“We’ll discuss the cuff tomorrow,” Viola muttered as she stormed across the palace grounds. A lush garden had come alive almost overnight, just like the oasis. Grass, trees and a multitude of flowers had sprouted below her bedroom balcony. Insects and a few small animals had shown up too. They must have been here all along, seemingly as dead as everything else.
For the first time, those insects and animals darted from her. Sensed the danger of her temper, did they?
Days had passed since the arrival of McCadden and Farrow, but Viola and Brochan hadn’t discussed anything. Not even their rainy interlude, when he’d shocked and thrilled her with his reverent exploration of her body. Or the fact that he’d called her “kitten,” a nickname that had made her heart flutter.
Viola’s patience had worn thin. Did he not realize how important she was to him? To the entire realm? How important it was to keep her happy? This incomparable, bloom-scented air would fade with a single command from her. The world sought to please her. Where was her thanks? Her appreciation?
Something needed to be done. Soon. Unfortunately for Brochan, there was no better doer than Viola. They would be reopening the discussion about the cuff today. Along with the Forsaken they planned to kill and the fact that Brochan hadn’t adored her for an hour a day, as agreed.
She whirled around and raced toward the palace, more than ready to confront him.
He’s embarrassed by his attraction to you and hopes to keep your arrangement a secret.
Her step slowed, tremors nearly buckling her knees. Was Narcissism correct? Did Brochan wish to keep their arrangement—and his growing affection for her—a secret?
Acid leaked through her chest, her eyes stinging. Stinging? With tears? Anger replaced sorrow. How dare he?! Brochan should be proud of her. If she could date herself, she would. There was a good chance she was her own fated mate!
Inhale. Exhale. Okay. All right. A measure of calm settled over her. Whatever his feelings about her, he still desired her. That wasn’t in question. While they hadn’t spoken and he’d avoided her as much as possible, they had interacted a time or two. His smoldering gaze had kept her strong. A first for her.
Viola quickened her step as soon as she entered the palace. Oof! She bounced into someone. McCadden, she realized with disappointment. As soon as she caught herself, she noticed the moderately attractive Farrow poised behind him.
Point number four on Viola’s list of grievances. If McCadden occupied a chamber and she entered, he immediately stomped out. He spoke to her only in passing, and only to issue insults. Well, no more.
Today, he would hear her out, just like his brother, and that was that. She’d made a mistake with him, and she was big enough to admit it. A tiny mistake, yes, but a mistake all the same. And perhaps she could have maybe, possibly treated him a wee bit better after she’d gotten what she wanted from him instead of taking his gift, taunting him and fleeing.
“McCadden,” she began. “I’m glad you were rude enough to be in my way. I’ve wished to speak with you and apol––”
“Cease speaking.” His lip curled. He backed her against the wall and snarled, “Stay away from my brother.” Clearly not ready to listen or forgive, he stomped off before she could respond.
Strike one. Her shoulders slumped, until she rebounded. What were the odds of a second failure in one day? Zero point zero. Viola never crashed twice.
Farrow remained in place, watching her with an intense, unwavering stare.
How irritating! “I only wished to tell him I was sorry,” she informed the other woman.
“I wonder how lovely you’ll consider yourself when I carve you into pieces.”
She fluffed her hair. “Wonder no more. I’ll love it. The more pieces of me the better.”
If the woman hadn’t been taking up so much of Brochan’s attention, Viola might have liked her. But the two Forsaken were almost always together, whispering and planning their future in the skies. Jealousy seethed inside of her every time she glimpsed them together.
“I’ll take your head. Soon. The day is coming.” The other woman strutted off, following McCadden.
“If you want a girls’ night, just say so,” she called. Strike two. Perhaps she should avoid Brochan, just in case this bad luck continued.
No! But now more than ever, the cuff had to go. Trying to fight Brochan, McCadden and Farrow without full use of her abilities… She shuddered. If one or all the trio attacked her, she must be prepared. Strong.
The meeting with Brochan could wait a few minutes, though. First, she would outfit herself appropriately.
She rushed to the master suite and selected a scarlet gown. The sheer material revealed more than it concealed. As requested, Fluffy had collected her go-bag, ensuring she donned the perfect jewelry. A necklace with dangling bullets. A gun ring that utilized those bullets. Another ring with a minuscule saw hidden beneath the center stone. Another winding bracelet, able to elongate and lock into place, becoming a sword. Each piece had been crafted from a different kind of metal to combat different kinds of creatures.
Confidence restored, Viola marched through the palace she’d been cleaning bit by bit. This time, Fluffy kept pace at her side, his little trot as adorable as ever. “I’ll find Brochan and grant him an opportunity to fix his errors,” she explained. She missed their easy camaraderie in the oasis. Missed getting to know him and letting him get to know her. No one’s glance affected her like his. His compliments were an aphrodisiac.
