Eternal Eden
In addition to my misbehaving heart, I had overreacting tear ducts to contend with as well. I refolded the note and tucked it back into the box. I fingered over the sapphire promise, and an air of clarity comforted me.
I wanted this sapphire promise with all of my heart, but I knew what I wanted even more . . . with my entire being, and that was William’s Immortal life never being threatened. I would give everything I had; including forfeiting this sapphire promise to ensure this would be so.
I wrapped the necklace around my neck and heard the clasp ting into place, where it would rest for the remainder of my existence. I glided through the balcony doors, and hid the pewter box in one of my running shoes I had resting beneath my bed. I was all set for my morning “run”, and despite Patrick’s warning that I couldn’t take anything with me, there was no way I was leaving the box behind. I’d stuff it in my sport’s bra if I had to.
I’d just slid my shoe back under the bed when Annabelle burst into the room. “What do you think?” she inquired, twirling three times in my direction.
Annabelle had transformed herself in only several minutes time what had taken hours for me to get ready. She wore an emerald-green, silk dress and had piled her mass of honey and caramel hair into tight curls at the crown of her head. Her petite stature was accentuated by the four-inch heels she paraded around in like a true pro.
“You look beautiful,” I complimented.
“Let’s get this show on the road.” Finished with her twirling, she came to a stop beside me and elbowed my side. “We didn’t get all dressed up for nothing, did we? Let’s give those men downstairs something to dream about.” She smiled ruefully, moving her eyebrows up and down like a jackhammer.
There was only one man whose dreams I was concerned with, and I knew I’d been in them generations before I’d been born. Annabelle could have the rest of the men’s dreams—I only hoped to create a few more images for him tonight that would visit his dreams while we were apart.
As we turned to exit the room, something jumped to mind. “Oh wait. I’ve got a present for you,” I said, walking as fast as I trusted my stiletto-strapped feet to move.
“A present?” Annabelle questioned, sounding confused. “What for?”
I pulled open the drawer to my bedside nightstand, and touched the diamond choker for the first time since I’d placed it in its hiding spot nearly a week ago.
“Because you’ve always been so nice to me, and I won’t see you in class any more.” I hid the hand holding the necklace behind my back as I walked back to her.
“You didn’t have to do that. We’ll still see each other,” she replied.
I didn’t want to respond with a lie to her, so I flashed my hand forward and revealed the diamonds that shown like stars.
Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my gosh!” She reached her hand out to touch the necklace I wanted out of my hand since it felt so white hot, it froze my skin instead of burning it.
“Let me put it on for you,” I said, whisking behind the astonished young girl. I clasped the choker in position and turned her around. Her eyes were welling over.
“Are you sure? Don’t you want to wear it tonight?” she asked, as her hands ran along the strand that must have contained hundreds of carets.
“I’m sure. It’s yours,” I emphasized, winking at her.
“I don’t know what to say . . . thank you!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me.
I hugged her back, attempting to keep my own tears welled up. “Come on, let’s go.”
She beamed at me and grabbed my hand, pulling me through the door and down the hall, her smile almost as sparkly as the jewels circling her neck.
The foyer below was a fury with a rainbow or colors. White-coated waiter’s carried champagne, and what was surely John’s famous Pinot Noir, on silver trays. The sound of hundreds of soprano, base and tenor voices combined in unison to form a symphony of pleasant buzzing.
Annabelle clutched at my arm in excitement, and the same emotion glimmered in her eyes. We hadn’t taken more than one step down the staircase when she exclaimed, “Oh, no!” Her hand flew to one of her ears. “I lost my other earring.” She looked at me full-faced to confirm what she already felt to be true, so I nodded my head.
“One’s missing.” I smiled apologetically at her. I should have noticed this before we’d started down to the party. I would have if my thoughts had not been so over consumed with him all the time. Nothing else seemed to matter . . . least of all one absent earring from my new friend’s ear.
“Darn it! It must have fallen off in the changing room. I’ve got to go look for it.” She turned and began rushing down the hallway.
