Despite my constant efforts to compensate with hypervigilance and outworking those around me, it's never beenenough. And lately, it seems to be getting me nowhere but deeper into this pit of self-doubt.
Xander thinks you’re enough,my brain spits back.
But Xander doesn’t know his own mind. He says he does, but I don’t believe him.
“Wait,” Vivien held up her hands as if to slow us all down. “Is all this uncertainty and fear coming up because of the immortal ball?” She tapped her lower lip, her hair still a wild mess. “Ball. Balls. It is so weird to say, much less go to one.”
For being on the unhinged side, my friend was oddly perceptive. I reached down to re-lace one of my boots that was already perfectly tied.
“Oh, my sweet baby lambs,” Vivien shot to her feet. “I’m right!” She did a little dance, shaking her hips.
I rolled my eyes and walked to the opposite side of the room, pretending to be interested in a painting of elegant women in a boat along a flower filled river.
I tried to keep my tone light. “This event is supposed to be a homecoming for Xander. He needs to socially rejoin his kind. He can take possession of one of the hotels, wear a sleek veneer, play twisted games out of sheer boredom, and indulge in ambrosia-fueled orgies.”
Sure, Xander said he didn’t want to rejoin them, but he couldn’t put off going back to where he belonged for long.
A pair of hands found my shoulders and turned me around. Vivien's emerald eyes bore into mine, her expression serious and sincere. “Xander isnotlike the others. I’ve met enough of these a-holes to know.”
“A-hem,” Timothy said loudly and with great offense.
“You don’t count, Timmy,” she casually shot over her shoulder. Vivien picked my hand up. “It’s okay to be scared. Letting someone in, especially someone like Xander, is terrifying. But sometimes, it’s the broken souls who love thefiercest. Maybe you’re what he needs... and perhaps he’s the messiness, the passion you didn’t know you were missing.”
I lifted my gaze, meeting Vivien’s. Inside, I was torn between the safety of my emotional barriers and the terrifying yet enticing prospect of a love that could easily destroy me.
Deep down, I knew my reluctance was about more than just Xander. It was about a lifetime of believing I didn't deserve happiness, not after what happened to my… dog, not after losing my husband, and certainly not after unleashing chaos on the world from the blade. How could I allow myself to enjoy anything when I was responsible for so much pain?
The weight of my past, the guilt—it was a secret burden I carried, always reminding me why I couldn't just relax and be happy. Happiness was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not when every moment of joy felt like a betrayal of the memories of those I'd lost. And now with Xander, it felt like walking towards something I had long denied myself—a chance at love, at happiness, which… deep down, I feared I might never truly deserve.
Unaware how intensely I was processing her suggestion, Vivien straightened, her fingers tightening around my shoulders. “But yes, this event is going to be wall to wall with bloodthirsty sycophants who will treat you like the gunk between their toes. And since Xander won’t be there to distract the masses with his glorious return, we had better arm you.”
“She’s right,” another soft lilting voice added. Bianca strode into the room.
The goddess might have invited me here, but I hadn’t forgotten that she’d begged me to stay away from Xander when I killed him nightly for weeks on end. She knew something terrible would come from it.
But I hadn’t listened.
And we were all in danger now.
Chapter 16
The Badass
Bianca’s blonde hair was arranged in perfect curls. The Oracle’s dress was a dreamy, white, form fitting number that showed off her curves.
If only I had believed her predictions, it might have stopped me from falling for Xander, from bringing him back, from unleashing all the evil from the blade.
Or it might not have.
Nerves and guilt had me rolling my shoulders back and straightening my spine in the goddess’s presence. She had every right to despise me, and I deserved it.
Instead of voicing that, I said, “I’m not sure how the immortals will feel about me casually toting around the blade known as the ‘god killer’ at the party.”
“There is more to me than just killing,” Bob sniffed haughtily.
The maid from earlier rushed in and presented me with Bob, still in his sheath. I slid him out enough to see gleaming steel.
“Oh my gods, Miranda. I think I am in love. The blacksmith, her hands. I’ve never felt so cherished. The way she washed my blade.”
