Chapter 37
Serenity
The mens’ kisses left me quaking with the need to wrap myself around someone.
But I wasn’t ready for that, yet.
I couldn’t. I needed to go slower… I needed someone who would understand.
I think they all understood. But Hunter saw it, I didn’t need to say a word. And given where I slept each night, it made sense.
One feigned yawn, and he read my mind, telling the guys it was time for bed and taking me by the hand, leading me to his room.
We got ready for bed in record time. And as he set his phone alarm and we climbed under the shelter of his sheets, I reminded myself we all had the daunting task of attending the Fae girl’s funeral tomorrow.
Dagger and I had felt compelled to attend to try and honor the poor girl we couldn’t save, and the others had agreed to support us.
But now, as the date loomed, I worried if we’d even be welcome. I sighed deeply.
“Hey, what just happened?” Hunter pulled me close.
“Just thinking of the funeral tomorrow.” I burrowed into the shelter of his chest. “I’m glad we played that game tonight. I hope you are too. I don’t want to lose those feelings. I was just worrying about the future. But I guess it will come either way, when the sun comes up.”
“You’re right about that. And I am glad about the game. It was fun. And so wonderful to see you happy.” His hands tangled in my hair and his mouth met mine
“I couldn’t have been happy without you there.” I mumbled against his lips before we kissed again.
We passed the next hour like two first-time lovers tangled together in his bed, mouths and fingers exploring like we could commit every inch to memory.
Between kisses, we breathed each other in, murmuring ‘I love yous’ like oaths.
I loved him.
God, what a wild thought.
I loved him.
I barely slept, lying awake in his arms, wondering at how I’d gotten here, my breathing synchronizing with a shifter. Marveling at how the mere thought of being separated from him made me cling tighter. How had my feelings changed when my plans to leave this paranormal city hadn’t?
The thought wouldn’t leave, not even at the somber Fae funeral service the next morning. The declaration of love made my heart leap but my mind panic, creating a spike of pure adrenaline that kept me upright and alert on the bench.
My head raised at the word “prince.” A handsome blonde with pointed Fae ears took to the podium in the crematorium’s memorial room. What had they said his name was? Osric? Could that be right?
I still couldn’t concentrate.
I reached over to grip Hunter’s hand, absorbing the steadying presence that had enveloped my life and helped me find my feet again.
But now my head was in the clouds, wondering if we could make this work, if he’d really abandon the club—his ticket to his picket-fence future—to come with me when I left New Nebraska.
“I know that, at times like these,” Prince Osric was saying, “in our grief, we may make certain exaggerations in homage to our loved ones, when they pass on to the next life. About how they were this great thing, or that amazing way, how kind, good, and so on. But in this case, I can say unequivocally, Serafina, the Viscountess of Somerset, was a bright, shining star, with an insatiable and fearless passion for adventure, deeply loved by all who knew her.” The Fae prince paused, his eyes reddening, glistening, as he wiped away a tear.
“Excuse me. As I was saying, my cousin was deeply loved and will be sorely, sorely missed.”
He stared at the coffin for a second and shuddered, as if giving himself a mental slap. Poor man.
I felt as if I’d barged into another harrowing scene—this one of a private, intimate, and terrible grief.
All this talk of love lost, after I seemed to have found it at last, opened the door for a slithering, barbed anxiety to wind its way up my throat. I tried to swallow it down and focus on the prince’s words.
“And it was her love of adventure and discovering unusual things that led her to plead with her parents to come for a school semester in New Nebraska, a place she told me her human girlfriends frequently referred to as”—he looked up and scanned the packed crematorium’s church-like benches, managing a melancholy smile—“‘the weirdest freakin’ place on Earth.’”
Sobs briefly broke into soft, bittersweet laughter, but one fair-haired couple in the front only let out ragged wails. The sound was stifled by the cave they’d made of their own bodies, sitting curled over one another. They had to be her parents. My heart broke for them.
With a sure, languid stride, even while clearing his eyes of tears, the prince crossed to the central stage where the girl’s coffin lay. Kneeling, he placed a single white rose on the polished oak box and bent even lower to plant a kiss. “We will meet in the next life, in the greatest adventure.”
