Something shifts in his expression and gives way to something softer. Something almost human.
“Alright,” he says. “But I reserve the right to be broody and protective from a horizontal position.”
“Deal.”
We change—him with supernatural speed that still makes me blink, me with significantly more struggle because this dress has over twenty hidden buttons. By the time I emerge from the bathroom in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, he’s already in bed, propped against the headboard, watching the door like a guardian waiting for his charge.
I climb in beside him. He lifts his arm, and I tuck myself against his side, my head on his shoulder, my hand over his chest where his heart beats its slow, ancient rhythm.
“Your heart,” I murmur. “It’s so slow.”
“About twenty beats per minute. One every three seconds.”
“Does it ever speed up?”
“Rarely.” His hand traces patterns on my back. “Strong emotions can cause a slight increase. Fear. Rage.” A pause. “Love.”
“Is it faster now?”
He hesitates. Then: “Yes.”
I smile as I snuggle with him. “Good.”
The silence settles around us, comfortable and warm despite the coolness of his skin. Outside, the waves continue their endless rhythm. Somewhere in this resort, Damien is planning something terrible for tomorrow.
But tonight, I’m in the arms of a man who has loved and lost for centuries and somehow chose to love again. Chose me.
“Julian?” I whisper.
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens tomorrow—I’m glad it was you. The mysterious billionaire I hired to fake being my boyfriend. I’m glad it was you.”
His arms tighten around me. “So am I.” A kiss to the top of my head. “So am I.”
I fall asleep to the sound of his slow heartbeat, counting each precious beat like a lullaby.
CHAPTER 28
JULIAN
Poppy sleeps.
I watch her breathe in the darkness of our suite, her hand still resting on my chest where it fell hours ago. Her fingers curl slightly with each exhale, as if she’s holding onto something even in sleep. Me, perhaps. The idea of me. Or the version of myself I’m trying to become for her.
For a moment—just this moment—everything is quiet. No threats. No century-old vendettas. Just this woman who looked at a monster and saw a man.
My phone vibrates against the nightstand. I reach for it slowly, careful not to disturb her.
MARCUS: Council response came through. LaChance reviewed the audio from Poppy’s poolside conversation.
I type one-handed, keeping my other arm around Poppy.
ME: And?
MARCUS: They’ve approved any course of action to neutralize the threat. Full authority. No restrictions.
The words settle into me like something clicking into place. After decades of bureaucratic caution, after being told that Damien’s surveillance wasn’t a violation, that humans weren’t protected—now, finally, the Council has seen what I’ve always known.
