Eternity's Awakening

  “There is no aisle,” I countered. “So tacky. There’s a stage instead.”

  “Because that’s so much classier,” Sophie said dryly.

  I grinned. “Naturally.”

  We shared one of those horrible looks that signify everlasting friendship and loyalty. Worse than that, it actually felt nice.

  That was until something slithered in Sophie’s eyes, and suddenly her warm grip was ice cold.

  “Witchy?” I demanded. “If you die on my wedding day, that’s taking a whole new meaning to stealing my thunder.” My voice was sharp but also slightly frantic.

  Thankfully she blinked again and her body temperature warmed slightly. Not enough, though. It wasn’t even as warm as mine, and even with increased blood flow, I still ran colder than a human.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  She looked good.

  Great, in fact. Her skin, which had been getting too close to translucent for my liking, was suddenly creamy and milky. The bags under her eyes, along with the dark shadows, had disappeared. Now there were just the regular dark eyeliner smudges.

  Her hair was a choppy mess of layers, shiny and artfully styled to look like a crack addict might wear it.

  She’d dropped a significant amount of weight, but her bones weren’t as obvious under her skin anymore, and she was showing a lot of it. Her purple dress was slashed at her ribs, showing off the tattoo of a moon with snakes wrapped around it.

  It curved around her body, finishing only slightly below her butt cheeks. The lace, thigh-high boots she was wearing were the right side of hooker chic.

  She was a cross between a rock goddess and streetwalker. In other words, classic Sophie.

  But it was the very fact that she looked so good when she’d been so drawn and pale the day before that was suspect.

  “Witch, is there something going on I need to know about?” I asked.

  She removed her hand from mine, eyes swimming with confusion, as if she was trying to snatch onto a thought that was only half remembered. She suddenly held her body tight, as if someone had run her through with a sword. I knew what that looked like because I’d actually seen her get run through with a sword.

  Then, like all the looks from before, it was gone. “There’s a lot you need to know about, Isla,” she said cheerfully. “Like appropriate decorum at christenings and what not to say about your sex life to the cocktail waitress at Serendipity. But for now, let’s get you hitched so you can continue living in sin, just married.”

  She winked.

  I might’ve pushed the matter had I not been plagued with the brutal bitch some might like to call love.

  If I hadn’t been blinded by that motherfucker, maybe I would’ve realized what her naked neck meant, and maybe I could’ve saved the lives of people I cared about.

  Or maybe it would’ve made no difference.

  Maybe they were all going to die either way.

  Thorne

  “You sure you want to do this?” Silver murmured from beside him, though there was no reason to keep his voice low, every supernatural creature in the room could hear him.

  Thorne didn’t move his eyes from the door he could hear the faint sound of Isla’s heart behind. It had been his constant whenever he was near her, since the moment it had come alive inside her chest. His elevated hearing wasn’t level to a vampire’s, therefore he shouldn’t have been able to hear her heartbeat from across the apartment—but he did. And fuck was he glad he did. It calmed him. In the middle of the shitstorm that they were fighting, his chaotic, crazy, and reckless vampire’s heartbeat calmed him.

  “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure,” Thorne rumbled back, not lowering his voice.

  He saw Silver’s smirk from the corner of his eye.

  His best friend knew there was no going back from this. Thorne knew there was no going back the second he caught her emerald stare that day in the precinct.

  It had nothing to do with some prophecy, what him and Isla had. It had everything to do with her.

  That reckless, chaotic, crazy vampire who pretended that she cared for no one but herself. Yet every single thing she did, every single time she also met the grave, it was to save the world that she pretended she didn’t care about.

  The people she pretended she didn’t care about.

  The half blood vampire who had lost an eye because of her, who Thorne knew would happily lose a limb for her. Because she had shown him respect—or her version of it—when everyone else showed him disdain.

  The little girl standing beside him, who, until recently, only had Thorne, who now had a vampire who she considered hung the moon. Despite what Isla said, Thorne knew she’d die for his sister. In a heartbeat.

  She’d die for every single being in this room.

  And that was what worried him.

  What fucking terrified him.

  His own heart stopped beating the second the door he’d been staring at opened, and the whole world stepped out.

  The whole world encased in a black wedding dress that showed more than it covered and that had Thorne’s dick iron in his pants.

  He didn’t hesitate. He was across the room in a second, his black bride in his arms, her heartbeat warming all that icy terror he’d been battling seconds ago.

  It didn’t snatch it away completely, Thorne knew that was impossible.

  Because when your whole world had a heartbeat, it could be destroyed in an instant.

  Isla

  The wedding itself was awesome.

  Scott sobbed like a little girl.

  And somehow, that didn’t ruin it completely.

  Maybe because I barely even noticed the sniveling idiot. Because I only had eyes for the extremely fuckable slayer in the charcoal suit with a white dress shirt underneath. The collar was undone, so the fresh bite marks on his neck were on show; he wore them like I wore the black diamond on my finger.

  His hands tangled in mine the second I emerged from the hall and he rushed over from where he’d been drinking with Silver. The glass he’d been sipping from flew through the air and would’ve smashed if not for Chace deftly catching it with a grin.

