod, she props herself up against the headboard and reaches for the phone. The sight of her in my bed, hair mussed, silky pajamas revealing little glimpses of smooth, delicious skin, almost makes me crawl back into bed. Instead, I settle for a cold shower and quick relief.
“She’s not coming,” I growl, looking out of the coffee shop’s window. “I should never have let her go last night.” Clenching my fist, I take a deep breath. “I should have detained her. Questioned her further.” I hand Phaedra the receipt.
She glances at it, then sucks in a breath. “I see. Maybe there will be a way to track her down later. Right now, we have to go. The opening ceremony is in an hour.”
Pocketing the receipt, I blow out a breath and toss my cup in the trash. She’s right. We need to go. I glance at the barista on the way out and nod my thanks.
My phone rings.
“We’re here,” Jamison informs me. “Yes, all three of us. There’s no way in hell we’re leaving her alone during this asinine match. Where do you want to meet?”
“They’re here,” I murmur to her, then return to the call. “North entrance to the arena. We’ll meet you there in forty-five minutes.”
When we get to our room, there’s a large dress box and a hanging bag on the door. Uneasy, I grab both and haul them inside.
“Who’s that from?” Phaedra asks, peering over my shoulder.
“Frederick,” I reply, handing her the card I discovered in her gift. “Apparently, the opening ceremony requires proper attire. Vampires have standards, you know.” Like most vampires, I love a bit of formality, except when it’s delivered by someone I don’t trust.
She tosses the card down and grabs the dress box.
Lifting off the lid, she reaches into the mountain of tissue paper and pulls out a heart-stopping dress.
Literally. Blood red, with chiffon ties on the shoulders and a plunging neckline, it’s a dress made to bare her neckline in a color that will drive them wild.
I scowl. Any other time I might enjoy the sight of her in it, but not in an arena full of bloodthirsty vampires.
What the hell was he thinking? The others are going to lose their shit, and they’ll be right.
This one is on me. I should have gotten her a dress.
I’ve been too distracted. Normally I’m ten steps ahead, not behind.
“Am I reading this wrong, or does this dress have snack written all over it?” Her husky voice is teetering on the edge of hysteria. She lays the dress down and digs into the box, pulling out matching shoes and a clutch.
My mind races to think of an option. “Wait here.”
I head to my closet and fling it open. My hand skims the clothes, looking for inspiration. Jackets will swallow her. While I wouldn’t mind covering her up, I don’t want this to look like she’s hiding. I stop and pull out a long-sleeved black button-down. This might work.
Heading back to the living room, I hold it up. “Thoughts?”
She fingers the black silk and nods. “I can work with this.” Stretching up, she places a fleeting kiss on my lips, then disappears into the bedroom.
With her gone, it takes me but seconds to send a couple of encrypted texts, then get into the tux Frederick sent. Savile Row, if I’m not mistaken. What game is he playing?
She glides out of the back room fifteen minutes later, the black silk shirt tucked into what is now a blood-red skirt.
Her hair is in a chignon, but her neck is covered by the starched collar that she’s pulled up.
I eye the deep V of the shirt she’s left open and resign myself to getting pissed off every time someone’s eyes dip down.
Twirling around, she pops a hand on her hip. “What do you think?”
“Perfect,” I tell her, moving closer. I dip my head and get a whiff of her unique scent and something surprising. “Are you wearing my cologne?”
“Couldn’t hurt, right?” she states with a shrug.
“Hmm, I like it.” That’s an understatement. The thought of her smelling like me in a sea of vampires lusting after her…hell yes. Curious, I peer down but luckily can’t see anything. I slide a finger down the center, and she inhales sharply. “Which ones did you choose?”
She arches a brow, but her eyes are twinkling. “That’s my little secret.”
Blue or green, doesn’t matter. My mind will be picturing both for the rest of the night. I chuckle. “Maybe you’ll be willing to trade information later.”
I place my lips by her ear and whisper, “Jamison will let us know when it’s done.”
“Mm, good.” She runs her hands down my lapels. “You should wear a tux more often. It’s sexy.”
Hmm, there’s a bit too much nervousness in those blue eyes. I draw her chin up and capture her lips with mine, plundering and possessing, until she’s breathless and her lips have that thoroughly-been-kissed look. “Now you’re ready.”
At the north entrance to the arena, Frederick and the other contenders are waiting for us.
I look around but don’t see Jamison. My phone pings, and I read the text.
Damn it. “The area has been cordoned off. Jamison and the others can’t get past the barricade.
” The clock begins to chime. “I don’t have time to take you to him, and you can’t go alone. Not here.”
Phaedra lifts her chin. “Then we’re sticking together.” Straightening my bow tie, she leans in. “Maybe we won’t have to search for our enemy after all.” Her eyes dart around the room as if she’s assessing each person.
She’s right. It has to be one of the contenders. Why else would they want us here?
The event organizer signals for the contenders to line up. Almost everyone here has a significant other with them, except for Frederick and a beast of a vampire standing against the wall.
Arranging a bored expression on my face, I study each of the contenders.
Tells begin to reveal themselves. Fear. Confidence.
A slight limp. Those on the balls of their feet can fight.
All of them have multiple weapons, including me.
My two short swords are sheathed in my back harness, and of course, my favorite stiletto is tucked into my sleeve.
Besides Frederick and the massive vamp, there’s me, a tall blond woman with extensive muscles and a wicked-looking knife in her belt.
Two lean vampires with black hair who look like they belong to the Carvis tribe in Asia.
One whose broad smile makes them look like a politician.
The last two, a male and female, look to be military.
I count again, glancing around the room for the last contender, then remember it’s Sarah. Could she be the one behind everything? She is Nolan’s daughter, after all.