Siljar offered her unnerving smile. “I must go.” She paused to bid Nefri a low bow. “Nefri. We are in your debt.”
Straightening, the tiny demon disappeared, leaving behind three vampires who were struggling to accept that they had actually survived.
“Someday . . .” Styx growled.
“Not now, Styx,” Santiago said in soft but startlingly commanding tones.
“But . . .” Styx turned to glare at Santiago, then seeming to catch some unspoken message, he slowly smiled. “Right. I’ll leave you to it.”
They watched in silence as the massive vampire left the ruined room in a less dramatic fashion than Siljar. Still, it wasn’t until they could sense the Anasso jogging away from the warehouse that Santiago grasped Nefri’s shoulders and gently turned her to meet his somber gaze.
His lips parted, but Nefri had been waiting from the moment she’d been released from control of the spirit to offer her apology.
Not that an “I’m sorry” actually made up for trying to kill your lover, she wryly admitted.
“Santiago,” she began, only to be outmaneuvered when Santiago placed his hand over her mouth.
“It’s over.”
She grasped his wrist to tug his hand away. “But I need to say I’m—”
“No.”
She arched a brow at his arrogant tone. “No?”
“From this point forward, the past is done,” he said, his eyes dark with a plea that tugged at her heart. “The only thing that matters is the future. Our future.”
She hesitated, desperately wanting to accept his offer.
How many years had she wasted with guilt and regret?
How long had she denied her emotions out of fear?
“You think that’s possible?”
His smile held an edge of sadness that spoke of his own loss. “We’ve both spent too long being haunted by events that neither of us could control.” He cupped her face in his hands, his touch tender. “I want a fresh start. Don’t we deserve it?”
She didn’t know if they deserved it.
Her past wasn’t entirely blameless. And the gods knew that Santiago was not an innocent.
But, deserving or not, her heart urged her to snatch at the happiness with both hands.
Well, after she’d tormented Santiago just a bit. He’d certainly done his share of tormenting over the past weeks.
“I’m not entirely certain,” she murmured.
His brows drew together, his struggle against his instinct to toss her over his shoulder and demand capitulation etched on his beautiful face.
Their combined arrogance and demand for control would make life together a delicious battle.
“Why?” he at last rasped.
She offered a faux pout. “You hit me on the head.”
“Ah.” His frustration melted to wry amusement. “Yes, I know.”
“That’s it?” she demanded. “‘Yes, I know’?”
He reached to curl her hand into a fist, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “You can hit me on the head if you want.”
She trembled, heat exploding through her veins to sear away the lingering chill from the spirit.
“As hard as your head is, it would probably break my hand,” she teased, moving forward to press against his lean body.
“True.” He smiled with a wicked promise that made her toes curl in anticipation. “Which means you might as well mate with me instead.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“It makes perfect sense to me.” He wrapped his arms around her, studying her upturned face with a possessive satisfaction. “You and I make perfect sense to me. Be my mate.”
Her heart soared, but there was one last hurdle they had to confront.
“What about my clan?” she reminded him softly. She’d already prepared to step down from being chief. Her people would always have her loyalty, but nothing was more important than Santiago. “Eventually I’ll be able to turn the leadership over to another. But for now—”
“I’m not asking you to choose between me and your clan, Nefri,” he interrupted her, frowning as if he was baffled she would even suggest the idea.
“But your life is here.”
Without warning he leaned down to kiss her with a blatant claim of ownership.
One she met with her own claim.
“My life is with you,” he said against her lips.
And that’s why she’d bonded with this vampire out of all the thousands and thousands of men she’d known over the centuries, she silently acknowledged, feeling as sappy as any overhormonal teenage girl.
He was arrogant and stubborn and possessive to the point of insanity, but he never tried to make her feel like she should apologize for her power.
He made her feel . . . proud.
Of herself. Of him. Of the partnership they were creating together.
“You could accept living beyond the Veil?” she pressed, needing him to be sure.
“Of course.” The wicked smile widened, giving a flash of fang. “I intend to open a fight club with a few fairies who know how to enjoy an orgy. . . .”
“Santiago,” she growled.