Ivy is Ivy, my Ivy, my wife.
I knew that from Marcus’s admission of such, but in my core, I didn’t accept that possibility as real, I didn’t believe it was truly possible. That is until her thoughts jumped into my head without me even trying to grab them. She wanted a sparkling champagne, and she put that thought in my head. I didn’t take it from her. That’s not normal before an actual mating takes place, but then, we have a bond that stretches beyond one lifetime.
“This looks amazing,” Ivy says as the waiter leaves us alone again. “The macaroni and cheese especially.”
I laugh. “Most people are focused on the steak.”
“Well, that, too,” she agrees, “but I’m a bit of a mac fanatic.”
“Try it,” I encourage. “Everything is good here.”
Her eyes light and she scoops mac from the family portion-sized bowl between us onto her plate. Next comes the potatoes. Once our plates are loaded, we dig in. Ivy is quick to dig into the mac and sigh. “My God,” she murmurs. “It’s so good.” She repeats that reaction to everything she tastes.
And suddenly, I take back what I thought earlier about food and sunlight making vampires too human for our own good. If magic, specifically the magic of the witches in the Coven of Rain, hadn’t given me back the ability to eat, I couldn’t enjoy food with Ivy right now. We couldn’t enjoy food together in the future. I couldn’t go out in the sunlight and protect her should she need protection.
“Tell me about your books,” I say.
“You haven’t read them,” she realizes and adds a teasing, “Shame on you.”
“Yes,” I say. “Shame on me. I’ll remedy that.”
“Please don’t,” she replies. “People think they know me through my books. They don’t. My characters are not based on me.”
“None of them?”
“None of them. I don’t know how they become their own people in my head, but they do, and those people think, do, and say things that are not related to my own reactions. They’re not even based on people I know or have met.”
“Maybe they’re people you knew in another lifetime,” I suggest.
“Do you believe in that?” she asks. “Reincarnation?”
“I do,” I say. “Do you?”
“Why?” she asks.
Because you’re sitting here, I think. “Call it a gut feeling. You didn’t answer me. Do you?”
“I read a book once about past lives,” she says as we finish up our meal. “It was pretty convincing.”
We chat about the book over dessert and there is no doubt I feel more human right now than I have in a hundred years. But I’m not human and she is. She can die. She will die if my enemies discover she is mine and she is human. I have to turn her or walk away from her. And I won’t make the decision for her. I love her. I have always loved her. But to her, I’m a stranger.
When dinner is over, the time has come for me to decide if I can be with Ivy and not drink from her. The answer is no. I can’t. But it’s not going to be easy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eli
I charge the bill to my account and Ivy is quick to show her appreciation. “Thank you,” she says. “Maybe I can take you out next?”
“Or,” I say tightly, “I can take you out again. I’m old-fashioned, Ivy, unapologetically so.”
The truth is that her offer bites, no pun intended. She is still the woman I swore to honor, love, cherish, and yes, protect. I failed her in every way.
And while I know she has money, so do I. Lots of money. It’s part of becoming a warden. You’re given a dowry large enough to support you in comfort. All in exchange for eternal service and a willingness to die for a greater cause: peace across all forms of life. Because we can die. Not easily, but it’s possible. We’re not as fragile as humans. As Ivy is right now.
I stand and offer her my hand. She wets her lips and hunger claws at me. My damn cock twitches while my gums tingle. We’re in a small quiet corner of our own, and on a weeknight we’re out of the view of prying eyes. Therefore, I don’t hold back. The minute she presses her palm to mine, I pull her to her feet and walk her into me, my hand on her lower back, molding her closer. “It’s about what you want, Ivy.”
“What about what you want?” she asks softly.
“That’s not what’s important.”
“And if I disagree?”
“It doesn’t change my answer.”
“I feel like I don’t understand the undertones of this conversation,” she says, her fingers curling on my chest. “But I want to.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for with me, Ivy.”
“Warning me away already?”
“It’s not that simple,” I say.
“I’m back to feeling like we’re having a conversation I don’t understand.” She doesn’t give me time to reply. “Walk me to my room, Eli, and don’t leave this time.”