Page 79 of Little Mate
“Just look, my king. Please.”
I nod and look down, my finger opening the front flap, and then I freeze. Every muscle in my body locks down and my dead heart thumps harshly inside my chest. A part of me that’s been gone for so long—emotions I’ve buried deep—they all hit me at once when her smiling face greets me on a 4x6 picture paperclipped to a bio/resume.
It’s her. My pretty girl after all these years.
By blood and pact, we’ve always been one.
The tears don’t fall, yet the pain of losing her all those years ago strikes me with a vengeful hatred, tearing me apart as if I’m watching the light fade from the gorgeous green eyes all over again. She bled out in my arms. Her last breath was against my chest.
However, none of it matters now.
Instead, I’m smiling. My body thrums with excitement and want, a thankful exhale rushing through my chest because she’s here once again. Meera’s promise, their sacred magic, and Thanatos’s word have gifted me the only thing that’s ever truly mattered.
And while my father did allow me to visit her spirit while in the land of fire before her rebirth, it was never enough.
I’ve waited for a hundred years to kiss her.
I’ve been patient since we identified her with certainty thirteen years ago; denying myself the privilege of so much as being close. I couldn’t interfere. This was her path back to me and I had to grit my teeth and allow it.
That all ends today.
“Her birthday is within the next month. We must prepare.”
Tero’s eyes narrow then and his top lip curls. “Elise might be a problem.”
“She won’t.” I won’t let her. My eyes shift to the Stygian blade on my wall, and I smirk, the enemy has risen, and I will take great pride in delivering the same treatment they gave my wife. A thousand cuts over.
I might have bided my time and played in the background, unable to interfere without breaking my end of the pact, but that doesn’t mean Gabriella is alone. Meera and Tero are never far, they provide what I directly can’t, and Elise is playing the part I need her to.
Veltross might be dead, but there are others who think like he did.
They’ve scattered like roaches. They’ve spread throughout the world, but for the last six months many have been congregating outside of Seattle.
Ignorant fools.
I know each move they make. I move the pieces in this game of chess to my amusement.
They will strike, and I will be there to end it all at once. No mercy. No one from the bloodline will remain untouched.
“Dial Elise for me and put her through. It’s time we hunt.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Picking up the phone on my desk, he does just that and then puts it on speakerphone. It rings a few times, no more than three, and then there’s heavy breathing on the other end meant to entice. As if she’s exerting herself.
“Hello,” Elise says, her tone breathy and exaggerated. “This is Elise Scott.”
Did she really think a change of name would be enough for me to forget? Imbecile. “Miss Scott, this is Theodore Astor with Astor Galleries. How are you today?”
“Mr. Astor!” Her high pitch makes Tero gag, and I bite back a chuckle. “So nice to hear from you. How can I help you?”
“This is about a Gabriella Moore.”
“Oh.” Less cheerful. A little acerbic.
“Yes, you sent me her portfolio and I must say, her work is exquisite.” My pretty girl has always been talented. “Her painting, a warrior’s death, is quite provocative and the kind of talent we like to acquire for a show. Does she have any openings for this fall?”
“I’d have to check her schedule, but I’m more than willing to meet and discuss a partnership?”
“I’ll have my assistant contact you with the details. His name is Tero. Please expect a call.”