Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) (28 page)

Recollecting himself, he handed Sophie a
gift. “For the baby shower,” he said, awkwardly.

“Thank you,” Sophie motioned him inside,
taking the beautifully wrapped box.

“Sorry,” Sylvain shook his head again, “let
me start over. Hello Sophie.”

Sophie smiled tightly, the light not quite
reaching her eyes. “Hello, Sylvain.” He was acting odd - nervous
and the head shaking thing, while adorable, was weird. And, she
told herself she could acknowledge that he was adorable even though
he was a jackass-weasel-bastard who had broken her heart. She
wouldn’t be a half-warm blooded supernatural woman if she didn’t
feel something for him – he was an exceptionally pretty face after
all.

“You’re a bit early,” she said, to break the
awkwardness.

He inwardly winced. He had always been able
to pop into the plantation and find a place to put himself. No
matter what time he had arrived. Apparently, that had changed,
although he did deserve that and more, he acknowledged.

“I would really like to speak with you,
Sophie,” he explained. She remained silent and looked at him, her
face unreadable. “Please?” He nearly begged, but thought it would
be overkill.

“Sure,” she replied. “We can use the
library.”

Sophie placed the baby shower gift on the
large desk in the library. Sylvain entered behind her and she heard
the door click shut. She might be a woman on a new path, she
realized, but he could still pull all the right strings in her
heart with just one look. There wasn’t the same pain this time
though, but she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to
the regret and sadness that she felt.

Sylvain waved an arm to the chaise lounge
near the window. Sophie accepted, because to not do so would be
ungracious. It was unnerving though, she thought, as he sat beside
her. The behavioral experts say that communication is mostly
non-verbal. Well, they were talking shit. She was looking at this
man, examining his behavior and she got diddly squat on the ‘what
the hell is this about’ front.

“I need to apologize to you,” Sylvain finally
broke the tense silence. “I should have come to speak with you
sooner.”

“I was worried,” Sophie admitted. “We are,
after all, still friends and allies,” Sophie lied, to save
face.

“What?” He looked confused. “Oh, you mean
after the mission? Well, yes. That too.”

“What did you mean?” Sophie asked, her brows
knitted.

“Okay, let me start over. I’m making a mess
of this,” Sylvain groaned in embarrassment.

Sophie nodded, bemusement curving her lips.
This was a far cry from the normally dashing and mischievous fae
prince. It was good to see him nervous and a bit odd. Sophie
settled back to watch him squirm. She felt no guilt whatsoever. The
jackass-weasel-bastard had broken her heart. A loud voice in her
head pulled the emotions from her heart, reminded her that she had
missed him, and that, perhaps, she should hear him out. Well, fuck
reason, she thought. She was a pissed off woman and deserved some
begging and pleading from her man. Oh for the love of
Dieu
!
Sophie chided herself. He was not her man! Just moments ago she was
congratulating herself on her enormous progress, and then one
stumbling apology from him - and yes he was the object of her
affections - then she was back at ‘her man-ing’ him!

Sylvain must have misinterpreted her frown,
because he sat silently, waiting for her. “Yes,” she prompted." She
wanted to get this done with, so she could escape him until the
house filled up with more people.

Sylvain went on to explain his absence since
the mission. How he had realized his error in keeping his sister at
a distance. “Marianne was a woman I loved with everything I was. I
don’t know what happened with my sister, but something set her off.
She lost it and let her Unseelie reign terror over the humans we
then intermingled with. It was a blood bath and in the moments when
blood didn’t run freely, it was chaos. I was away on a mission for
the Goddess at the time, but when I heard her call, her pain, I
returned. She was already dead. Sophie, Marianne was an empath like
you. My sister neither killed her nor did she murder and torture
the humans and Seelie who dared to get in the Unseelie’s way.”

“I sense a 'but' coming on,” Sophie
interrupted.

Sylvain nodded. “The pain Marianne felt from
those around her is what killed her. Remember the farmhouse stairs?
How it affected you?” Sophie dipped her head. “Now, imagine that
amplified by hundreds of thousands.”

“
Dieu
!” Sophie exclaimed. “The poor
woman.”