I swept around to follow her.
“No, you go on ahead.” She waved her hand in encouragement. “Don’t miss another minute of this party—go, enjoy! I’ll see you down there,” she encouraged, before turning the corner and vanishing into the hallway.
The confidence I’d had in walking into this exquisite affair with another companion removed, I felt the beginnings of a panic-attack. I gripped both hands to my stomach, trying to physically force the nervous contractions taking place in there to quiet.
I couldn’t stand here on the first step of the staircase looking like an idiot frozen in stone—an idiot hyperventilating. I mustered up as much bravado my introvert self had (it was measly at best), drew my shoulders back, straightened my back, and affixed my arms at my side. It was a struggle to keep them there though . . . they were so long and felt awkward not doing something. One calming breath in, and I took another step down, followed by the next.
I felt I might be pulling this confidence thing off, that was until I made it to the landing of the staircase and noticed the majority of eyes in the room were on me, paralyzing me. I turned to stone, surveying the staring eyes below me and willing their relentless stares to move somewhere else—anywhere else.
The panic started again, and with force. One hand burst through the imaginary shackles I’d envisioned to keep my arms at my side, and reached for my stomach. I steadied myself by grabbing the railing with my other hand. The room started to spin, getting faster with each circumspect. My legs were shaking beneath me, their movement hopefully muted by the layers of my dress.
“My, oh my, Miss Dawson.” The deep bass carried above the silent crowd of spectators. John emerged through the crowd at the bottom of the stairs, the look in his eyes bringing back the nauseous pangs in my stomach. He stood on the bottom stair for a few more seconds, his eyes growing even wider as they searched over every inch of my body. “You’re a vision.”
A few heads nodded in approval.
John ascended the stairway to me. “May I?” his words didn’t sound like a question as he held out his arm for me to take. His eyes fell upon the sapphire pendant and I noticed his brow furrow for a moment, and then he recovered.
With all eyes on the two of us now, I slid my arm tentatively through his and placed my hand on his forearm. His eyes didn’t leave me as he led me down the remaining stairs, and I saw the same anticipation in his eyes I’d seen there a few days ago. The mystery behind the anticipation still made me uneasy. I relaxed some when I found the majority of eyes had turned elsewhere by the time John and I stepped down on the marble floor of the foyer.
I saw Patrick standing a ways off. He was resting an arm on the fireplace mantle . . . casually confidant—looking like some hybrid of James Bond and a men’s perfume model—and when his eyes met mine, he clutched his hands to his heart dramatically and faltered backwards, feigning something that resembled a heart attack. I stifled a giggle and turned my eyes from him for fear of not being able to repress any more laughter if I continued viewing his award-winning performance.
“Good evening, John.” A familiar voice called out from behind us. I turned around, trying to make my release of John’s arm appear nonchalant.
Draco and Julius approached us, accompanied by two stunning women. The dark, exoti
c-looking woman on Draco’s arm was as tall as me, had the highest cheekbones in the free world, and had large, introspective eyes—sapphire blue to match Draco’s.
“Allow me to make the formal introductions—” John shook hands with Draco and Julius, acknowledging each woman with a nod after he’d greeted the Councilmen whose arm they were on.
“Bryn—” He planted his hand on the small of my back, and I couldn’t extinguish the look of horror that flashed across my face. Taking a quick scan of the five faces surrounding me, it didn’t look as if any of them noticed my repulsion; although something that looked like empathy may have glinted across the eyes of the woman beside Julius.
“You already know Draco and Julius.” Each man bowed his head and smiled formally at me as John continued, “This is Yasmin, Draco’s wife.” He motioned to the exotic woman and she smiled at me curtly, as if inconvenienced by the formalities. “And this is Savannah, Julius’s wife.”
I was met with a warmer smile when the second woman was introduced to me. Savannah appeared to embody refinement, elegance, and civility. When she opened her mouth to greet me, the creamy southern accent that flowed from her lips revealed where her refined disposition came from. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
Appearing satisfied the three of us woman would no doubt find something to chatter mindlessly about, John herded Draco and Julius into their own threesome of a circle to discuss something in low voices.
