Page 167 of Her Dark Promise

The silence passed between us for an unknown amount of time before I said, without turning to him, “I am the same age as the girl in the painting, but I am completely different from her,” voicing my thoughts from earlier.

“How so?”

I looked at him, bewildered. “Callum, I am centuries older than her.”

“Sure. You have more defined facial features, and technically, you are older than her. But I think that adds to your stature. The way you are right now saved me that night. The way you are right now saved Emilia’s life. The way you are right now is nothing compared to that girl in the portrait. I think you are perfect in every way possible. The way you are now is what made me fall madly in love with you.”

“Do you believe that?” I knew he did, but I just wanted to hear it again.

“That I love you?” I nodded. “From the moment that you slit their throats. Blood splattered all over your body, eyes glowing—right then I knew. I knew that my life was yours.”

I leaned my head toward him and captured his lips with mine. Slow. Sensual.

I moved my hands down to his face and curled my fingers on the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. It took a moment before he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me like it was the last thing that he would ever do in life.

His lips were so soft. He moaned at the taste of me, the utter bliss of this moment. I smiled and bit his lip. We explored each other as the fog lightened, and we heard noises coming from down the hall.

We laughed, our breaths intermingling as Callum asked, “Will I ever get you fully to myself again?”

I shook my head. “Does that upset you?”

He shook his head. He was content, and so was I.

Today was my three hundred and seventy-first birthday.

I told them I hadn’t been counting, but I had been. I’d been carving a tick into an old piece of wood I kept under my bed. I stared down at the newest mark on it; it could be the last one as an immortal being, but then again, I didn’t really believe it. Soren’s theory was just that—a theory.

Did I want it to be true? Yes. More than anything. I wanted alifewith them, but I had come to learn a hard truth about the world. We didn’t always get what we wanted. And I was cursed to never dream for more.

I could feel my throat close, my palms slick, as I thought about what it would mean when they realized my curse would never be broken. That they would choose to stay with me, never stepping another foot off these lands and die. Die without marrying… Having children…

Deep breath in. One. Two. Three. Deep breath out. One. Two. Three.

I closed my eyes as images of Callum and Bastian holding each other on a couch, watching Soren drone on and on about his next research obsession, crossed my mind. Emilia would be huddled off to the side, holding a book and reading while trying not to laugh at all of us.

A family.

Myfamily.

I had just gotten out of the bath when I entered my chambers to find Emilia staring at the dress I had made for her. The floor-length gown was more conservative than I was used to wearing, made of deep honeyed silk that matched her maple-colored eyes. White lace embroidery was stitched along the neck and cuffs of the long sleeves with ribbons throughout.

I had altered all the clothing for the evening, items that I already had, because it was such short notice and it was the only thing they would allow me to do.

Emilia ran her hands over the soft material, and as I approached her, she turned to me, tears brimming her eyes.

Thank you. Thank you so much,she signed.

We embraced each other and stood there for a few moments until she moved toward the vanity. She grabbed the brush and waited until I sat down for her to brush through my hair.

As she combed through my knots, I asked, “Were you sent in here to keep me busy?”

She blushed and nodded. Thought so.

Everyone had been doing everything in their power to keep me away from the ballroom so I wouldn’t spoil the surprise. How grand could it be with three grown men and Emilia planning a ball when none of them had ever attended one?

Of course, it didn’t matter to me. They could put out a small spread of food and drink and I would be happy.

I kept quiet as Emilia worked my hair into an intricate pattern of braids and then sinched them with various pins. She picked up a small container filled with a red paste and placed some on my lips and cheek, rubbing them in until they brought some life to my face. I never wore rouge, but what she did only seemed to enhance my beauty.

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