Page 43 of Embers of Fate
A glimmer of hope blooms in my chest, a tiny flame that refuses to be extinguished. I try to tamp it down, to keep my expectations in check, but I can’t fight the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this is the chance I’ve been waiting for.
The chance to see Nik again, to look into his eyes and make him understand how wrong he was to push me away, to shut me out of his life.
I love him, all of him, dragon and man alike. And I’ll be damned if I let him go without a fight.
“Gods, Mila! You’re wonderful!” I exclaim, leaping to my feet, a renewed sense of purpose coursing through my veins. “I’ll see Nik tonight!”
I swipe at my tears with the back of my hand, smearing black mascara across my skin. But I don’t care. Nothing matters but the possibility of being near him again, of feeling the warmth of his presence and the touch of his hand.
“Not looking like this, you’re not,” Mila teases, plucking the holly wreath from the floor and placing it on my head like a crown. “Come on. I’ll help you get ready.”
I sniff, feeling the heat of a blush rising in my cheeks. “You’re right. I must look dreadful. I gotta look fabulous for my dragon...”
Mila starts, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Your...dragon?”
My mouth goes slack, panic flaring in my chest. “Uh... That’s what I call him,” I amend quickly, scrambling for an explanation. “He calls me his Little Bear.”
A smile tugs at my lips, the memory of Nik’s endearment warming me from the inside out.
“Aw! That’s so sweet!” Mila coos, pressing a hand to her heart.
“Yeah.” I give her a brief smile, relief washing over me. That was close. Too close.
If my clan knew the truth about Nik, about the beast that lies beneath his skin... they would go ballistic. And Gavriil... gods, I don’t even want to think about how he would react. It would be a bloodbath, a war between our families that would tear the supernatural world apart.
But as Mila tugs me towards my closet, chattering excitedly about dresses and hairstyles, I push those thoughts aside.
Tonight, none of that matters. All that exists is the hope burning in my chest, the love that refuses to be denied.
Tonight, I’ll see my dragon again. And one way or another, I’ll make him see the truth.
That we belong together, now and always.
No matter what the world throws our way.
27
SAM
When the knock on my door came, I opened it to find a stylist waiting in the hallway, a garment bag draped over her arm. It came as no surprise that Gavriil had already arranged everything concerning my attire for the evening, from the gown itself to the hair and makeup. My brother has always been the attentive type, some might say a tad controlling. As the Ursa King’s sister, he would expect nothing less than perfection from me at the Deveraux’s dinner party.
The thought makes me grin with a hint of rebellious pride as I walk through the manor’s threshold, into the witches’ lair. If only they knew the truth about the slob I really am.
The splendor of our home in Saint Petersburg pales in comparison to Deveraux Manor, and that’s saying something. With its imposing marble halls, wide spaces, and exquisite decorations, this place rivals any palace I’ve ever seen.
It’s the second time this house has gathered Alexeevs, Deverauxs, and Drakens under one roof. The seance went well enough, if bywellyou mean no bloodshed. But I can’t shake the feeling of walking on eggshells. The sense that the peace between our families is more fragile than ever.
I pause at the terrace’s threshold, marveling at the magical display before me. Amber string lights tangle in the trees, their glow casting a warm, inviting light over the scene. Votive candles line the staircase leading down to the lawn, where a high white tent stands in the middle of the courtyard, a dozen crystal chandeliers hanging from its ceiling.
The music is soft and lulling, drawing me in. I step closer to the balustrade, my eyes sweeping over the crowd of gorgeous warlocks and witches below. And there, skulking in the shadows, is a vampire. Dristan, I remember from the seance. He’s a charming one, an outcast in our world. Maybe I should go say hi...
“Samara,” a familiar voice calls out, interrupting my musings.
I turn, a smile blooming on my lips as I see my brother striding towards me. “Vlad!” I exclaim, surprised and delighted by his presence. “You’re here, in Paris!”
Volodya opens his arms, and I take a moment to appreciate his impeccable tux, the white gold cufflinks, the bespoke shoes that probably cost more than most people make in a month. He looks like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine.
I all but launch myself into Vlad’s waiting arms, desperate for the comfort and familiarity of his embrace. As his strong arms wrap around me, enveloping me in a cocoon of safety and love, I feel some of the tension drain from my body, the knots of anxiety and loneliness that have taken up residence in my chest loosening just a fraction.