I smiled politely at the two women in front of me. Yasmin turned her head to the side, pretending to be more interested in the just-arrived couple entering through the door.
Savannah disrupted the silence. “I’ve heard so much about you from Julius. I was quite eager to meet you.” I looked at her with confusion, but whether she acknowledged it or not, she did not address it.
“Now that we’ve met, we must all get together soon.” She winked at me, and touched one of Yasmin’s arms that sat showily on the bottom half of her hour glass shaped body. “What do you think Yasmin . . . it’s been awhile since we all went shopping in Paris?” she asked, and while it seemed like something someone would say with sarcasm, Savannah sounded anything but.
Yasmin turned her head to Savannah for a quick second, shooting her silent response of disapproval, and went back to turning her interest elsewhere. It was Patrick who caught her attention this time, and she appeared much more interested with this excuse of a distraction than she had the first.
A sisterly feeling of protectiveness tore at me when I noticed the faint, upward curling of her lips—her eyes ablaze with something that resembled inappropriate thoughts.
Patrick didn’t seem to notice the striking female looking at him with a conquering kind of want. Whenever his eyes turned to us every ten seconds or so, they watched me with the same vigilance his older brother did. I was sure William’s present absence from the event was the reason for Patrick’s observation—William had bestowed the title of my personal security guard on him.
“Making friends already?” John asked me as the three men returned to us. Yasmin smiled ruefully in answer and let out a quick reply, “Hardly.”
“If you’ll all excuse us, I’d like to introduce Bryn to some more guests,” John announced, exchanging a look with Draco that made me wish the remaining twelve hours before I was out of this place, would pass by quickly.
John made the rounds with me in tow for the next hour, introducing me to the rest of the Councilman’s wives—all just as gorgeous and sophisticated as the first two I’d met. The Councilman were just as imposing in casual conversation as they’d been when we first met in the formal setting of the cavernous room hidden below us.
When John turned to chauffeur me to another cluster of guests, I saw him.
I knew my ability to pick him out in a crowd was probably due to my bias, but I noticed there was more than just my pair of eyes viewing him with enthusiasm. Perhaps the eyes of those still single woman wistfully imagining a Betrothal tonight to the quiet, fiercely handsome man visiting with a couple near the grand piano where a pianist played a melancholy nocturne.
William in a tuxedo was nothing I’d imagined it would be—my images were an utter disgrace to the brilliance blinding me. Swoon-worthy was an understatement.
There was something deeply satisfying—and torturous, as well—gazing at this man with the most casual of gazes, so if anyone was watching, my eyes would not give us away. Would not give away that it had been all over for me the day I met him, that I’d never see another man but him, and that my life, along with my love, belonged to him forever.
I didn’t hold a teensiest portion back for myself. The gift of my life and my love for him were one; they held no distinction from one another. My love for him was my life, and my life was loving him. If ever either one was called upon one day to save him, I’d readily give them in exchange for his life.
As if feeling the intensity of my thoughts, he glanced up from his current company, and without needing to search through the room full of strangers, his eyes fell upon mine and he allowed the fullest smile possible given the surroundings. His eyes glowed with the emotion his smile could not convey. I placed my hand over the sapphire stone and returned the careful smile that was full of silent thanks. His response at my thanks was less careful. He beamed with pride from my apparent fondness for the necklace circling my neck.
My happy thoughts were interrupted by a resounding clang and the reverberations that flowed from the large gong positioned outside the open doors of the ballroom. Someone announced that dinner was being served in the grand ballroom and requested everyone make their way in to seat themselves.
I’d never been in this room before; its doors had always been closed, hiding whatever was behind them. Knowing the vastness and artisan-like beauty of the foyer where the party began, I was not expecting to find anything more grandiose within the ballroom.
I was immensely mistaken. John escorted me through the soaring double doors of the ballroom and I gaped at the expanse of the room in front of me. It didn’t seem possible the Manor could hold a room of this size.
