The Ballad of Aramei (47 page)

But despite the many packs that honor me and are devoted to me, there will always be those who seek to take everything out from under me. Viktor Vargas will always be my greatest enemy and as the months wear on, I do see more and more signs of his inevitable uprising.

I will be prepared for him when that time comes. And he knows it.

I never heard from or saw my mother, Sibyl, again after the last time I saw her. More rumors have reached my ears that she was at the battle in the mountains when I defeated my father and that she was killed. Some say she went into hiding, while others claim that she committed suicide after Viktor betrayed her with intentions of siring Adria.

No father. No mother. But I don’t need them because I have a real family now and they fill every part of me that ever wanted to feel human love and experience human life. Adria completes me. We complete each other. It was fate that we met, both parentless and broken and confused. We both lived very different, yet very similar lives and we fell in love fast because we were meant to be together, because destiny pulled our lives every which way to make sure that our paths crossed. And when they did, the rest just fell into place.

HARRY

Two years ago, I was just a seventeen-year-old skater living happily in Hallowell, Maine with pro-skater aspirations and too many plaid shirts (hey, the stereotypes are true for
some
people). I can’t say I never would’ve imagined being here, where I am now, because in the grand scheme of things and being what I am, saying something like that would be pretty damned redundant.

I asked Daisy to marry me last month.

She squealed and said yes—I think—in some half-excited, half-crying weird voice that kind of scared me a little. I mean, sure, she could’ve been crying because I’m such a pushover when it comes to her, and maybe laughing because the thought of being married to me is entertaining. But I’m pretty sure she said yes. I guess picking out colors of bridesmaid’s dresses and something about a theme and whatnot, constitutes as a yes—(God, someone
please
conveniently drag me off at the right moment when she starts shoving patterns and color palettes in my face because I don’t know my ass from my head when it comes to that stuff).

So I’m good.

I guess I just have a hard time believing that a girl as beautiful and as sexy as Daisy Mayfair—English accent and all!—wants to be married to
me
. Not that I have some sort of self-esteem issues or anything, but Daisy is far from being your typical girl-next-door. And guys like me usually only get the girl-next-door types.

In darker news, Daisy and I had to move from Hallowell shortly after Isaac defeated his father in battle. Minna Abrahamsen, the Harvester, was hot on my trail. Harvesters are my kind’s worst enemy and nothing can be said, no bargains can be made for even the most innocent of us. They have and always will hunt us until we’ve all been reaped and are no longer a threat to this world. I wish I could just meet with Minna and try to convince her that I’m on her side now and that I could never do anything to hurt the ones I love.

I’ve been hurting those I love for generations because of our ‘agenda’.

But you can say that I’ve gone rogue now. I mean, not in a Zia sort of way, but I have officially, after living so many different lives, turned my back on my kind. I’ve even gone as far as committing the single most treacherous act that one of us could ever commit: I told Daisy
everything
about me, about
Us
. I told her our agenda and what will happen if we succeed. I told her about the gateways that have already been opened throughout the world: The gates in France, Alaska and China, all whose Charges fulfilled their destinies, unlike Adria who was supposed to help Aramei open a gate right here in Maine. And then the most famous gate of all: Sorrento, Italy, opened by Victoria Hizri’s Charge, Pelicia-Cinnia once known in her human life as Josephine.

But that’s another story….

Yeah, Daisy and I are still living in Maine, but I won’t say where until after we leave again. I feel like we’re always kind of on the run even though we’ve been pretty stable in this apartment for a long time. But we’ll move again, I know, because I’m not only running from Minna and other Harvesters like her; Genna left knowing where to find me and I’m fair game even to her now. But I’m also running from my own kind, those who aren’t exactly the same me, but who are above me and who I can’t hide my identity from. I fear what they will do to me, which is more than anything Minna or Genna could ever do. Punishment for failing to manipulate my Charge into fulfilling her destiny to sire Aramei will be severe enough. But the punishment for going rogue….

I miss Adria. I miss her a lot. But we still talk and we still share our deepest, darkest secrets (she hysterically brought up to me on the phone just the other night something about Isaac trying to sweet-talk her into giving him an heir. I laughed my ass off on the other end of the phone. She didn’t seem to like that much. “You frickin’ jerk!” she snapped into the receiver. “Aww, come on, you know I love you,” I said. “And I’ll still love you when your two hundred pounds, waddling around the house and barely able to fit your fat ass through the front door.” No doubt, she hung up on me. And of course, she called me back an hour later acting like the conversation never happened.)