Her child twittered. Translation: Brilliant plan, Momma.
“Trust me, baby. I know.”
If Brochan opted not to remove the cuff, Viola would have no choice but to wash her hands of him, ending their partnership for good. She refused to live in a cage. And she most assuredly refused to be relegated to the sidelines. One of the reasons she’d left Cameo and the other Lords of the Underworld. Other demon-oppressed immortals she considered friends. They adored her, like everyone else, but they didn’t value her battle skill.
Maybe she was a fool to team up with a beast who built her up one moment and tore her down the next—the same MO as the demon. Not to mention his hatred for her beloved fur-child. Brochan still scowled and cursed whenever he caught sight of Fluffy.
Viola flattened a hand over her churning stomach. Upon her escape from her mother’s gilded cage, she’d been unprepared for the rest of the world. She’d fallen for the first boy to smile at her, easily parted with her virginity, and woke up alone and forgotten. Used. The pattern had continued, eroding an already fragile sense of self-worth.
She’d been a shell of her former self when she’d found Fluffy, injured and abandoned by his kind. She’d doctored and raised him. Again and again, he’d proven his loyalty to her, risking his life to save hers. How dare Brochan think his loved one mattered more than hers?
Voices carried from the throne room, and she picked up speed, gliding through the open double doors.
The trio stood around a table positioned in the center of the room, the top littered with scrolls and maps. Her churning worsened. Once again, the group had opted to exclude her.
“—ambush here, here and here in unison,” Brochan was saying, tapping a claw on different locations of a map. As if he sensed her presence, he flipped up his gaze. His jaw went slack, his horns standing straight up. A sign of excitement. Or maybe aggression. Those silvery irises blazed, sending shivers down her spine.
“Who do you plan to ambush?” she asked.
“Farrow spied one of the warriors we burned.” He looked her over and gulped. “They live on.”
Narcissism attempted to speak, but her delight drowned out the fiend’s voice.
Her ferocious male towered so tall and proud, wearing a plain white T-shirt and black leathers. The perfect complement to his lovely cerulean skin. His dark hair stood on end, and his wings rippled with hostility. Why had she never taken the time to caress every inch of them?
A mystery to solve later. Let’s do this.
Gliding forward, she pasted on a smile. “Thank you so very much for assembling and awaiting my arrival.”
McCadden bristled, and Farrow stiffened. Probably with envy. No one commanded a room better than Viola.
Brochan white-knuckled the table while tracking her every move. “Do you need something, goddess?”
“Many things. All of which are owed to me. Shall I remind you of our bargain, beast? I’m happy to explain the minute details to our guests, if you’d like, but one way or another, the conversation is taking place now.”
A muscle jumped under his eye before he nodded. “Leave us,” he said to McCadden and Farrow.
The Fallen One protested but obeyed, while the Forsaken glowered and flashed away.
Brochan moved to a backless chair at the foot of the table and eased down as if he carried a heavy weight and needed relief. “Talk.”
She bent to pet Fluffy’s precious head and kiss his little snout. “Return to the bedroom, darling. If Brochan is a good boy, Mommy will reward him greatly.”
Eyes glittering with disgust, he vanished in a hurry.
Brochan sat up straighter. “Why did you name him Fluffy?”
As if he cared. No doubt he merely stalled. Even still, she told him, “The years I spent locked inside my mother’s secret home, I read to occupy my time,” she explained as she straightened. “My favorite story revolved around a magical teddy bear named Princess Fluffikans.”
Brochan flinched and rubbed the spot over his heart.
Interesting reaction. Swishing her hips, Viola closed the rest of the distance, swept a pile of papers to the floor, and hopped onto the table directly in front of him.
“Let me guess. You’re here for the removal of the cuff,” he said, a hitch in his voice.
“Among other things.”
“You also expect me to adore you.”
“I do, yes.” Bracing her arms behind her, she reclined at a slight angle. The slits in her skirt allowed her to place one foot on each arm of his chair. “But only because you do, in fact, adore me.”
He wrapped his hands around her ankles with a stronger grip than she’d expected. Tremors migrated from him to her. “I…might,” he admitted.
A shock strong enough to wrench the truth from her. “I desire a real chance with you. I like being with you. I like you. And I suspect I’ll really like being with you when I’m here of my own volition. Wouldn’t you like that? Knowing I’m here because I want to be, not because I’m compelled?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, his long lashes casting spiky shadows over his cheeks. He breathed deeply, his body emitting great waves of strain.
Hope surged. She pressed her advantage. “In return for the cuff’s removal, I have a marvelous idea to ensure McCadden’s immortality. It’s not a trip to Nevaeh, but it does buy your brother some time.”
