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The desert and its barren landscape had vanished. They were on a rocky beach with the familiar cerulean waters of the Mediterranean lapping at the sand a few feet away. Behind her were rocky cliffs with the distant lights from the village glittering in the dark.
“Why?” she choked out. Her hand rubbed at her chest as if that could make the ache go away.
The moon reflected in Felix’s dark, unreadable gaze. “I know you miss home. I hope this will do for now.”
Home.
When she’d left with Felix, she never thought she’d be able to return. Of course, back then, she hadn’t understood what immortality meant.
Her brother was gone. Her family was most likely gone. There was no one left to stop her from returning to her birthplace.
She looked around her again and expanded her senses. There was no break in the spell, nothing that said she wasn’t back in Italy other than her knowledge. If she waded into the water, would it feel cold on her skin like her memories?
“It must’ve cost you a fortune,” she said a few seconds later. “A spell like this.”
At least, the Haven from four centuries ago wouldn’t even be able to afford something like this. Storing a spell was one of the more difficult magical enchantments. Only a few specialized witches did it. It was easier for a witch to cast a spell than to store it in an object for later use. It took time and skill and patience and experience.
For a large scale and almost perfect illusion spell like this, she couldn’t imagine how much it would’ve cost him.
“It’s worth it.”
Desire, her constant companion, heated her blood as Felix’s fingers brushed her neck. Her mind transported to centuries ago, when they’d made plans for the future on a beach like this one, when she’d been nothing but a clueless girl.
“No.”
She leaped away from him. Frigid sea waters lapped at her ankles. Goosebumps littered her arms. That was one question answered.
Felix stood slowly, and Gabby reminded herself he had no power over her.
Not anymore.
It was harder than it should be when the past surrounded her.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said, resigned.
“Then why did you bring me here?”
He sighed. “This is a mistake. I didn’t mean to make you vulnerable.”
He pulled what looked like a metal brooch from his pockets and whispered a short Latin phrase. Magic flared in the air, short bursts of glitter dust appeared, then it was all gone. No more cool, wet breeze. No more sound of the waves or specks of salty water spraying on her skin.
The chilly night air of the desert settled over her like a scratchy blanket. Its dryness, the scent of dust, was all wrong. The return to the real world hurt almost as much as when the spell had been cast.
She missed home with the intensity of a new vampire’s thirst for blood. Even though she’d spent more of her life in the Americas, Italy would always be her home.
Felix’s expression softened. “I’m sorry.” When he strode up to her, Gabby forced herself to stay in place and meet his green gaze, despite the tenderness in them that made her want to run screaming the other way. His melancholy smile tugged on the part of her soul she’d suppressed for centuries. “I thought this would make you feel better, but it seems I don’t know you after all.”
She was at a loss for words at his sorrow. Then his words sank in. How much did she know about him? He was born in Venice, the first son from a wealthy and privileged merchant family. His sire had fallen in love with him and turned him, even though he hadn’t been her mate. After the Hunters killed her, he’d spent the next few centuries taking over House Eden and most of Eastern Europe while warring with the Hunters.
That was what had brought him to her family’s doorstep.
More important than his past, she knew him. His courage, his tenacity, his over-protectiveness, not just for her, but for everyone under his care.
He fought for what he believed was right. He’d killed Eden’s previous head when the vampire had fallen to bloodlust and risked turning all of Eden’s vampires into his pawns in his quest to torture, maim, and enslave humans.
He’d spared her brother, Armando, because she’d asked him, even though Armando had killed her.
What kind of strength did it take to spare your mortal enemy? When that enemy had taken the only meaningful thing in your life?
