"When you think about what Vivienne said," I tell her, "remember this too: whatever you were meant to be, whatever Valentina intended, it doesn't change what you've become. What you are to me."
"And what's that?"
I tell her the truth.
"Essential."
She's still for a moment. Then she crosses back to me, rises on her toes, and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Soft. Brief. A promise.
"Goodnight, Maximus."
"Goodnight, Celeste."
She leaves. The door closes behind her with a soft click.
I stand alone in my study, surrounded by scattered papers and the lingering scent of her, and I try to remember the last time I felt this frustrated.
I move to the window, pushing aside the heavy curtain to look out at the grounds. The moon has shifted position, casting different shadows across the gardens. Somewhere out there, Konstantin is planning his next move. The other lords are weighing their options.
And none of it matters as much as it should.
My lips still feel the pressure of her kiss. My skin still remembers the path of her fingers. I haven't been this aroused and this frustrated in centuries.
But I meant what I said. When I finally have her, I want it to be clear. Uncomplicated by doubts and poison and the machinations of vampires who've been playing games since before she was born.
I want her to choose me. Really choose me. Not because she was designed to, not because she's running from fear, but because she wants to. Because she sees what I am and wants me anyway.
The ring box on my desk catches my eye. I pick it up, turn it over in my hands. A small leather box that held a ring for centuries. My father's ring. His father's before him. Generations of Marchetti men who lived and died and never imagined their legacy would end up around the neck of a vampire in twenty-first-century Atlanta.
Empty now because I gave it to a woman I've known for approximately two weeks.
A woman I'm falling in love with anyway.
I set the box back on the desk. Pour myself another whiskey, though I don't drink it. Just hold the glass, feel the weight of it, the coolness against my palm.
I don't know what Valentina intended. But I know this: whatever Celeste was meant to be, she's chosen to be something else. She's chosen to stand beside me. To fight with me. To trust me with her fear and her uncertainty and her hope.
I can do no less.
I set down the glass, untouched, and move toward the door. Dawn is still hours away. There's work to be done. Security reports to review, strategies to refine, a war to plan. And a cold shower to take, because there's no way I'm going to be able to concentrate on any of it in this state.
But as I walk through the quiet corridors of my compound, Ifind myself pausing outside her door. Listening. I can hear her moving inside, the soft pad of footsteps, the rustle of fabric. She's not sleeping either.
I raise my hand to knock. Hesitate. Lower it again.
Later. I promised her later.
I intend to keep that promise.
I walk away, heading for my quarters. Part of me is already counting the hours until I can stop waiting and start living.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Iwake with my hand already at my chest.
The ring is cool from resting against my skin all day.
