“Just…no.”
“David, I would do anything to—”
“It’s out of the question.”
“But it would save our forever.”
“No. It would destroy it, Ara!” He spun around to look at me. “Do you think I would ever be able to touch you again if you’d been with another man?”
I sunk back a bit. “I wouldn’t have to sleep with anyone to do it.”
He frowned at me.
“IVF, turkey baster…” I suggested.
He turned away. “I couldn’t live with myself if you had to go through that just to save me.”
“But you’d be living. And I know, from experience, that you can get past just about anything that happens to you, David. You were burned on the fire—you caught me with my legs around Mike. You can get past a damn turkey baster.”
He went ultra still and ultra quiet for a second, then turned around again, his whole body shaking with laughter.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked, trying not to smile.
“Turkey baster.”
And I couldn’t help it. I laughed too.
He wandered over and placed a hand to the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss on the brow, my favourite kind of kiss. “My love, it’s a good idea, but I'm the king. It’s my job to die for our people—for you. I swore that in my oath, and that is what I’ll do.”
I stepped back. “No.”
He smiled conceitedly. “You have no say. Arthur gave me the dagger, Ara. I'm leaving for Paris in a month to kill Drake, and you can either enjoy this time with me, or you can waste it being mad.”
Paris? Which meant Arthur hadn't given him the real dagger, because I knew, and Arthur knew, that Drake was in Romania. I propped my hands on my hips, a challenging grin marking my lips. “Fine. I’ll take door number two.”
“Ara, be reasonable.”
“Me? Me be reasonable? You’re talking about going to your death, taking our forever and throwing it away, and I don't get any say!” I leaned forward on each word. “And you just think I should sit back and take it!”
“Yes.”
“No!” I stomped my foot. “I won't, David. If you go . . . if you go to kill him, I . . . I’ll do something stupid while you're gone.”
He stepped into me. “Like what?”
I shrugged out of his grip. “I’ll sleep with Arthur and make him king.”
His jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I held strong; my shoulders straight, head high.
“Ara.” He grabbed my arm firmly. “If you touch him—” He shook his head, his teeth like a cage behind his lips. “If you . . . I’ll kill him. And God help me, Ara, I wouldn't be able to stop myself.” He dropped my arm and turned away. “So, if you think for one second that having a child with him will save our forever, you’re wrong.”
“No. I'm not, because it’d mean you’d be alive.”
“But I will hate you.”
“I can live with that better than your death.”
His eyes narrowed, the stern, scary David resting just behind that green gaze. “I am going to tell you something, young lady, and you are going to listen.” He grabbed both my arms and moved me to sit on the chair.
I plonked down clumsily, keeping my eyes on David's as he squatted in front of me, composing himself.
“You will do as you are told. I am king, and I will kill Drake. I will not have you touching or carrying the child of another man.” His voice shook with anger. “This will not be negotiated, and if you even think about going against me, I will have you locked in a cell until word of Drake's death has been received. Do I make myself clear?”
The little girl inside me shook, nodding her head, but the woman I felt growing deep in my soul every day stood taller, readying her sword. “You can't ask me to accept your death, David.”
“I'm not.” He stood up. “I'm telling you to.”
“God!” I stood up too, and stomped my foot again. “Why do you have to be like this? I'm not one of your minions. I'm not someone you can boss around. I am the goddamn queen, and I! Have power! Over you! Maybe I’ll lock you in a cell, and not let you out until I kill Drake.”
He rushed up beside me and grabbed my arm again. “You stubborn, spoiled little brat.”
I tugged away. “I’d rather be a brat in a world where you're alive than an obedient wife in a world where you're dead.”
He walked away and sat down on the coffee table in the sitting room, running both hands through his hair. “I can't fight with you, my love. I can't. I won't. I have to kill Drake. I'm sorry. I know that means I'm giving up our forever, but I had hoped to at least leave you with a child before I left.”
“So I could be a single, teenage mom!”
He sighed. “You always wanted a family, Ara. A little Harry, and—”
“But it won't be a little Harry, David. I can't even fall pregnant.” My voice broke. “And Lilithians don't have boys. We have girls.”
“So you don't want a child because you don't want a girl.”
“I never said that!” I screamed. “I'm just saying…I don't want this. Any of this. I wanted a family: a mum and a dad and a baby. Not an eternity without you. You're all I have ever wanted to live for. If you take that way, then I have nothing left!”