Adria may no longer be my Charge, but she’ll always be my friend and I’ll always do anything for her.

How long I live in this life, it’s never something one can tell. I could get run over by Mack truck tomorrow and be reborn into…Oh God, Adria and Isaac’s brat werewolf child. That would be my luck! Not a guy destined to be a billionaire, or the next Prince of Whatever country that still has princes and such. No, I’d end up snot-nosed little brat with a more hair than I want to imagine ever having to buzz off.

But in reality, the chances are that, like always, I’ll outlive even Daisy who is almost immortal herself.

Yeah…I always outlive them.

ALEXANDRA

There’s a knock on my bedroom door. I’ve been living in the Mayfair house ever since my now best friend, Rachel, beat the crap out of me in the basement that night. Other than my sister, no one is closer to me than Rach.

“Who is it?” I shout across the room and when no one shouts back at me, I get up from the bed and waltz over to open it.

Xavier stands there holding a bouquet of white roses, smiling from ear-to-ear.

Flowers?
Really
? What is this,
1940
?

“What?” he says, noticing the repelled look on my face. “C’mon, what girl doesn’t love roses?”

I smirk at him and let the door swing shut in his face.

Just one more day of torture. Just one. I mean hell, it’s been a year and the guy is still trying to get in my pants.

And it’s incredibly hot.

Just one more day….

NATHAN

“Baby, are you ready?” my girlfriend of over a year says sitting across from me at our favorite table at the bar.

Our relationship has been a secret…for many reasons.

I drink down the last of my beer—I drink it for taste; werewolves can’t get drunk easily, unfortunately—and stand up, holding out my hand to her. She smiles up at me with those sexy bright green eyes, framed by jet-black silky hair. I could so easily force her ass up out of that chair and have my way with her in the back of the bar, but we really do need to get on the road. Got about a seven hour trip to Providence ahead of us.

She grins up at me, already having read the sexual frustration written all over my features, and that grin of hers knows no bounds. She knows how to push my buttons and force the beast inside of me just a little to the surface. She loves it. But I often have to put that girl in her place. She loves that, too. She takes my hand and stands up, pressing her body playfully against mine, triggering a deep growl rumbling through my chest.

“We have time,” she whispers and then tugs my earlobe with her teeth.

I shut my eyes and inhale abrasively.

“No,” I say and she looks up into my eyes, “I want this taken care of. When you’re not with me, I feel
her
in my skin. It’s like an infection—Genna, I-I can’t take it anymore.” I clasp my hands around her upper arms and peer down into her ethereal face.

“I know, baby,” she says and her soft fingers move up my arms and take hold of my wrists. “Minna Abrahamsen’s time is almost up and you’ll be free of her for good.”

I kiss her savagely, lifting her petite body into my arms; her legs straddle my waist. I grip her butt in my hands and growl into her neck. The music funnels around us through the bar and there’s no shortage of conversations and the occasional pool stick making contact with a ball, but all I can really hear is Genna’s rapid heartbeat pumping through every corner of my body.

The kiss breaks reluctantly and she gazes into my eyes; her fingertips lingering upon my lips. “So are we sticking with the plan?” she says and kisses me softly one more time.

I kiss her back in the same way and answer, “Yes, I’ll take Minna out while Saiulee does her thing in the basement with the Praverians in the safe.”

Genna pulls my lip back with her teeth.

I go in this time hungrily, wrapping my arms so tight around her small form that I could crush her ribs if I’m not careful.

Alright…so maybe there’s a
little
time to spare before we leave for Providence.

ADRIA

37

I JUST FINISHED PACKING the last of my stuff from my room at Aunt Bev and Uncle Carl’s house. It’s going to be hard saying goodbye, but I’m entering the next chapter in my life and chapters are never easy in the beginning.

Hearing Isaac’s Jeep pulling into the drive, I head down the stairs with a duffle bag over one shoulder.

Aunt Bev and Uncle Carl are standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for me. Yes, I did say that Uncle Carl was
standing
. About seven months ago, he started moving his legs on his own and they pushed his physical therapy sessions into double-time. He took his first new steps five months ago and is making progress every day. He’ll never walk like he used to and he’ll always have an obvious limp on his left side, but to Uncle Carl, a limp is a miracle. He smiles a lot now and has taken to talking so much these days that it’s scary. When I first moved here, he hardly ever said anything at all. Now, Aunt Bev can’t get him to shut up!