His brows dropped low over his eyes. “Why won’t you give me the key?”
“Hand it over so you can shack up with another woman?” She scoffed. “Don’t be such a child.”
His jaw went slack. “You’re…jealous of Farrow?”
Her? Jealous? She sucked air between her teeth. “How dare you? Do you even know how ridiculous you sound? Why, I’ve never been jealous of anyone or anything a single second of my life. I’m far too perfect!”
“You are. You’re jealous.” Tendrils of satisfaction and delight wafted from him. Perhaps even a twinge of wonder. “Let me take McCadden past the veil, and I’ll return the key to you. I’ll adore every inch of you again.”
Her heart leaped. Careful. “What if I…lost the key? Or something.”
He stiffened, his satisfaction, delight and wonder dying a swift death. “Did you?”
“I…you…it doesn’t matter! Not until you remove the cuff. As soon as you do, I’ll adore every inch of you.”
The muscle beneath his eye jumped again. “My answer is…no.”
He’d hesitated. She was making progress! “I think your measuring stick is disagreeing with you again.”
“It is,” he hissed, only to jut his chin.
“Remove the cuff. I’ll make you so glad you did.”
“I…no.” His voice hardened. “I don’t trust you enough. And I don’t wish to hurt McCadden any more than necessary. I raised him, Viola. He’s my brother, yes, but he’s also my son. He’s felt worthless most of his life, and his experience with you didn’t help that. For me to choose you over him, even temporarily…I can’t do that to him.”
The demon swooped in, whispering her deepest fears. Unlovable. Unwanted. Forsaken. Just as Brochan had once proclaimed.
Her shoulders rolled in even as she fought to maintain a cordial expression. Another strike. Her bottom lip trembled.
Brochan rubbed the tattoo on his arm and frowned. “Viola—”
“Not another word from you. I’m thinking.” Or rather, masking her reaction. She reclined fully, lying flat and peering up at the vaulted ceiling. She would give this male one more chance. Just one more. She’d come too far with him to stop now. Besides, secret parts of her longed for his unconditional acceptance. The same way she’d once longed for her mother’s unconditional love.
Why did she always pick the hopeless cases?
No, no. Not hopeless. Not yet. “Let me verify I understand you correctly,” she said. “Your brother hates me, so you won’t touch me. You make him feel worthy by making me feel unworthy. Yes?”
He stiffened, released her, and scrubbed a hand over his tired features. “Haven’t you done the same to countless others?”
“Haven’t you learned from my mistakes?” she snipped, blinking away tears. Two could play the blame game.
A growl rumbled from him. “I’ll never pass your test, Viola.”
“We can’t know until I actually test you. But I can’t test you until you admit your great love for me.” Bitterness seeped into her tone. “Besides, I’m not offering forever right now. Only a limited-time, too-good-to-miss opportunity to spend more time with me.”
“Time, yes,” he rushed out with an eager nod. “Just give me more time. You wear the cuff while I figure this out. So much has changed. I must unravel the particulars before I act.”
“You misunderstand.” Once her tears had dried, she eased to her feet. “Remove the cuff, or I’m done with you.”
His tortured gaze searched hers, and he repeated, “Just give me more time, kitten.”
Kitten now. Her favorite endearment paired with a final denial. Things began to shatter inside Viola. Scabs sloughed off internal wounds, leaving them raw and oozing. Strength drained, and her limbs quaked.
Even still, she smiled brightly. As she used to smile for her mother. “Of course. More time.” She patted his cheek. “Take all the time you need. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must check on Fluffy. We wouldn’t want him to pee all over your shoes in the closet, would we? Not again.”
Brochan clutched the arms of his chair again as if to stop himself from reaching for her. “Viola. Goddess.”
“No. Nothing more needs to be said. Goodbye, Brochan.” She strolled from the throne room as if she hadn’t a care.
He didn’t call her back.
McCadden waited just outside the doors, his body vibrating with fury. Had he listened in? He stared at her as she passed him, silent.
Somehow, she maintained her casual façade all the way to the bedroom, where Fluffy played his two favorite games in unison: Zoomies and the Floor is Lava, bouncing from one piece of furniture to another at breathtaking speed.
She shut and locked the door, even knowing Brochan had only to flash to enter. Her pet sensed her distress and leaped into her arms to nuzzle and comfort her. “We’re blowing this joint, darling.” She kissed his face and set him down. “Be a dear and fetch Mommy’s ax.”
He raced to the duffel bag she’d hidden under the bed, then returned with a small, golden ax in his mouth. She dropped to her knees and petted his head, cooing words of praise before claiming the weapon.
A plan formed days ago. A good one. Brochan would never be able to find her.
She’d meant what she said.
This was goodbye.