It seemed as long and wide as a football field and its sweeping ceiling ran to the height of the three-storied estate. On the walls were expertly painted murals depicting different scenes and landscapes. If not for the expansive wooden dance floor taking up the center of the room, one might mistake the masterful artwork and the room holding it, to have been a museum.
A patterned wool carpet bordered around the dance floor, where rows of rectangular tables awaited the incoming guests. The room glowed from the three crystal chandeliers blooming like orchids above the dance floor and from the gentle candlelight radiating from the white pillared candles in their tall hurricanes.
At the opposite end of the room, four sets of French doors were open, revealing an expansive outdoor patio area also lit by candlelight. There was a small orchestra playing in one of the back corners of the room, playing the same tune the pianist was in the foyer, and from the notes I heard playing over the ivories behind me, the two musical parties were keeping stride with one another— note for note.
John led me to the far end of the ballroom and slid out one of the chairs for me near the center of the long table, where my back would face the dance floor. He slid my chair forward as I took a seat, and while he walked around the long table, I craned my neck back to watch for William. He trailed in, one of the last remaining guests to enter.
His eyes quickly and easily found me. Just as quickly—and before my breath could be completely taken away—his eyes roamed around the rest of the room, content I was accounted for.
It was then, when I tried to pry my eyes away from William, I noticed the majority of the guests were standing silently behind their selected seats; their heads turned in reverence towards the far end of the ball room where I was sitting.
Following their stares, I discovered what, or whom, they were waiting for. The six remaining Councilmen—John was now standing
behind his seat across from me—had just finished seating their wives and were skirting around the long edges of the table at the distinctly prominent head of the evening dinner. I felt uneasy being one of only seven others seated in the room brimming with hundreds of bodies.
Something beyond the horror of Hades hit me as I looked down the row to my right at the six other seated Immortals—the wives of the Councilmen—the ones who’d been selected with great care and concern for the powerful men standing across from them. I was glaringly out of place sitting beside these six women who were so revered by the respectfully standing guests and their powerful husbands.
Who was I to be sitting with them—so new an Immortal, only a couple weeks of knowledge and understanding for the Immortal way compared with their decades, if not centuries of wisdom and adherence to our ways? What was I, a mere guest in John Townsend’s house, doing sitting across from him on the evening of an honored Immortal tradition—the Betrothal Ball?
An invisible force hit me with such power I physically felt my internal organs crushing under its power. My airways constricted and I felt the blood leave my upper body and pool in my legs.
Despite the known embarrassment and scene it would case, I prayed for the release of fainting to find me—to release me even momentarily from the epiphany I’d just had. The very reason I was seated with the other six women. The seemingly inconsequential puzzle pieces of the last two weeks came together in a cataclysmic rendering.
The formal introduction of the Council and all their peculiar questions, the pleased looks of anticipation on John’s face, his request of Patrick’s presence on William and my overnight mission, the car, the necklace, this horrid dress . . . my mind flew through every image of the last two weeks; piling up what should have been so clear to me. The images and clues I should have picked up on that had put me in this very seat tonight—across from John Townsend on the evening of the Betrothal Ball.
As if by some miracle, I saw him from the corner of my eye coming to rest behind a chair that stood two down and across the table from me. My terror-filled eyes met his, and his calm expression cracked when he saw me.
It only took a second or two for his eyes to read mine before I saw realization cover his face. His eyes didn’t leave mine, despite the horror contorting the muscles of his face, and I was thankful for that; for they held me in the only remaining confines of solace that were left in my life. Had his gaze shifted from mine as I knew it should to keep the watchful stares unsuspecting, I would have surely lost my sanity and broke down a millisecond later.
His eyelids dropped as his face contorted and I knew what he was thinking. He was cursing himself for missing the same signs and hints—that seemed so obvious with the luxury of hindsight—as I had.
He winced, and his face contorted with a pain so extreme it looked like something was pulling him apart from within.
