Twenty-One
Daphne
My mother is beautiful as she walks beside me. Long flowing hair, healthy and shining in the bright summer sunshine.
She reaches out and takes my hand. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”
I stop her in front of the garden, roses blooming all around us. “Mama,” I cry, a rush of emotion hitting me, I don’t even know why. For some reason it feels like I haven’t seen her in a long time.
I pull her into a hug, squeezing her close.
“What’s got into you?” she asks, chuckling. She rubs my back anyway, just like she used to do when I was sick as a kid.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I say, tears bursting out of my eyes and running down my cheeks, even though I’m not certain where she’s been or why we’ve been separated, or why it’s so good to see her right now. To feel her solid in my arms.
She pulls back from me and cups my face, swiping some stray hairs behind my ear. “You listen to me, Daphne Laurel, you are strong and beautiful and you can do anything in this life you set your mind to.”
I nod, tears still streaking my cheeks. I hear what she’s saying and for the first time, deep in my bones, I believe it.
Just then, the sun starts to set and Mom looks over her shoulder. Then she smiles gently back at me. “It’s almost time for me to go.”
“No.” I shake my head and clutch onto her forearms. “I’m not ready. Just a little longer.”
But her smile only gentles further as she pulls away from me. “My wonderful girl,” she whispers, giving my hand one last squeeze. “I always wished a love like no other for you, and that you’d live a beautiful life. With someone who could match your beautiful soul.”
She beams at me. “I couldn’t have left you and been at peace knowing you’d be all alone in the world. But now I can.”
“Mama,” I call, reaching for her as she backs away, but no matter what I do, she begins to vanish into sudden twilight, while I’m frozen in place.
But it’s not scary or sad. It’s like what she said. She’s leaving now because she’s at peace and…
It comes back to me like a whisper on the wind—it’s not your time yet. And I feel it in my bones. It’s not my time now. Maybe not for a long while yet. Maybe not for a whole lifetime.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
I jerk awake with a start. To Logan hovering above me on the bed.
I screech and throw my arms around him. “How? How did you get out?”
I wrap my legs around him too, for good measure. “Armand said he’d talk to Marcus but I didn’t think they could work this fast—”
“It wasn’t Marcus or Armand. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you later. What’s important is,” his eyes are shining as he drags me up to a sitting position. “We got a lab. We can mass produce the Battleman’s serum.”
I blink as he explicitly spells it out for me. “Daph, we have the cure. You’ll be cured. Not just of this latest relapse, but completely. We found the cure and we can manufacture it.”
It’s not your time yet.
Holy shit, Mom knew.
Wait, that’s ridiculous, it was just a dream.
But it felt so real.
“Why aren’t you celebrating?” Logan’s exuberance immediately turns to concern. “You should be celebrating. Are you not feeling okay today? Did something happen while I was away? Fuck, have you not been keeping up with the recovery protocols? Dammit, Daph, you promised you wouldn’t slip no matter what happened to me—”
I grab his hands to stop him from getting off the bed. “No, stop. I’ve been keeping up with all my treatments. Just give me a second.” I stare at him and then I start laughing. Oh my gosh, am I still dreaming or is this happening?
“Pinch me.”
A furrow appears between Logan’s brows. “What?”
“Pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.”
That’s all it takes. He pounces on me. “How about I do a lot more than pinch you?” he growls in my ear before dropping his lips and devouring my mouth. He nips my lips with his teeth. “This real enough for you?”
I can only moan in response.
“This real enough for you?” he slides a hand down from my neck to my breast and pinches my nipple in a way that sends a flood of wetness to my sex. “How about that?”
I arch off of the bed, a high-pitched “Yes,” on my lips. I don’t know if it's an affirmative to his question or and encouragement for him to do more.
Like the smart man he is, he takes it as both and then his hands are everywhere. Massaging. Pinching. Caressing. Teasing.
And I feel alive. So alive life is bursting from within me. I’m going to live. I’m going to live a long, full life full of laughter and Logan and happiness and love and—
Logan rolls us over in bed so that I’m laid flat on my back again, him over me like the devouring predator that he is.
But for once, he’s missing the vacant look of desperation that always used to hover like a cloud over him, like any second he was ready to bolt the second you betrayed him, always on guard and ready for it.
Now, though, when he looks down at me, it’s only with eyes full of love. Well, there’s a fair amount of lust, too, but it’s interwoven with love. And it’s the most powerful emotion I’ve ever felt coming from him.
I’m so consumed by it, that I almost don’t notice the shadow moving outside the window from the balcony.
Almost.
But Logan registers the stiffness of my body even before I’ve realized the shape of the shadow is a man.
And that man is holding a gun, pointed straight at us.
It’s Adam.
Adam’s on our balcony with a gun.
The thought barely registers before Logan is off the bed and charging the balcony’s double doors.
Wait—
How—?
No!
But there’s no slow-motion like in the movies. It all happens in the blink of an eye.
Logan explodes through the balcony doors that open outwards, knocking Adam off balance.
I scream as the gun goes off. “Logan!”
The covers of the bed catch around me as I try to get to my feet and I almost fall off the bed trying to get to Logan. By the time I right myself, Logan and Adam are wrestling on the narrow balcony.
Where’s the gun? Did Logan get shot? Does Adam still have the gun?
I run over to the doorway, looking for a vase or something else heavy to hit Adam with, but we’re in Logan’s bedroom in the castle and it’s spare, almost no decoration. How the hell did Adam even get up to the balcony? We’re three stories up. I know he does some free climbing but what the hell? And how the hell did he get here? I thought the police were going to arrest him.
By the time I grab Logan’s laptop, the heaviest thing I can find, and make it back to the balcony, the fight has escalated.
Adam and Logan are both back on their feet, squaring off, right as the clouds darken overhead.
“You stole everything from me!” Adam howls. He doesn’t look well. He’s in one of his fancy suits, but the shirt is buttoned off kilter and there are stains down the front of it.