His head hanging, he walked down the stage’s dank gray steps and sat on one of the front benches, beside the Queen of the Fae, her face obscured by a sheer veil flowing from her black hat.
Still holding Hunter’s hand, I looped my other arm through Bryce’s.
We were all in the back, and he sat in the pew’s furthest corner.
Steel stands with a black rope hung between them formed a cordon around our group in a semi-circle, with Hunter, Dagger and Seb as the first line of defense should anyone try to cross to get near Bryce.
He’d been nervous about the crowds but insisted he should come to show his respects to Serafina.
What a beautiful name, for a beautiful young girl.
Only fifteen… like I’d been when those monsters first got ahold of me.
I dug my nails into my palms to fight off the tightness forming in my chest.
Those demons had brutalized Serafina. Turned her corpse into a puppet.
The memory of Conrad and Armand’s mockery hit me square in the chest, and I suddenly felt dizzy with sorrow and disgust, clinging to Hunter and Bryce.
After the mansion inferno, was there even anything left of the poor girl to cremate?
Bryce leaned into me, whispering so low it was barely audible.
“Are you okay, angel? Do you need to go out for some fresh air?”
Patting his calfskin-gloved hand, I shook my head and managed a thin smile, replying in my quietest whisper, “I’m okay. I just haven’t been to many funerals. They’re a little eerie, that’s all. Don’t worry.”
More eulogies followed, the final one given by the queen herself.
She was so elegant, and dignified in the face of such senseless violence.
At the end of her touching and heartfelt dedication, she told the mourners that Serafina’s ashes would be flown back to England and scattered over the lush, green fields of Somerset. Somehow, that made me feel better.
And all the more appreciative that I’d survived to adulthood. That could have easily been me lying dead at fifteen, except no queens or princes would have wept at my funeral. I’d have been tossed in a dumpster or maybe the Missouri.
Instead, I had four amazing guys who all wanted to share my life, and we were starting to get on so well too. Hunter and Dagger still had some fences to mend, but despite the tension last night, I thought they’d taken some crucial steps forward.
I kissed Hunter’s scruffy cheek, then rested my head on Bryce’s shoulder.
The crematorium was becoming stuffy. Discreetly slipping off the full-length cashmere coat that Hunter had insisted on buying me for the bitter winter ahead, I wafted my black cardigan back and forth, trying to cool my chest. The crowds of other mourners, pressed shoulder to shoulder, both on the benches and crammed together at the entrance, probably weren’t helping my feverish, spaced-out feeling.
The coffin sank slowly downward into the waiting oven, disappearing as the platform opened and closed for the tragic girl’s last journey on this Earth.
A flash of anger spiked through me, and I swore I’d see that bastard Conrad and Armand go down in flames too, preferably screaming and begging, as the Viscountess had at the drug lab and Billy had all those years ago at the feeding den.
Those pieces of shit were going to burn.
I breathed deeply, trying my best to stay cool while reminding myself this wasn’t my day of grieving, but that of the Fae.
With that, the funeral ended and select attendees were asked to meet at the Grand Sapphire Hotel’s convention center for refreshments and to share condolences.
The invites were limited—or half the damn city would have turned up for a free buffet of 5-star food and alcohol—but Bryce, being business royalty, had been invited, and the Fae had told him to bring his family too.
Bryce’s parents had passed away, and he had no siblings, but he’d asked us to accompany him without a second’s hesitation.
Seb and I, it seemed, had quickly become part of the adoptive family he’d woven with Dagger and Hunter years ago.
Bearing his condition in mind, we waited until the crematorium was empty before making our way back to the limo.
I was glad to get out into the chill after the slightly claustrophobic stuffiness of the funeral and feel the breeze sucking the heat off my face and hands as we approached a waiting Gerald, everyone stony faced as we slipped inside the stretch.
The convention center was a bustle of hugs, teary smiles, and dark clothing.
Bryce had arranged a cordoned-off section in a corner beside a fire exit, and six burly hotel security guys—likely shifters—stood guard nearby in their sharp gray suits and shiny shoes.
Of course, such an arrangement was easily made for Bryce.
He owned the damn place.
Considering this was one of the most prestigious hotels in all of New Nebraska, according to the guys, the cost of the wake must have been astronomical. The Fae royal family must have a lot of money to burn.