He stares at me.
"And my father? How…how do you know all this?"
Danica
77
"Do you remember the wall at the Valley of Ancients?" Rhyland asks, his voice low and intense, his eyes searching mine for understanding.
I nod, my mind flashing back to that moment we traveled to the Amazon rainforest, the awe and terror I felt as those paintings came to life before our eyes, telling a beautiful and horrifying story. "Yes, I remember," my fingers tightening on his shoulders. "It was like watching history unfold, like being transported back in time."
Rhyland's hands tighten on my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh as if trying to anchor himself to the present. "When I saw what Elysium did and what I felt that day when I knew I was going to die…I just put two and two together," his voice rough with emotion. "The same day I died was the same fucking day the realms were sealed off. I felt it, Angel. The Darkness was closing in, and then, all of a sudden, it just disappeared. Just like what we saw on that wall."
His voice is raw, almost tragic. "The Darkness retreated, and I felt this... this shift, like the world had been tilted on its axis. And now I know why. It was because your father had closed the realms and had sealed away the evil that threatened to consume us all."
I frown. My mind races as I process this revelation. "But what does it mean?" I whisper. "Why would dying and your turning be connected to the sealing of the realms? What purpose could it serve?"
Rhyland shrugs, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "No fucking clue, baby. It could be a coincidence, or it could be something more. All I know is that day is burned into my fucked up brain like a brand. I remember every goddamn second, every sensation, every emotion. So when Calypso mentioned how long she'd been cursed, it just…threw me for a loop."
He pulls me closer, his hands trailing down to cup my ass, his touch a searing heat even through the thin fabric of my shorts. It's a desperate, needy gesture as if he's trying to lose himself in my body, in the comfort of our connection.
I can only imagine the horrors Rhyland must have faced on that fateful day, the pain and loss he endured as his world was ripped apart at the seams. My heart aches for him, for the centuries of torment and confusion he's had to carry on his broad shoulders.
Without thinking, I lean in and capture his lips in a soft, tender kiss, pouring every ounce of my love and devotion into the simple gesture. "I'm so sorry, Rhy," I murmur against his mouth, my fingers threading through his hair in a soothing caress. "I can't even begin to imagine what you went through, what you've been carrying with you all these years."
Rhyland leans into my touch, his eyes slipping closed as he takes a shuddering breath. "It's a mind-fuck, that's for sure," he admits. "But in a way, it's also a relief. Because now I know that it wasn't random, that my turning served a purpose, even if I don't fully understand it yet—It brought me to you."
The full extent of Rhyland's transformation into a vampire remains a mystery to me. The details of his maker and the ordeal he endured during his change are shrouded in darkness. But given the haunted look in his eyes whenever the subject arises, I can only imagine it was a hellish experience—certainly not something he'd celebrate or reminisce about fondly.
For the entirety of his undead existence, Rhyland has been a lone wolf, navigating the centuries without companionship or genuine connection. The thought of him wandering through the ages, isolated and burdened by his immortality, sends a pang of sorrow through my chest. It's a profound and enduring loneliness that makes my heart ache for him.
I press my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the scant space between us. "I will always be here for you, Rhyland," I vow fiercely, my heart swelling with the force of my conviction. "Through the good times and the bad, through the light and the shadows, you're not alone anymore, and you never will be again. I promise you that."
Rhyland's answering growl is low and possessive, his lips claiming mine in a bruising kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. "Fuck, woman, the things you sayand do to me," he rasps, his hands kneading my flesh with a desperate urgency. "I love you so goddamn much. It scares the shit out of me sometimes."
I can't help but smile against his lips, my heart soaring with the knowledge that this beautiful, broken, utterly incredible man is mine, now and forever. "I love you too," I whisper, my voice fierce with the depth of my devotion. "So, so much…it almost hurts how much—more than anything in this world or any other. And together, we're going to—"
"Ohh, for fuck's sake! Really? I give you two the honeymoon suite, and you're in here christening my kitchen island like a pair of horny teenagers," Lucian whines as he strolls in. "I mean, I'm all for a good kitchen kink, but at least put a sock on the door or something. A man needs warning before he walks in on a live porno."
Rhyland drops his head to my chest, a low groan of annoyance rumbling through him. "We're not fucking, youass," he grumbles, pulling back and helping me hop off the counter. I settle back into my seat, sipping my coffee and trying to hide my grin behind the mug.
This is the first time I've ever seen Lucian without a shirt, and the view is not half bad. He stands in low-slung basketball shorts that ride dangerously low on his hips, making that V-shape point straight to his groin. His physique is something else—muscled and trim, a leaner but equally jaw-dropping contrast to Rhyland's hulk-like build.
He's sporting a few tattoos on his chest, with one that snakes around his torso. Lucian's golden hair is now cut shorter, and he's been growing some facial hair, giving him a slightly older, more rugged vibe. And those big, chocolate-brown puppy dog eyes of his? They're soft, relaxed, and unmistakably happy.
"Could've fooled me, big guy," Lucian quips as he rummages through the cupboards. "From where I stood, you two were about to reenact that scene fromFifty Shades. You know, the one with the ice cream?"
My cheeks flush at the mental image. "Jesus, Lucian, not everything is about sex, you know." I huff, trying to regain my composure.
Lucian gasps. "Lies and slander! In my world, everything is about sex. It's the glue that holds the universe together, the cosmic lube that keeps the gears of reality turning."
He rummages through the cupboards, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Speaking of lube, where's my stash of edible body paint? I could've sworn I left it next to the quinoa and kale chips."
I nearly choke on my coffee, my eyes watering as I struggle to contain my laughter. "My God, Lucian, how do you even function in polite society?"
He grins. "Bold of you to assume I do, sweet cheeks. Polite society is for chumps and people who don't know how to have a good time."
Rhyland rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where's Seraphina?" clearly trying to steer the conversation away from Lucian's debauchery.