  Thorne was in front of me in less than an instant.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “You look really hot.”

  His eyes swam, liquid quicksilver, running down the length of my dress and setting my skin aflame with the power of his gaze. His grip tightened in mine.

  “The wedding is going to be delayed,” Thorne growled, either to me or everyone loosely gathered around us, I wasn’t sure which.

  And then we weren’t in the living room of my apartment—I’d had all the furniture cleared out so it didn’t get ruined when someone started fighting—that was done up beautifully by the interior decorator I had on speed dial.

  We were back in my room before I could blink. Thorne had slammed me against the wall, ripped off my panties and plunged inside me in the space of two of my thundering heartbeats.

  I gasped at the welcome and utterly exquisite intrusion. He was rough, hands tangling in my hair, callused palms catching the priceless beadwork on my wedding dress. But none of it mattered. In the brutal coupling of our two bodies, I realized the truth.

  I wasn’t doing this for dresses or jewelry or attention. I was doing this because I didn’t want to exist another second in this world without being Thorne’s in every single way humanly and inhumanly possible.

  Moreover, I didn’t want to die in this world without making sure I had bound myself to him so tightly that he’d find his way to me in the underworld eventually.

  His eyes bored into me, yanking those thoughts from my mind, taking away my need and ability to speak.

  Then, coming back down to earth after he’d treated me to the most intense orgasm ever, Thorne took my face in his hands with care I wouldn’t have been able to imagine from a man who’d just fucked me against the wall with abandon, and laid his lips to mine.

  “You are the most beautiful creature to ever walk this earth, and
will ever walk this earth,” he murmured.

  I blinked at him. “I know,” I whispered back.

  The corner of his mouth quirked, and he laid his lips on mine once more. “And you’re mine.”

  I raised my brow. “No, buddy, you’re mine.”

  Another mouth quirk. “I can live with that.”

  “As long as you don’t die with that, I’m happy,” I told him, eyes swimming in his. “Shit,” I muttered. “We should’ve waited to say that. They’re perfect wedding vows.”

  He full-on grinned that time. “I thought you didn’t want vows. I was under the impression Sophie was going to stand in front of us and say, ‘I use all my witchy powers given to me by nature or whatever to bind these two beautiful people together forever, or until one of them perishes and surrenders to eternal damnation,’” he parroted.

  I smiled. “Aw, honey, you remembered,” I purred.

  He laid his lips on my head. “Let’s go get married.”

  And we did.

  Sophie, sadly, did not repeat the speech I’d drafted for her. She stood between us, grinning wickedly at my mussed hair and rumpled dress. Silver and Chace stood beside Thorne, Duncan and Scott beside me.

  Duncan had done some heavy grumbling about having to be a “fecking bridesmaid” and how if he “wasn’t so comfortable in his masculinity, it would’ve been a problem,” but there he was, standing with me.

  Scott hadn’t complained at all.

  He would’ve donned pink taffeta without blinking. I’d been tempted to make him do it, but it would’ve ruined the aesthetics.

  And the aesthetics were good.

  As mentioned, all furniture was taken out from my living room and replaced with plush seating, scattered around the room, not lined up like those stupid humans did it. Black lights hung in the thousands from the ceiling, and despite fighting that they would look girly and lame, they were kickass.

  The bar was fully stocked, obviously.

  We had a small gathering of our closest friends and kind-of enemies here. Dante came. As did a couple of slayers who didn’t hate me.

  Including Duncan’s slayer. Wearing a dress. Her hair was down, longer than I thought, and she was a knockout.

  Lucille was there, despite the danger. I’d heard she’d promised to kill any babysitter assigned to her and come no matter what when Thorne tried to forbid her.

  That made me happy enough—or stupid enough—to let her be my flower girl.

  Granted, she was doing it wearing a black dress that was covered in skulls and had black taffeta underneath it, puffing out the full skirt, her combat boots peeking out, and she was carrying black roses.

  I’d even let her hug me when she saw me.

  Only for a second.

  And now she was holding my fucking hand as the ceremony started.

  “We are here today to celebrate the unholy union between two enemies turned lovers,” Sophie began with a grin. “Isla prepared a speech for me, and under threat of death, I am to recite it verbatim.” She winked at me. “So naturally, I’m going to toss that in the proverbial trash.”

  There was a low chuckle from Duncan.

  I was too jazzed with the glow of my orgasm to much care. Or was it Thorne’s arms around me? Or the entire bottle of Cristal I’d downed?

  “This union is blessed and cursed by the gods, and they think it is with them we give thanks,” Sophie began. “But it is because of no gods that we stand here today. It is because of one human and one demon. Fatal Harmony between two people.”

  I narrowed my eyes for a second, worried she was going to lapse into prophecy in the middle of a wedding. That would suck.

  But she didn’t.

  She looked downward. “Lay your hands on top of each other’s,” she commanded softly.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Nuh-uh, I was very clear on any witchy type hand-fasting scenario. This is to go in the face of all religions, all equally insulted,” I snapped.

  “Just put your fucking hands together,” she hissed.

