Epilogue
Greyson sat among the ancient olive trees, staring out over the Adriatic Sea.
A long time ago, on a warm summer day in Cres, he’d first kissed her.
Though they’d insisted it was accidental, they’d both chosen the same exact spot in the grove to find solace in their thoughts.
For but a season, puppy love had once struck them like cupid’s arrow.
A wealthy nobleman, he’d been introduced to both ladies.
He hadn’t expressed interest in Zyaire, yet in her mind, she’d been convinced otherwise.
On the contrary, Ilsbeth had captivated him from the minute she’d accepted a dance.
With razor sharp wit, the fiery witch, Donna Ilsbeth, kept him on his toes.
The innocence and intensity of their affair burned hot and fast, ultimately ending as quickly as it started.
Both had their excuses for letting go. As her sister turned bitter, indulging in black magick, Ilsbeth had been forced to make a difficult decision that would forever change her life.
Her spell had both exiled Zyaire and exalted Ilsbeth’s magick.
Greyson walked away, knowing he’d never bond with her.
She’d never be his, and the High Priestess would go on to be one of the most powerful witches in the world.
Over the centuries, he’d see her every now and then.
And though not bonded, fate always had a way of bringing them back together.
A powerful but dangerous witch, Ilsbeth had been a thorn in his side most of his supernatural existence.
Yet after her death, he couldn’t deny the melancholy he couldn’t quite seem to shake.
Though he wouldn’t ever bet against the witch, Greyson could no longer sense her on this realm. Only he and Ilsbeth had known the ultimate sacrifice was necessary. He didn’t have the heart to tell Rafe about her plan. It hadn’t been his secret to share.
Here, among the olive trees, Greyson remembered the High Priestess as the young woman he’d fallen for all those years ago.
The ancient vampire inhaled deeply as he lay back onto the slope, the sea air cleansing his soul.
Like a gentle massage on his mind, the waves splashed against the shore.
Greyson relaxed, allowing the sound of the sea to lull him into a deep meditation until he drifted off to sleep.
Click. His eyes flashed open, his whole body on alert. An attractive woman stood over him, a crossbow aimed directly at his forehead, its silver-tipped bolt ready to fire.
“Don’t move!” she ordered.
“Well, hello, love.”