Then he kissed me, and I found I didn’t want safety or peace.
Not one bit.
The second lot of assassins came three days later.
Lukyan had been expecting them, so we were ready.
And they all died bloody.
With Lukyan and I standing together, fighting side by side.
“We have to leave, lzyubov moya,” Lukyan said, brushing a spatter of blood from my cheek. Not my own. “You know this.”
His eyes went around the room, touching on the bodies, the blood, the horror with a jaded gaze.
“All this, this is the beginning. This house will turn into a graveyard for anyone who tries to harm you, take you from me,” he promised, hand biting into my hip. “But it will eventually become our crypt if we don’t leave. A sitting target is a dead one. And you’re not dead, not anymore. I will not let it be so.” His stare was unyielding. “You just have to make sure you don’t let it be so either. It’s time to make sure that the weakness left inside you—the humanity that lingers—doesn’t kill you. That’s what it’ll do, given the chance. Because humanity kills almost as well as it helps. The scourge and the blessing, as del Toro says.”
I might’ve imagined the twinkle in his eye.
“You’re afraid of the outside world because it’ll crush you, hurt you, destroy you. But you have been crushed, hurt, destroyed.” His words were harsh and gentle at the same time. “So why is it that you fear the world that offers more of the same when you are not the same? When instead of letting the world destroy you, you can offer destruction right back?”
I gazed at him, the man who once spoke in no words, only death. The one who had been unthinkably cruel and also unfathomably kind. The saint playing the grim reaper. Or the grim reaper playing the saint. My scourge and blessing.
I stepped out of his arms, and he made a move to snatch me back into them. I held up my hand to stop him.
He did so.
My eyes were fixated on him. Then they moved, scanning over the death with what I imagined was the same jaded gaze. The dead didn’t scare me. It was what lay beyond. That garden that taunted me with the sheer vibrancy of life.
I stepped over a body, not bothering with the warm blood that stained my bare feet. It would sink in, find its place with my monster, and then it would wash off.
My fingers closed around the doorknob, testing the strength of the metal with my palms, playing with the idea of opening it. Letting the world in. Instinctively, my palms moistened, my heartbeat accelerated, and the air became thick and sticky.
Then I remembered my pain. My suffering. Made myself feel the utter horror of it all. How could a garden be worse than that? Maybe that was it. Maybe I knew it couldn’t be worse, so I feared it might be better.
Heat hit my back.
“I’m at home in misery and pain,” I whispered. “I don’t know where I fit around beauty and peace.”
Lukyan’s breath kissed the nape of my neck. “Your home will always be misery and pain, Elizabeth. You will never fit in with beauty or peace. That’s not in the plan for us now. But that doesn’t mean you can’t exist around it. That we can’t.”
His hand closed over mine and we opened the door together, the rush of the spring breeze chasing away the stench of death, or just masking it for the moment. I would always be able to taste the rot of decay underneath. Like the underbelly of monsters beneath humanity.
We stayed there, Lukyan’s heat pressing into my back, reminding me of my safety in misery and pain. The breeze of gentle and false beauty and peace flickering in front of me. He sensed I wasn’t ready to step out into it just yet, that it wasn’t something to be forced in that moment.
The man who’d forced me to become everything I was, everything I had to be, let me have that moment, because he knew something. He knew everything.
That this might’ve been the last snatch of whatever kind of peace we’d be afforded in this lifetime.
Because we had to leave.
I knew this.
Only death waited for me here.
And for once, I wasn’t going to wait for it.
There was no big speech the next day. Not many words at all.
Lukyan made gentle, rough, furious and all-consuming love to me the moment I woke up. It wasn’t that cringeworthy and horrible ‘making love’ that the movies made look so fluid and tender. Because that’s what the world wanted love to be.
They didn’t want to lift the curtain and show everyone how violent and fatal the reality was.
But we had no curtain to cling to. I didn’t want to. Because that was all I needed. The reality of our ugly and all-consuming love.
We packed a small bag each. There was nothing to take we couldn’t purchase on the road. Nothing of consequence to carry with us. We carried everything of consequence in places that didn’t zip up.
Lukyan destroyed every single one of his computers, his hard drives. He had a small tablet with all the relevant information on our families.
On our targets.
There were no words of encouragement, no questions about my state of mind. Lukyan knew my state of mind. Intimately. So he knew it was a barrel of rioting snakes.
But he also knew I could handle it.
Because I had to.
And it was that resounding faith in me, his surety that I would be able to do this because he knew I could, that had me putting one step in front of the other as we approached those foyer doors and their death-inducing stare.