  “Five thousand says Isla and Sophie will end this wedding with a bitch fight,” Duncan muttered.

  Thorne snatched my hand in his before I could reach back and break Duncan’s nose.

  Sophie laid her hand atop ours. “I take the hands of two of blood and bone,” she murmured. “For the worlds to curse and bless both. May the evil of the world feed your fight, may good bathe it in light. Death will know no touch over the beings here today, for it is beyond the realm of the grave these bonds will stay. With the power of The Four bequeathed to me, I make bind these two until the end of time.” A jolt of fire and ice shuddered through our intertwined hands.

  “So mote it be,” Sophie whispered.

  And then the killing began.

  Chapter 14

  The air was still thick with the words Sophie had uttered to seal our union. And that’s what it felt like—a union. Something inside us being locked, something final. A lasting and definite reminder that if one of us perished, the other was lost too.

  But I didn’t get the chance to panic at what such a commitment was, or even to kiss the shit out of my hubby. No, I only got to slide his platinum black ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand, marvel at how it looked for a hot second, and then someone crashed through the door.

  I didn’t know it at the time, but Rick had posted guards at the entrances to my apartment building and at the elevator. Obviously if I’d known, I would’ve gone and killed them myself.

  Then yelled at Rick.

  But they were dead at the end of it all anyway.

  And I didn’t have the energy to yell at Rick then.

  When I didn’t have the energy for yelling at monarchs, you knew shit had gone down.

  And it started with a single vampire striding through the front door like he owned the place.

  Granted, that was how my father walked into every single room.

  Every single—and married—immortal in the room was taut and ready for attack, probably pissed that they hadn’t sensed him until he made himself seen. It was a talent of my father’s, honed over the centuries.

  I sighed loudly as Thorne positioned himself slightly in front of me, and I had pressed Lucille into my back.

  Sophie was behind all of us, which made no sense at all. She should’ve been the witch shield—she was the toughest of them all. Then again, the room was three-quarter male, so they didn’t take nicely to females doing their fighting for them. Strange, because Sophie and I had been doing the fighting for everyone since pretty much the beginning.

  I shoved past Thorne and kicked Duncan’s feet out from under him as he tried to run forward to attack. Flames danced in Dante’s eyes. The bottom of my dress hissed and singed when it brushed past him.

  “Silver, lock Lucille in the closet,” I heard Thorne hiss.

  The little twit began to argue, but then her voice was muffled by what I guessed was Silver’s hands over her mouth, and her heartbeat became fainter.

  “If you’re here to give me away, Daddy dearest, it’s a little late. About five hundred years, give or take,” I said calmly, feeling Thorne’s heat at my back.

  He’d followed me. Of course he had. That’s what he did when I walked headfirst into a threatening situation. He always had my back.

  Everyone behind me in that room quite literally had my back. It was a strange feeling to be confronted with, since only a handful of months prior, the only one who had my back was the current lucky immortal taking me from behind.

  And Sophie—not taking me from behind—was always at my side, another piece of me, a witchy one, so I never really counted her. And she was beside me right then, eyes narrowed and palms crackling in warning.

  “As you can see, you’ve missed the important part of the wedding,” I said. Then I tilted my head and pretended to pause. “Who am I kidding? You haven’t missed the most important part. We didn’t get a cake because we just knew before the time came for sweets, someone would crash, and it’
d be much more fun to cut up someone we hate.”

  I held my hand back, palm up to Thorne without breaking eye contact from my father’s glacial stare. “Enchanted dagger please, hubby,” I asked sweetly.

  “I’m not here to fight you, Isla,” my father bit out as Thorne placed the dagger in my waiting palm.

  I was pleasantly surprised, since I thought he’d be a wet blanket about killing my father at our wedding, or more likely about the small twinge of pain that radiated through my bones while holding the blade spelled to kill all immortals.

  “Easy, baby,” he murmured in my ear.

  I grinned. “You know I’m easy,” I purred back.

  “At least listen to me before you kill me, Isla,” my father demanded.

  “Well that sounds boring.” I looked to Sophie for agreement. “Doesn’t it, witch?”

  She nodded. “Utterly dull.”

  I looked back to my father. “I can’t let word get around that my wedding had no murder and was boring to boot.”

  My father stepped forward. I gripped the knife tighter. Thorne’s body stiffened. Magic saturated the air, air that was sharp and hot from the demon preparing to turn my father into a fireball.

  “There’s going to be murder, Isla,” he hissed, his voice changing from his even monotone for the first time since ever.

  That’s what gave me pause. The pure dread in his voice.

  The fear.

  “They’re coming for you,” he said, his eyes exploring the small but deadly group otherwise known as my wedding party. “And you don’t have enough strength to win.” He clenched my arm. “You need to leave.”

  Thorne wrenched me back at the same time I tried to rip my arm from my father’s grasp.

  But the damage had already been done. Understanding dawned in my father’s gaze as he noted the warmth of my skin, felt the thundering heartbeat.

  “Isla.” His voice was drawn and broken.

  And I didn’t get to find out what he said, because it was at that point that the door was literally blown open.