Chapter 54 Arabella
Arabella
“ALARIC AND I ARE READING The Five Love Languages, but he thinks they aren’t nearly specific enough,” Winnie says.
“The book is nonsense. The true love languages are cats, villain redemption arcs, the new wheeled ladder Winnie had installed in the library, when people let me tell them exciting facts I’ve learned about twentieth century surrealist sculpture, slaying one’s enemies, and when Winnie didn’t break up with me after discovering my Egyptian room,” Alaric announces.
“And hot chocolate!” Winnie adds, as Reginald presents her with one of his signature drinks.
Reginald places blood chocolates down in front of Gideon and me.
I snuggle deeper into Gideon’s shoulder as we lie together on the sofa in front of the roaring fire Alaric had Reginald light for Winnie’s sake.
Cleo VII curls up in front of the flames like a cat, while the actual castle cat, Mirabelle, stands ramrod straight on the back of Alaric’s chair, hissing at the interloper.
The four of us have enjoyed a lovely evening together, drinking blood and wine and playing Catan. No one eviscerated Gideon after he made endless wood jokes. Alaric won, but his victory dance isn’t nearly as hot as mine. I shall triumph in the next round.
It’s been two weeks since Gideon and I drained John Astor dry and buried his body in the woods with an amulet from Lilac that should prevent him from healing himself.
In that time, I’ve signed over co-ownership of the estate back to Gideon.
It may bring the Conclave down on our heads, but Sanctus Estate needs Gideon Blake.
And so do I.
For now, things are calm. Gideon and I can get to know each other in this century. We’ve wasted so much time dancing around each other, plotting and scheming, when we could have been fucking and arguing and fucking some more.
So we’re dating. We take walks in the sculpture garden, attend a weekly painting class, and argue endlessly over which vintage to share for dinner.
And tonight, we’re on a double date with Winnie and Alaric at Black Crag Castle, and it’s so delightfully ordinary that I can’t believe it’s really happening—
“Oh, Alaric, the surprise.” Winnie leans forward, her golden hair catching the firelight as she kicks her feet in anticipation.
“Of course.” Alaric reaches behind his chair and removes a small stone box inlaid with precious jewels. The winged goddess Isis is carved into the lid. “I believe this belongs to you,” he says stiffly, handing me the box.
“Why?” I’ve never seen it before in my life.
“Look inside, Arabella,” Winnie laughs.
Frowning, I lift the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, is a glittering collar of jewels with a blue scarab beetle and coiled snakes in the centre.
My necklace.
The moment I touch the lapis lazuli scarab beetle at the centre, I know it’s real. The Antirhodos Collar. Firelight catches the jewels so they sparkle with dappled light, like the surface of a lily pond in one of Claude’s paintings.
This is impossible.
Gideon’s fingers dig into my knee. He stares at his friend, his eyes bugging out of his head. “How… where…?”
“I found it in Alaric’s Egyptian room.” Winnie grins. “It was in a chest with jewellery and coins from the Ptolemaic era. I recognised it from the poster of you at Beth’s studio.”
“Then it’s yours.” I hold out the box towards Alaric, even as the magic in my veins hums from proximity to the necklace. This must be what Astor meant by the necklace calling him. He felt it nearby because it was nearby. All this time it’s been sitting in a dusty chest in Alaric’s castle.
“Don’t be absurd.” Alaric recoils. “The blue would clash with my eyes. It is yours, Arabella. It belongs with you.”
“This certainly calls into question the integrity of édouard’s mystery seller.” Gideon takes the box. “Allow me.”
Gideon’s fingers sizzle against my skin as he drapes the jewels around my neck, carefully fastening them. “So Dora’s vision did come true.”
As soon as their weight drapes across my skin, it’s as if they never left. As if my neck was made for them.
I run to a mirror on the wall and study them from every angle. I can’t stop running my hands over them. Mine. Mine again. Gideon comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my neck, trailing his lips along the place where jewels and skin meet.
“I always knew you were a goddess,” he whispers. “Now the world will know it.”
I touch the tip of my finger to the scarab, listening to the hum of magic in my veins. All those years I believed my luck had left me, but instead, real magic had been close. Real magic in the form of a grieving, bloodthirsty vampire willing us together again.
Looking at Gideon’s cobalt eyes, I believe it. I believe even the gods bend the rules for this man.
I didn’t get lucky because of magical jewels. I’m lucky because I am loved, fiercely and imperfectly, by this man.
“How do they feel?” Gideon asks, a golden curl flopping over his eye.
“Like they’ve come home,” I say as I pull him to me, and kiss the infuriating smirk from his lips.