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“Quite comforting because I was beginning to think I was losing my grip. It’s like I can’t bear to be away from her for no good reason. I left to get compelled humans and do some business for a couple of hours, but I was distracted the whole time I was gone.” I can think of nothing but her. I haven’t been so single-minded since I was human.
“It will be easier, especially the more you force it. I know it goes against your nature to leave the side of someone precious to you, but do try a little. She’s tougher than she looks.” He smiles broadly now. My beloved has warmed him over effortlessly, it would seem.
“I’m glad you approve.”
“Aye, and when this mess with your brother is finished, we will give her a proper welcome. She may not have had the pomp and circumstance we usually turn humans with, but we can throw her one hell of a party.” Leland rises from his chair, I follow suit, and he pulls me into a fatherly hug. “Congratulations, my boy. She’s exquisite and seems perfect for you.”
I return the embrace, and as we pull apart, I feel at peace.
My family is thriving.
Wren is not waiting for me on the couch where I last saw her. Sensing sunrise is only an hour away, I make my way to our room, running into Rolando on the landing. “Perfect timing,” I clap him on the shoulder. “Remember your uncle? The sadistic one?”
His expression darkens.
He remembers.
I try not to think about the bodies again.
There were children.
“He’s in town tomorrow, and Leland intends to put a stop to him at long last. Take what you need from the armory, ensure Leland has something that can fire many bullets quickly, and watch his back.”
“Of course.” Rolando is just as loyal as I am. I trust no one more than him to do this for me. “When are we leaving?”
“Just before sunset tomorrow. Get some rest, and don’t forget to eat before you massacre the miserable lot of them.”
Rolando snorts. “Yes, Dad, I’ll remember to eat my breakfast, promise.” Laughing, he clamors downstairs, likely heading to see what sort of weaponry they will need and get the specifics from Leland before hunkering down for the day.
Opening the door to our room, I see Wren stretched on the bed, eyes closed. She looks peaceful and relaxed. When she had been gone with Charlee the night she got her memories back, I made her a sculpture. One I haven’t yet revealed to her. I didn’t want to bring it up that night, because she had a lot more on her mind than a little trinket from me could help with. I can tell it still distresses her greatly.
Though I can’t deny my selfish desire to give her my present. Now that she’s had success in feeding, her memories are returned, and our bond is acknowledged and strong, I feel like it is finally time.
Sliding open the middle drawer of my dresser, I reach into the back where my small gift is tucked and hidden. It has been carefully not thought of and locked inside my mind in a place Wren wouldn’t find it. I haven’t wrapped it, having only completed my project shortly before they’d arrived back home.
Taking the sculpture in hand now, I set it silently on the bedside table next to Wren. Sliding behind her so she would have a clear view, I gently stroke her arm, plant a soft kiss on her shoulder, and breathe in her luscious scent.
Turning her head and opening her eyes, a smile reserved just for me crosses her beautiful lips. “There you are,” she whispers to me. I lean over and kiss her. While many of our kisses are full of heat, passion, and a yearning for one another, we have finally reached a point that allows us to share softer moments—full of sweetness and the promise of something solid and lasting.
“Here I am,” I stroke the side of her face with my thumb. “I have a present for you, little bird.”
Confusion settles on her face. “A present?”
“You created for me, so it’s only right I give you something I created for you.” I point beyond her head. She turns and follows the path, eyes settling on the little sculpture.
Bronze is a complex material to work with, but the only one that seemed right when I created the tiny wren settled on a branch—poised in such a way that it stood by itself, perfectly balanced. A quiet gasp escapes my beloved as she reaches for my work. “It’s a wren.”
“A bit on the nose, I know, but I wanted you to be represented among my other creatures,” I gesture to all of the sculptures she once admired when she arrived.
“Oz, she’s lovely,” I can hear her voice thick with emotion as she gingerly takes my work in her hands. I watch intently as she sits up and examines every angle of her gift, turning it in the light.
“I am glad you approve, my dear.” Unable to help myself from grinning, I welcomed the sight of her amazement. The way the light dances in her eyes. Casting in bronze isn’t easy, but having vampire senses certainly helps. It is a very delicate material once it’s been heated in my forge. The risk of melting is high if it gets too hot. It could break entirely as I hammer, incredibly brittle. Though it is sturdy once it cools and forms into the shape my hands instruct it to take.
My Wren is strong.
It is something that reminds me of her, how delicate and fragile she can be, but only beneath my hands. Reminds me that when she is independent of me, she can stand firm on her own.
Selecting the perfect spot for her gift, on a table near the windows, Wren hurries back to the bed, pushing me against the mattress and tangling her legs in mine. “Thank you,” she whispers, peppering my face with her sweet kisses.
