Page 7 of Toward Immortal Ruin

“Several weeks ago—but I only pulled her information today.”

Nodding, Nero tried to wrap his head around the fact that his mate was sharing the same planet as he was. It was overwhelming in the sweetest sense, and his emotions were running wild.

“Sovereign?”

“Yes?”

“You need to close down your clan bonds,” she said softly.

Nero inwardly cursed. The churning need for action and the uncertainty he felt would’ve translated through to his clansmen. Almost immediately, he placed a psychic restriction on the two-way transfer of emotions and turned it into a one-way valve that kept his mostly contained.

None of his clansmen needed to know about his fated mate until he’d truly met her himself.

“That’s hers.”

Key pointed to the book on the coffee table. Reverently, he picked it up and felt a wave of pride for Eden’s achievement. The hardbound tome was titledGothic Fiction in the 19th Century, A Study in Fear and Haunting.He would happily spend the entire night reading it cover to cover.

“Her lecture tomorrow is on the evolution of vampires in popular fiction,” Key said smugly. “I honestly thought about going myself, but I won’t steal your sunshine. Please, take notes and report back.”

He gave her a sarcastic salute.

“Also,” she added, “one word: Blade.”

Despite the massive amount of paperwork still sitting on his desk, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to his office. After the world’s quickest shower to clean off the blood and muck, he started on the manilla folder’s worth of information, then researched his mate online for several hours. When he was satisfied that learning any more about Eden Hawthorne would launch him into stalker territory, he settled down in a comfortable chair and opened her book. He’d find out the rest directly from the source.

***

Anxiety was skittering beneath Nero’s skin. In the past, he’d always been the calming influence. Today, he experienced the stress firsthand, and it seemed like centuries worth of nerves had decided to manifest all at once. It was an odd sensation he’d barely begun to grasp. All at once, he wished his abilities extended to his own mind.

He’d arrived forty-three minutes before her speaking engagement and found himself flipping through her book once more. The subject was fascinating, for all that he had livedthrough the period she was studying. Reading through Eden’s academic take on how it had been remembered by historians and literary scholars was both beguiling and entertaining.

It’d been ages since he’d taken the time to read for pleasure and truly digest the content. Her book was a captivating read. While the subject matter was complex, her writing translated the ideas with simplicity and without clunky jargon. He paid close attention to every word, but she had made it easy to follow. He’d learned things about Gothic fiction he’d never contemplated before.

Having something to concentrate on also helped take his mind off meeting her again. There was so much riding on their time together, and he couldn’t afford to be misconstrued as too forward, nor come off as aloof.

About twenty minutes before the start, the seats began to fill up. His fingers drummed on the hardcover of her book, but there was no rhythm to it—just nervousness. Knowing that Eden Hawthorne was going to be in the same building as he was made him a ball of nerves.

The moment the clock struck one, Eden appeared onstage. His heart flipped. He hoped that she couldn’t see him beaming like a fool in the middle rows. He hadn’t wanted to be too close and distract her, otherwise he would have been front and center.

Looking up, she gazed out over the audience and started speaking. “Nosferatu, Dracula, Lestat.” She paused. “Edward Cullen.

“Though there are differing accounts of when vampires first appeared in fiction, they’ve all been united by one constant: the need to drink blood. This single, uniting factor is why we both villainize and romanticize these powerful immortal beings.

“Over the last few decades, vampire fiction has exploded. Other than the four I mentioned, name me a vampire from popular fiction.”

Nero’s answer was the first. “Blade.”

When Eden zeroed in on him, her smile was immediate. Even as the other names sounded, she held eye contact, and it seemed like a moment all to themselves.

“Bill Compton.”

“Angel and Spike.”

“Damon Salvatore.”

“All of these are examples of vampires who’ve been romanticized,” she replied. “Now, give me the names of vampires who’ve been demonized or villainized.”

The crowd responded with even greater enthusiasm the second time around, Eden skillfully transitioned into her lecture. Nero couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so enraptured by the speaker that he forgot to check in with his lieutenants or do a psychic sweep of the surrounding area.

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