“Yes, I thought so too,” Sylvain responded
looking out at the space in front of him. “And you are right, it
was a horrible way to die. But at the farmhouse, when we spoke of
the woman’s final hours, I mentioned to you that there was a
possibility that her last moments were ones of peace - not horror
or resignation to death. I realized after the mission, when I
thought back, that Marianne’s last moments could have been that way
also. But more than that, it pushed me to really think about her
death - about what had happened.” He turned to face her. “I’ve made
peace with my sister. It is new still and we’ve been working on it
for the past month, but we are making strides and I believe that
the Seelie and Unseelie fae will once again be a common race. We’ll
always have our differences, but we won’t be ruled as two separate
groups by two feuding rulers.”

“So that’s why you’ve been absent,” Sophie
noted.

“Yes,” he affirmed. “I wanted to talk to all
of you, but mostly to you. I couldn’t though. I had to sort myself
out first before speaking to you.”

Sophie felt hope stir, but pushed it away. “I
understand,” she offered. “I have gone through my own
transformation since then. I still wish you had at least phoned to
tell me that you were working on some stuff, but that we’d speak
soon.”

“But I did do that,” Sylvain argued ignoring
his gut instinct that told him to shut up and take the heat.

“Yes, you did. But then I did not here from
you for days! What was I supposed to think?!”

“You’re right,” he replied. “I should have
been more thoughtful.”

“Yes you should have, but you are a guy and
you’re a moron so let’s leave it at that. But,” Sophie continued,
evidently not ‘leaving’ things ‘at that’. “Next time you leave a
half-assed, cryptic note that like, be more specific, or do
yourself a favor and pick up the goddamn phone!”

“Okay,” Sylvain agreed, his eyes wide with
shock. A pissed off Sophie was not something he’d seen before, but
when she got angry, she let you know it in no uncertain terms.

“But, as much as I hate,” she glared at him,
“and I mean hate,” she emphasized the word, “to admit it, you were
right Sylvain. I needed a complete break from you to learn some
things about myself too.” She looked at him squarely, finding
herself more confident in her own skin after letting off some
steam. “That night when I told you of my husband...”

“Late husband,” he corrected.

“Late husband,” Sophie acknowledged, smiling
at the memory of when he had said the same words. She began again,
“You told me that night that I should not give up hope on
fulfilling my mother’s deathbed wish. I believe you now. I don’t
regret the time we had together, it showed me that I can truly love
a man and the time we’ve spent apart has shown me that I can be
loved.”

Alarm registered in his mind! “Are you with
someone then?”

“Oh no,” Sophie laughed. “I meant that I have
the hope of such a relationship. Our relationship might be over,
but that doesn’t mean that I can’t find another and one where the
love is equally returned.”

Sylvain’s relief dissipated. “I’m sorry I
hurt you Sophie.”

“I’m not,” she smiled at him. “It was what I
needed. I’m in a good place now. No, check that, I’m in a really
great place now.” It was a smile of a quietly confident woman - one
who was completely at ease in her own skin. It was the biggest turn
on he had ever experienced.

“I brought this for you,” Sylvain handed her
the other package he had been carrying around with him.

“I thought this was a gift you wanted to give
personally to Anais and Conall,” Sophie took it, puzzlement showing
on her face.

She moved to put it next to her when he
placed a hand over hers to stop her. “Please will you open it?”
Sylvain requested. “I’d like to know what you think.”

“Right now?” Sophie questioned.

“Please,” he urged.

Sophie shrugged and did as he bid, carefully
removing the lid. Inside of it, was an elaborate mask made of white
porcelain and colored in bold, bright tones that made one smile.
“The face of a joker,” she pinpointed.

“That’s my first mask,” Sylvain explained.
“It is the one most people see first, and the one you saw
through.”

Sophie looked at him. “What are you
saying?”

“I’ll explain later,” he replied. “Tell me
what you think about it.”

“It is beautiful,” Sophie fingered the mask.
“Is it fae…” The question caught. She picked up the mask and
another was beneath it. This mask was a complete contrast to the
other. It was made of solid wood and steel. It exuded primal
strength and bravery.

“My second mask,” Sylvain stated, “that of a
warrior.”

“Given your role and our alliance, it is an
essential mask,” Sophie observed.