Seeing him this way made me forget my own anxiety and I focused on nothing else but extinguishing the torment tearing him apart. The torment that hissed its accusations at him—how everything he’d done to keep me safe and out of harm’s way, all the pretences and careful measures taken—had been utterly useless from the very first day I entered Townsend Manor.
It had been all over the moment John saw me and realized what he wanted, and nothing could have changed that—no matter the elaborateness or the strength of the defenses built up around me by William’s diligence. John wanted me—and there was nothing, or no one, that could stop him.
Another wince shuddered through William as the evil inner voices continued their onslaught. I couldn’t stand to see the pain anymore. I didn’t care if we were found out, if I let my feelings be known for him, and his for me. What did it matter now anyways? There was nothing else besides the pain of the man I loved in front of me, and my basic need to make it right.
I slid my chair back while keeping my eyes on him, when Draco—at the center of the seven men—thundered, “Ladies and Gentlemen.”
The room became silent and all eyes shifted to the Chancellor . . . all eyes except for two sets.
“Welcome to the Betrothal Ball. I’d like to personally thank John for hosting tonight’s event and for the lavish hospitality we’ve all been met with.” Draco raised a glass filled with champagne at John. “And I’d like to propose a toast to tonight’s upcoming Betrothals. The Council, as always, has put a great deal of thought and consideration into tonight’s promises of Unity, and I’m sure you will all be pleased with the announced Betrothals.”
I noticed John stand taller (if that was possible) at this, but my eyes were not going to leave William’s.
“And as always,” he spoke with great heaviness and conviction, “what the Council wills, may no one challenge.”
He raised his glass again, and everyone else followed in suit (everyone again except for William and me). Draco shouted out, “Cheers!” and then lifted the glass to his lips.
The resounding chorus of cheers didn’t shake my stare, nor did the seven men across from me who took their seats in an air of tradition. I hadn’t noticed anyone besides William, until the person standing to his left—separating him and John—placed his hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper something to him.
Whatever he’d said to his older brother had been persuasive enough for William to remove his gaze from me, and to partially reassemble the mask of indifference on his face.
My eyes drifted away from him after his left mine, as I was able to find the serenity from within I needed to keep from falling apart, but not before John could notice my emotion-filled stare.
His eyes flickered over to where William and Patrick sat, watching them with curious interest for a few moments, until obviously content they were paying me no attention, his gaze drifted back to me. The anticipation in them was not as constrained as it had been before. His eyes now pulsed with it, making no attempt at disguising the longings that ignited them.
Once the seven Councilmen seated themselves, the remaining guests sat in one loud eminent sounding thud, followed by the screeching slide of hundreds of chairs positioning forward.
I hardly noticed the following fanfare brought out by the dozens of servers. I think there was some kind of a salad, followed by a soup, and then some kind of fancy looking appetizer hidden within the shell of a crustacean; but none of it held any interest to me. I didn’t touch a bite of it.
I didn’t touch the crystal glasses in front of me, colored with the light purplish red of fine pinot noir, or the gold-tinged effervescent yellow of the champagne; and while the goblet of water might have superficially extinguished the flames that scalded my throat, I couldn’t muster up the strength to reach for the glass and lift it to my lips.
My body felt utterly spent and held no desire to expend unneeded energy unless that energy was focused on William, and given the company surrounding us and Patrick’s careful stares shifting between the two of us, there was no immediate future of being with him.
The main course was served, and while I hadn’t paid attention to John’s silence throughout the meal, I jolted when his voice broke through the buzz of dulled echoes.
“Is the food not to your liking this evening?” he questioned, eyeing over my untouched meal.
I was ever conscious of the brooding man two seats down and across from me, and as soon as John addressed me, I saw him thrust his seat back roughly. Patrick placed a firm hand on William’s shoulder, stalling him enough so he could whisper something to him.
“It’s fine, thank you,” I said flatly. “I’m not very hungry I guess.”
My answer seemed to appease John, for he went back to massacring the bleeding flank of meat on his plate, but not before blessing me with another one of his impure looks.