He softened a little. “I know. Okay. I know. But you're strong—stronger than any of us have ever given you credit for, and you will get through this.”
“No.” I shook my lowered head. “I won't.”
He appeared a step away from me, testing the waters. “You will.”
“You’re wrong. And, if you’re so hell-bent on dying for us, then—” I looked up at him, my jaw stiff, sight blinded by tears. “I want a divorce.”
“What?” He closed the gap between us quickly, his green eyes wide.
“You heard me.” I shuffled my feet, standing a little taller in the domination of his height. “I love you, David, enough that I am willing to do anything to keep you alive, even if that means I can't be with you anymore.”
“And what then? You’re just gonna go out and fuck some random stranger!” He sunk back on his heels, dropping his arm to his side as a flash image of Jason came to the front of his thoughts. “Or maybe not a stranger.”
“Don't go there, David. I didn't have anyone in mind. I'm just trying to wake you up and make you see that you can't make decisions like this without me. I have a say.” I pointed to my chest. “You're my husband and I don't want you to be dead for forever. Don't you remember? Have you forgotten what you told me about how vampires love eternally?”
“No,” he said, looking down.
“Then what makes you think it’s okay to leave me, to just die and not care how it makes me feel?”
“You think I don't care?” he yelled. “Ara, I am the only one who actually does care how you feel. I am the one who came after you when my brother was torturing you. I'm the one who laid burning in a fire, alive, to save our forever, and it was all for nothing, because as soon as those scars healed, my heart was torn open again by this—” he presented the air, as if everything we were discussing was laying out in front of us, “—by this truth that I battled with long before you ever even noticed I was struggling with something. I've had to deal with this. I've had to think long and hard about letting Drake live, running for the rest of our lives, or killing him and leaving the one girl I never wanted to hurt alone, forever, to fall into who-knows-whose arms.” He stepped back, rubbing his hairline, his voice shaking on the brink of tears. “So don't tell me I don't care how you feel, Ara, because it is all I care about.”
My fingers had wrapped so tight around the key on my necklace that, as I dropped my hands, too much blood came rushing back into it. “There has to be something we can do.”
He reached across and placed his hands on both my shoulders. “There is. Enjoy the last few months we have—make some memories, maybe make a baby.”
“And you’ll leave before she’s even born?”
“This is just how it has to be,” he said coldly, turning away. “Discussion closed.”
“David?” I called, but he disappeared, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
I sat on my bed, tearstains drying out my cheeks, and told my dad the best of all my adventures living in Paris, including how my husband just confessed he was going to his death for some noble, supernatural cause.
There was no negotiation, Dad, I wrote. He just didn't care how I felt about it, and there was nothing I could say. He had a point, and I know he’s usually always right. But not this time. He’s doing the wrong thing! What does he think will happen if he just leaves me here—alone? I won't survive it, Dad. I won’t. I never wanted to live without him, and he won't reason with me. What am I supposed to do but go behind his back and put a turkey baster where it’s not supposed to go? I don't want to, Dad. I started crying again. I don't want to betray him, but he's left me no choice. I just don’t know how to fix this, how to make it that I won’t lose him. I sobered a little, holding my breath, resting my finger over the ‘send’ button.
“Ara?” My door opened slowly, a head of blonde hair popping in between the crack.
“Emily.” I quickly swiped the tears away and deleted the last paragraph, leaving my email as the chirpy, I'm-doing-well kind my dad really wanted to hear. “What’s up?”
“Sorry to disturb you. I just…can I come in?”
“Sure.” I moved over and patted the spot on the bed next to me. But Emily closed my door and walked over, taking a seat on the foot of my bed instead, her knees facing the dresser as if maybe she had bad news and didn’t want to see my face as she said it.
“What’s up, Em?”
“Blade just told me,” she said, as quiet as a mouse.
“About what?”
She drew a jagged breath, wiping her wrist along her nose. “David went to Mike—told him about this dagger.”
My blood ran cold. “And . . . what did Mike say?”
“He. . .” She scraped repeatedly at the back of her hand with her thumbnail. “He threw things, yelled, screamed. They fought, but he…”
“He what, Em?” I edged forward.
She placed both hands slowly on the bed beside her legs. “He promised David he’d take care of you—make sure you didn't do anything to stop him.”
“What!” I sat up and shoved my laptop aside. “Why would he do that?”
