Cole stood cloaked in the shadows of the moon room as he watched Elexiandra descend the stairs. The awe on her face captivated him as her mouth parted. His father would be irate if he found her here; this room was built for his mother and remained a shrine to her.
It was once a place for her to retreat to when she needed to think and rejuvenate. His father spent weeks having it constructed and made sure the room's design made it so a piece of a moon could always be seen from somewhere, no matter what time of day or night it was.
At noon, that piece of moon was found in the far-right corner if he stood with his toes against the glass, but it was there.
This room was his mother’s retreat and her small piece of the lycan realm in the land of the dark fae. She’d brought the luna flowers in when they were no more than seeds and grown them until her death.
Cole barely recalled a time when the vines were no more than a foot tall. She died before she ever got to see them grow into something more, but he imagined this was what she’d envisioned for the room.
When he was a child and she was still alive, he’d sit on the bench in the far corner of the room and watch as she cupped each small vine in her hands. While she talked to them, they weaved around her, and some stroked her cheek.
Sometimes, he swore they laughed with her. And on the day she died, they wept with him when he retreated here. He’d come here in the hopes they’d all been wrong and a rogue warlock hadn’t killed her.
He’d come here believing he would find her smiling amidst her flowers. He would run to her, and she would envelop him in her arms and dry his tears while she laughed over the silliness of the mistake.
She hadn’t been here, it hadn’t been a mistake, and he’d lain in this room for days while he grieved her. The servants tried to lure him away, but he remained where his mother’s essence still thrived in the plants that hugged him while he cried.
Three days later, his father came for him. Cole recalled watching his father’s strong hand slip past the vines that had closed protectively over him while he slept and wept. He recalled being drawn from the vines to discover his father’s black, bloodshot eyes staring at him.
Cole hadn’t seen the man since he delivered the news of his mother’s death. Afterward, he’d retreated to his private solar. Broken and crying, Cole locked himself away too.
He remembered being astonished to see his father. He hadn’t expected him to come for him, but as his dad lifted him from the ground, Cole wrapped his arms around his neck and cleaved to him as he started crying again.
His father carried him from the room, put him in a bath, and dressed him. He’d never forget the broken slump of his father’s shoulders as he cared for him. Stubble lined his father’s normally clean-shaven face, and his tears had swelled his eyes.
Cole was only seven when his mother died, but a part of him died with her. A larger part of his father followed her into the grave.
Afterward, his father spent years torturing the warlock before Cole’s uncle, Maverick, convinced him to kill the monster. When Cole was fifteen, he overheard Maverick telling his father he shouldn’t keep the warlock alive and in the same house as Cole.
Maverick was still livid over his sister’s murder, but he believed Tove was only extending Cole’s suffering by keeping her killer alive. His father must have agreed as the warlock was dead a few days later.
However, his vengeance did nothing to ease Tove’s sorrow. And no matter how many women followed his first and only wife, Cole knew his father never loved any of them like he had his mother.
And now, another beautiful woman stood in his mother’s room. And to Cole’s amazement, the flowers turned their heads away from the moons and toward her.
He was the only one the flowers reacted to, partly because of his mother and partly because of his lycan blood. Over the years, the peace he received from the flowers and his love for the moon were the most lycan things about him; they were probably the only lycan things about him… until he encountered her.
And now, he could feel the beast stirring within him while he watched her.
Was she also part lycan? Was that why the flowers responded to her too?
No, Del had said her mother was a human, and Del was very much a vampire. Or maybe he remembered it wrong? Maybe he only thought Del said his daughter was part human, and he’d said lycan.
Cole believed he would have remembered if she was part lycan, but they’d been fighting a war and there was often a lot of drink involved when Del opened up about his daughter, so Cole could be wrong.
Elexiandra sighed and lowered her head. The serenity on her face and the moonlight streaming over her caused his breath to catch. The flowers reacted to her because it was impossible not to; she was magnificent.
They didn’t respond to her in the same way they did to him, but they weren’t indifferent to her like they were to everyone else who entered this room… except him. The flowers’ interest in her intrigued him almost as much as she did.
Cole released the shadows cloaking him, and they slid back into their places along the wall. He stepped forward and waited for Elexiandra to realize he was here.
When she opened her eyes, she spotted him and gasped. Her hand flew to her throat, and a panicked look crossed her face. Smiling, he stepped further away from the shadows caressing him and strolled toward her.
He’d been there when she entered the room, but she’d never noticed as the shadows kept him hidden. After she left Malakai behind, Cole lost sight of her and assumed she retreated for the night. Needing some time to himself, he slipped away to what was once his mother’s place and was now his.
Her gaze returned to the doorway, but she had to know he’d stop her before she ever made it there.
“Are you part lycan?” he asked as he stopped a few feet away from her.