I shook my head. “That was a mistake, and we both know it.” Last school year, my husband Stuart had been in a coma-like state after throwing himself into the middle of a demonic ritual to save my and Eric’s daughter, Allie, from being taken over by Lilith, a seriously dangerous demon who—at least for now—seemed to have disappeared back into the ether to lick her wounds. Hopefully, she’ll stay hidden under her covers for at least a century. God knows, I’ve had enough of her.
Stuart had been like that for months, but he’s come out of the coma now, albeit a bit different. Sure, he’s doing a stellar job as the school’s Bursar and top admin guy, but when he’s not working, he drifts. Sits in a room and stares at nothing. He responds when spoken to, but always with that half-second delay—like he has to come back from somewhere far away just to hear me.
I tell myself it’s because the prophetic visions take a huge toll on him, and I believe it. But I also worry about our marriage. Because despite being awake and healthy for months now, hehasn’t made a move to touch me and barely returns my kisses. I’ve called him out on it—and he admits it—but he says he’s in “a different place.” That it has nothing to do with me, and he’s “trying to get his head on straight.”
All of which breaks my heart. And which I never, ever, should have told Eric. We’d had one lapse—one—when I’d been certain Stuart would never come out of the coma. It had been warm and wonderful—and at the moment I very much regretted it. Mostly because Eric wants more.
And yeah, so do I.
But it’s not happening. It issonot happening.
“He’s still my husband,” I said, giving Eric’s chest a shove, but it was a pathetic effort. “The visions are hard on him. You have no idea what it’s like to have that kind of thing suddenly thrust on you.”
Eric laughed—actually laughed—and the sound vibrated through both our bodies, making me scurry to stand up.
“Katie. Sweetheart,” he said, rising, too. “I had a demon inside me for most of my life. I’m living in the body of another man. And I was pretty much controlled—and seduced—by one of the vilest demons to ever exist. Trust me when I say that I sympathize with Stuart. But that doesn’t mean I’m conceding his victory.”
I crossed my arms and stared him down. “He’s my husband. I think that makes him the winner by default.”
“I had that title first,” he said, taking a step closer.
“And maybe you’d still be cast in that part if you hadn’t kept so many damn secrets and, you know,died.”
He put a finger under my chin and tilted my head up so that I was forced to look him straight in the eye. “Fair enough,” he said. “But the competition isn’t over.”
“It is,” I shot back. “And so is tonight’s training.” I pressed my palms against his chest and shoved him backward.
Atop the cliff on the far side of the cemetery, the spooky old Greatwater Mansion—now the Forza West Academy—loomed over us, its smattering of lit windows giving it an eerie glow in the coastal fog.
“Kate.”
I shook my head. “No. This conversation is over. Stuart is my husband, and he’s literally going through hell. I’m not going to leave him.”
“Not even if you wanted to,” Eric said, and my stomach twisted from the truth buried in those words.
“Maybe we can find time to train again tomorrow before the new kids arrive,” I said. “Then we can pick it back up on a daily basis once they’re all settled in.”
After a forced semi-closure of the school following a harrowing—and educationally disruptive—demonic showdown, we were finally back in business, and the semester would officially start in just a few days.
“He isn’t, you know,” Eric said, his voice low.
“What are you talking about?”
“Stuart,” he said, the tone in his voice making me shiver. “He’s not your husband anymore. Hell, he’s not even Stuart Connor. Not really. And you know it, too. This world changed him. I know a bit about what that’s like.”
I shook my head. “He’s not you. No one experimented on him. He sacrificed himself for Allie.” I blinked back tears. “He doesn’t deserve what he got.”
“No,” Eric said gently, his hands resting on my shoulders. “He doesn’t. And what he did for our daughter wins him my unwavering respect. Respect,” he repeats. “But not you. I will fight for you, Kate,” he added, his voice low. His fingertips brushed a stray lock of hair away from my eyes, and I shivered under the touch.
“It was different before,” I said, thinking about that one time I’d given in to desire, and how right it had felt to be in bed with him again. “We didn’t think he would ever come out of the coma.”
“But we both wanted it.” He met my eyes. “We both still do.”
“Yes,” I admitted because he already knew the answer. “But he needs me.”
“Does he? I don’t know. But I know I do.”
“Stuart didn’t sign up for any of this. He didn’t grow up in Forza. He wasn’t trained. He was just a normal guy who married a woman with a really complicated secret past, and now he’s having prophetic episodes that leave him drained and confused and?—”