My eyes left John and scanned over the surrounding guests, quite sure William’s nearly explosive exchange had not gone unnoticed, but to my great relief, no one paid any special attention to the two Hayward brothers. I could only ima
gine the agony ripping William apart being so close to me, yet unable to protect me—to save me from the imposing edict.
If only I could get away from the careful eyes of those around us. I was sure William would follow and then we could escape together. Before my very soul and the rest of my eternity was tied to the man who sat grinning malevolently before me—to a man I wouldn’t want to spend thirty seconds alone with in an elevator, let alone all that came with the relationship of a husband and wife for the millennia to come.
A sheer piece of fabric whipping in the wind caught my attention. It was one of the sheer panels adorning the French doors . . . the open French doors that led outside and away from this doomed event.
A moment before I opened my mouth to excuse myself for a breath of fresh air, Draco stood ceremoniously, confirming I was too late to make an escape now. He sealed my fate with the clearing of his throat and the slow smile that spread across his lips. I could hear the heavy metal door slamming shut and the vault lever locking my dreams and love away forever. Hope left me that moment, and I slumped forward in my seat, looking down at my clasped hands that trembled in my lap.
“This is it, Bryn,” a female voice purred to my left, followed by her grabbing one of my hands in hers.
I hadn’t noticed there was anyone seated to my left, let alone who it was, so I was surprised to find Stella glowing beside me. Her level, cool demeanor was no longer present, and beside me sat a gushing, nearly exuberant woman. If only she knew I was the reason her hopes for becoming John’s blushing bride would never come to fruition, I’m sure her hand wouldn’t still be holding mine . . . or maybe she would have left it there and crushed every bone instead. Either would have been preferred to the awkward enthusiasm she was sharing with me now.
“They’re going to make the announcement of the Betrothals and then the orchestra will immediately break into the Ballad of the Betrothed,” she whispered with overwhelming emotion.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention again,” Draco commenced, beginning the journey to sealing away my heart. I didn’t care about anyone seeing, so I turned my eyes to the man destiny was carrying me away from with every passing second, and let them fill with everything I couldn’t speak out loud.
“The time has come to reveal the very reason we’ve all gathered here tonight—the time to announce the Betrothals.”
I listened to Draco’s damning speech with one ear, and with everything else I gave to William. His eyes closed for a moment and he let out a heavy sign, as if admitting what was coming at us before he lifted his eyes to mine, and then held them there with the same intensity of emotion radiating in mine.
“If you will, Gentlemen.” The six men surrounding him stood formally and silently. Draco drew a thick piece of parchment from the inside pocket of his tuxedo, unfolded it, and prepared to read the binding commitments.
I didn’t notice if John was watching the intimate exchange between William and me, or if Stella had pulled herself from her self-absorbed shell to notice anything happening around her, and I didn’t care about either. I didn’t care about anything but this last private moment William and I would ever have.
He smiled warmly, and there was no longer any hint of the anguish or anger that had contorted his face earlier. Like me, he was not allowing anything to ruin our last moments where we still belonged to one another and no one else.
As if to remind everyone for something no one needed to be reminded of (for I’m sure every Immortal in this room was aware of the severe penalty for breaking the sacred ties the Council ordered), Draco re-quoted one of the most revered of Immortal proverbs, “What the Council wills, may no Immortal or Mortal break.” He let a minute pass before continuing, letting the significance of the proverb settle amongst the crowd.
“The first of the five Betrothals we will be announcing tonight goes to . . .”
I didn’t listen anymore, I didn’t need to. I knew he would save John’s name for last; like some sort of grand finale.
I heard the congratulatory murmurs and hoots from the crowd as Draco announced the couples. Everyone seemed to be excited and an air of celebration flowed around us.
It felt more like a funeral to me—my own funeral. My soul would soon be placed in the dark confines of a wooden coffin, the rusty nails sealing it with finality. There were only seconds until the final nail was pounded in.
Without thinking, I mouthed, “I love you,” to the man still staring at me with a fondness that took my breath away.
His smile spread and he whispered back, “Forever.”