“Yes,” Sylvain acquiesced, “but it isn’t all
of me.”

Curious, Sophie lifted it out and placed it
in the lid of the box, on top of the other. She discovered masks
symbolizing his sovereignty, his alliance with the witches and
vampires, his role as brother, and a mask denoting a scholar. It
was the last object that caught her breath. Beneath all the masks
lay a heart, although that was inadequate for the enormous
heart-shaped ruby that glistened from the bottom of the box.

“No more masks, Sophie,” Sylvain said,
placing the box on the floor and taking her hands in his. “I won’t
hide behind them; won’t hide from you. It’s been hell without you
and I was too stubborn to acknowledge how I felt. I was afraid to
lose you. Afraid that what had happened to Marianne would happen to
you. And I couldn’t lose you. I needed to keep you safe even if it
meant pushing you away.”

“That’s kind of screwy,” Sophie interrupted
him. “How can you not want to lose me by pushing me away, because
then you’d lose me anyway.”

“Did you just throw guy logic at me?” Sylvain
grinned.

Sophie laughed in response. “I guess I
did.”

Sylvain chuckled, “The tables have
turned.”

Sophie smiled, and then prompted, “You said
that you loved me?”

“I do,” he confirmed, “I love you with all my
being, with and without the masks I wear as duty and as protection.
I love you with an intensity that leaves me incapable of not having
you with me as my partner, my confidant, and one of the two women
that can give me the kick up my ass that I sometimes, grudgingly
need.”

“One of two women,” Sophie’s eyebrows shot
up.

“My sister,” he quickly informed.

“Of course,” Sophie flushed. “Within seconds
I’ve gone from accepting a life without you to having you proclaim
your love to me. I understand what you’ve been going through and
can accept that it kept you busy, but you must see my point of
view. I have not heard from you or seen you in a month. No phone
calls, no texts, no dropping by. Nothing. It is a bit much to ask
me to show up now, proclaim you love and expect me to fall into
whatever plans you have. By the way, what are your plans?”

Sylvain sat back. Two things hit him at once
- pride for the way that she stood up for herself and insecurity.
He knew nothing he said would be able to adequately convince her of
his sincerity. Using magick, he sliced at his forearm. “Drink,” he
commanded. Then softening his tone, he said, “I’m proving my love
to you. Please drink Sophie.”

Sophie stared at the blood oozing from the
cut. Her fangs descended in response to his offer. “Do you know
what you’re asking?”

“The blood bond,” Sylvain replied. “I’ve
offered you my arm first to show my sincerity, but I have every
intention of drinking from you and bonding with you for life.”

“We will share emotions, thoughts - the good
and the bad. Is that what you want?” Sophie was shocked. Any blood
offering was to be taken seriously. Blood held power as a rule,
especially the blood of such a powerful fae.

“My life, my heart, and my immortal gratitude
for your love,” Sylvain proposed.

The words were simple and short, but were
also the most powerful Sophie had ever heard. She bit into her own
wrist in silent acceptance and offered it to him the same time she
lifted his arm and drank.

Everything occurred at once. Memories,
feelings, and thoughts filled them. They felt their heady sexual
desire and their bodies reacted. More prominently, was the
undeniable love they felt for each other. Stripped of all façades,
dark blue eyes lifted, and met red. Sealing their wounds, they sat
up and stared at each other, immobilized by the enormity of what
the other felt and what they had just done.

No words were needed, but Sylvain felt that
Sophie deserved them nonetheless. As Sophie read his thoughts, she
smiled at the sentiment, appreciating it for its honor and
beauty.

Sylvain bent down, in the old-fashioned
manner of a besotted man, and held out a ring he slipped out from
beneath the ruby heart. An identical and much smaller heart lay on
a simple band of faery gold in the palm of his hand. “Sophie, I
love you. I love you,” he repeated. “I wish, more than anything in
this world and the rest, to spend eternity with you, and yet, I
find that even that is not enough. I need you like I need magick,
my people, my body, my heart, for you are my heart. Sophie,
ma
chérie
, will you be my princess, my friend, my lover, my
confidant, my partner? And in return, I will give you all that I am
and all that I will be. No masks, no games, and no secrets - just
me. Will you marry me?”