Every step closer, the bag I had thought was so empty seemed to gain a bucket of lead. My back started to strain under the weight, pain shooting through my body as it tried to betray me, convince me that I couldn’t continue without dying.
Lukyan was right, it was that little piece of humanity inside me vying for my death. Because I wasn’t going to walk out that door and be able to hold onto my humanity. I wouldn’t survive with it intact. I would lose what connected me to the sprawling, pulsing masses on this planet. Well and truly stop belonging.
And some chemical survival instinct in me stopped me. Or tried to. Because humanity tried to tell us that straying from normality and morality was death. And my own little slice of that tried to tell me that too. Tried to scream it at me.
I paused, right in front of the door, resolve wavering as the weight of the decision settled heavily on my frail shoulders.
“What if I’m too weak, too fragile for this?” I whispered to the door.
The door didn’t answer, only smiled at me. Showing its power.
Lukyan turned to face me, forced me to do the same.
“You’re fragile,” he agreed. “But not in the way a flower might be. That if you crush it, pluck it, it’s destroyed. No, like a land mine. When you try to step on it, it not only destroys itself but everything around it. The world that tried to crush it. It was just lying in wait for the perfect moment.” He grasped my chin roughly. “That’s what you need to realize, lzyubov moya. The time for destruction is now.” He opened the door and the wind cut through me, circled around me.
Instantly, my palm moistened, my heartbeat increased, and my throat turned to sandpaper.
“You always thought the world was going to end you. But you’re more likely to end the world than the other way around. And we will, together. End every single person who ever had a hand in your pain.”
He stepped outside and the loss of him was palpable. On reflex, my feet followed him, like a magnet. It was only when my foot was inches above the brick steps of the outside that I realized what I was doing.
I froze.
Lukyan watched me. Waited. “It’s time for destruction.”
And I let my eyes connect with his as my foot landed on the ground. My other followed, and my hand settled into Lukyan’s dry and firm grasp.
“It’s time for destruction,” I agreed.
Then I let the world swallow us up, crush us, just so we could crush it right back.
End.
Acknowle
dgments
If you’re reading this, then you know that this book is different than anything I’ve ever written. Darker. Grittier. Hard to read—trust me it was hard to write.
I put my heart and soul into this book and into these characters. This is not your traditional HEA, but this is what the story needed. What Lukyan and Elizabeth needed.
So first, I want to thank you, the reader. Thanks for taking a chance on something different from me. Thank you for your support. Thank you for reading my books. It means the world.
My mum. You’re my hero. You’re going to be in here, at the end of every book I write. Because I wouldn’t be here without you. I wouldn’t have my love of reading without you. I wouldn’t have had the confidence or strength to do this if you had not made me into a strong and confident woman.
My dad. He can’t read this, but I know he’s watching over me. He made me into the woman I am today. He is the reason I’m stubborn, refuse to quit, and determined to do anything a boy can do—and do it better.
My girls, Harriet, Polly, & Emma. My rocks. My crazies. My everything. I’m so lucky to have such a precious circle of besties. You’re awesome. I love you all.
Jessica Gadziala. My #sisterqueen. Thank you for always straightening my crown.
My betas, Ginny, Sarah, Amy, Caro, Annette, & Michelle. You ladies gave me the best feedback on this book and calmed my many nerves about writing something so different. I adore each and every one of you for supporting me and helping get this story perfect.
About the Author
Anne Malcom has been an avid reader since before she can remember, her mother responsible for her book addiction. It started with magical journeys into the world of Hogwarts and Middle Earth, then as she grew up her reading tastes grew with her. Her obsession with books and romance novels in particular gave Anne the opportunity to find another passion, writing. Finding writing about alpha males and happily ever afters more fun than reading about them, Anne is not about to stop any time soon.
Raised in small town New Zealand, Anne had a truly special childhood, growing up in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. She has backpacked across Europe, ridden camels in the Sahara, eaten her way through Italy, and had all sorts of crazy adventures. For now, she's back at home in New Zealand and quite happy. But who knows when the travel bug will bite her again.
Anne has a kick ass reader group and she’d love to see you there!
Want to get stalking?
www.annemalcomauthor.com
[email protected] Also by Anne Malcom
The Sons of Templar MC
Making the Cut (#1)
Firestorm (#2)
Outside the Lines: A Sons of Templar Novella (#2.5)
Out of the Ashes (#3)
Beyond the Horizon (#4)
Dauntless (#5)
Unquiet Mind
Echoes of Silence (#1)
Skeletons of Us (#2)
Broken Shelves (#3)
Greenstone Security
Still Waters (#1)
Shield (#2)
The Vein Chronicles
Fatal Harmony (#1)
Deathless (#2)
Anne Malcom, Birds of Paradise
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