I nodded my head in one final bit of bravery, confirming my reciprocation of his vow to me. I would love him forever, regardless of us spending our lives apart.
I could almost feel the final nail being positioned against the wood top of my coffin.
“And finally, a man very important to all of us.” Draco motioned to the man that stood at the right far end of the standing Councilmen. “Mr. John Townsend is hereby and forever Betrothed to Miss . . .”
Several gentle taps of the hammer on the nail-head, driving it in the hard wood enough so it would stand on its own, righting itself for the final, condemning pound . . .
“Miss Bryn Dawson.”
A thunderous pound. The nail driven into its final resting place—my soul forever dead, damned, and sealed away.
There were several separate and succinct reactions that took place around the final announced couple. The one I was most attuned to was William’s face breaking, his eyes falling into pits of despair, perhaps never to look into mine with the same adoration they had just moments ago. His agony would have killed me where I sat had death been attainable.
There was Stella, whose hand urgently unwrapped itself from mine at the same moment she leaned as far back and away from me in her chair possible without actually falling off it. She muttered some sort of belligerent tirade, intertwined with carefully selected curse words, but I didn’t really hear a single thing she said.
And there was the crowd of well-wishers around John, patting him on the back or extending a hand in a congratulatory shake. He looked like the lead singer of a rock band being thwarted with raving fans.
I was grateful for the size of the crowd around him so he wouldn’t be able to immediately see the deadness that shadowed my face, and would now remain there forever. I doubted if another smile would find its way to my lips, and knew if one was possible in this nightmare filled world of mine, it would only be from the fond memories I would have of the only man I’d ever loved.
Right on cue, I heard the first staccato note of the orchestra as they prepared to break into their ballad, where the five newly announced couples would dance the first dance of their forever. I doubted my strength to hold myself upright, let alone my ability to dance a waltz in front of several hundred Immortals . . . in front of the man I knew whose insides would twist and contort into permanent scars if he watched.
I made one final wish and prayer to anyone that might be up above listening, that Patrick would remove him from the room before he had to watch me in John’s arms gliding over the dance floor.
A hand reached out from behind me, and a familiar voice murmured, “May I have this dance?”
I didn’t need to look at the now empty seat two down and across from me, nor see the vehement disapproval on Patrick’s face, nor the shock on Stella’s face, to know that the man requesting my presence on the dance floor was not the one I’d just been promised an eternity to.
My hands stopped trembling and I reached one up and fastened it securely over his, answering his question silently. My knees no longer weak, my head no longer clouded by despair, I stood up gracefully and he led me out onto the dance floor before any of the other four couples.
We were making our statement, and its deafening silence saturated the room.
At first, the faces of those observing the spectacle looked confused—as if they were questioning the name they
’d heard read alongside mine—but when the low rumble of whispers began, those confused faces turned to ones of disbelief or disapproval.
William walked me to the center of the floor. His eyes held mine, and there was a look of bittersweet triumph on his face. The hand that held mine felt warmer and more electric than my memory had done it justice, and I knew this was because I’d recently surrendered all hopes of ever touching him again and also knowing this would all be over soon. I cherished every fraction of a second of it.
“I lied, you know,” he whispered. I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes from my confusion.
“You shine brighter than a star,” he said, with more love in his voice than the room would hold—spilling into the foyer and out the French doors.
He turned and wrapped one arm around me to place his hand over my lower back and drew me close to him—closer than a formal waltz called for. I raised one of my arms and placed it on the side of his and my hand gripped tightly to the top of his shoulder. My heart was racing, and I could hear and feel his doing the same. His other hand grabbed mine and pulled it up, and then he led me across the floor.
The grace and fluidity with which he moved would have held my attention any other day, with the exception of the finality of tonight and wanting to be surrounded and aware of nothing but being in his arms for the last time. A few other couples had joined us on the floor, eyeing us carefully and dancing their own, less animate, waltzes—wary to keep their distance from the enamored duo that remained the silent eye of the storm.
The crowd around John must have diminished enough to the point John could now view what was happening on the dance floor. The tension in the room increased exponentially when I noticed John begin shoving his way through the thinned circle of well wishers.
I gripped my hands tighter on him, willing my mind to cement every line, muscle and plane of his face. We had only seconds remaining before John would be on us, prying me away from the perfect future I should have known better than to covet.
“Go, William . . . please,” I pleaded, breaking our silence.
He must have noticed John’s approach too, for he broke our stare to lean his head next to mine, lowering his voice to near silence, “I will not let him have you, Bryn. I will die before I let him claim you.” The shudder that ran through my body was stilled from his hold on me. “I love you. I will get you out of here—”
John had just stepped onto the dance floor when Patrick raced up behind William and placed a hand over his shoulder. “We need to get you out of here, Brother. Now.” He said with finality, taking a quick glance back at the fast approaching figure of John.
“Get him out of here, Patrick.” My words and eyes begged my beloved’s little brother, before they flashed back to the tortured eyes before me. “Please, go,” I whispered to him. My pleas had no affect on the determination blazing on his face.
“You won’t be able to save her if you die here tonight,” Patrick coaxed more urgently, when William’s hold only strengthened around me.
Reason flashed into his eyes. It looked like it took every bit of willpower in him to release his hold on me and take one step back. Patrick had to practically pull him backwards as he guided him towards the doors.
“We’ll be back for you, Bryn . . . soon,” Patrick promised, as William backed up with him. His eyes dazzled one more flash of affection before his face hardened into a businesslike expression, and he turned and quickened his step to match Patrick’s as they exited the room together.
Relief overcame me when I saw them disappear into the foyer, confident that Patrick would get his brother out and keep him safely away from the overwhelming numbers of John’s ever so ready and willing Enforcers.
A final footstep sounded strongly behind me, followed by a deliberate clearing of a throat.
I raised my chin and set my shoulders back, determined to meet him with the new confidence that boiled within me. A confidence that came from knowing I was able to give up what I loved and wanted more than anything else in the entire world to keep him safe. I was now no longer a match for John’s arrogant, entitled sort of confidence. I turned to meet his carefully masked face, but his eyes held the ferocity that he would not allow his face to form around.
He raised his eyebrows. “Having a good time?” His words were harsh sounding, teaming with sarcasm.
The quick lie of a cover up had already formulated in my head as I watched William walk away from me safe, so my answer flowed quickly, “William and Patrick had some sort of mission to attend to tonight and he wanted to wish me a quick congratulations before he left. He asked that I extend his deepest sentiments to you as well.”
His sentiments that the woman you’ve been Betrothed to will forever love him and despise you, I couldn’t help thinking.
John’s eyebrows lifted, and he carefully surveyed my face for several seconds—trying to find any detection of a lie or deceit in it. Finding nothing that would give me away, his lips pursed together and his eyes filled with an increasingly familiar gleam that would under normal circumstances—and had I eaten any of tonight’s culinary masterpieces—made me throw-up.
“I was rather jealous seeing you in William’s arms while I was inundated by morons pouring insincere congratulations my way. Please allow me to make up for the time we’ve already lost of our first dance together.” He held up one hand and curved one arm around the empty space before him, obviously wanting me to submit and step into his calculating web of an embrace.
I hesitated for a second or two, long enough for the doubt to return to his face . . . but I recovered. A slow, seductive smile (or what I imagined one would look like) pulled over my red-colored lips and I took two steps forward and weaved into his embrace.
Against every impulse and raw reaction in my body, I didn’t grimace when his hand clasped mine, or shudder when his hand reached far down the small of my back, gripping into the fleshy mantle of my backside. My eyes didn’t falter from his lustful stare, and the invisible strings that held the corners of my mouth up in a smile that had his heart and body reacting unbecomingly, did not snap.
“The jealousy was all mine when I saw you surrounded by everyone else but me,” I purred, trying to emulate the feline-esque qualities that Stella had perfected. “But now, here I am, just where I should be,” I murmured. And there’s the final thudding sound of the nail being driven in your coffin, John.