318
Tony
“You’re actually a psycho?” She asked. Then, tilted her head. “Or you’re running from the supernatural mafia.”
I snorted. “Not quite… though Matt might argue that our father is more of a mafioso than an alpha.”
“I stand by my statements: he’s a psycho, and he should have been left to rot in jail for the rest of his unnatural life.”
She turned off the blow dryer and hummed, looking into the mirror. “Well, don’t hold back. What is it that’s got you looking like the world is going to end?”
The confession churned in my gut like lave.
"Ginevra," I choked out, the word a rough rasp against my dry throat. "About Lucy…"
Her head snapped towards me, eyes wide with surprise. "Tony, don't. Not now."
My eyes widened. “You’ve… heard about Lucy? From Matt?”
“What does Matt have to…” She frowned. “Never mind. Why don’t you just get it off your chest before you combust.”
I winced. “I…”
“Don’t back out now,” she said, her gaze searching my face. “Remember it or not, I’ve told you some dark shit. Whatever this is, it probably isn't even nearly as dark as half of that, so why do you want to tell me… whatever you want to tell me about Lucy, now?”
The air thickened, suffocating. Why now? The question echoed in my head, mocking me. When else was I supposed to tell her? I couldn't hold it back anymore, and who knew what was going to happen tonight?
"I need to tell you," I whispered, preparing for the inevitable storm. "For us. For Quillan. Because… Because I’m not sure what’s going to happen next."
Her silence was more terrifying than any scream. Every muscle in my body tensed, bracing for her anger, her disappointment. It was obvious that she knew something, maybe not everything, but she knew.
Then, her voice, surprisingly gentle, cut through the tension. "What do you remember, Tony?"
I blinked, caught off guard. The memories sloshed around in my mind, tainted in some ways and unsteady in others. I could taste her skin. I could see her face, her fear, her worry, the vacant stare she’d get as if she’d just slipped away. Shame burned hot in my throat, but I pushed through it.
“Enjoying it,” I choked out. “Starving for it…”
Like a beast. The more I had, the more I wanted. Matt had been the same way. It made my skin crawl to think about it now.
The silence was absolute. I stole a glance at Ginevra, my gaze settling on the grim set of her jaw. Had I destroyed everything?
"Tony," she finally said, her voice low and controlled. “What else?”
I shook my head. “It’s… all… I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Why did you feel the need to tell me now?”
I frowned, looking at her, searching for the anger I expected, the disgust and judgment.
Relief washed over me, mingled with confusion. "You're not… upset?"
Her lips curved into a humorless smile. "Upset? At you? No. You can’t even remember me in full. Your mind is compromised. It may never make you feel better about any of this, but it’s the truth.” She took my hand. “And honestly, you can’t even begin to heal from this, to accept it or move past any of it until it’s done and over with. So, yeah. I’m pissed because you’re probably going to turn into a damn nun for a while, but I’ll be fine.”
She smirked. “I have been for three years, after all.”
My eyes widened at the admission, but I didn’t ask for confirmation.
“Yes. That’s exactly what that means. You owe me. A lot. Not just for the baby, though he is adorable. For now, just know that I’m pissed, but not at you.”
She turned back to the mirror and started moisturizing her face. “I trust there’s some fancy-ass lingerie around? You were always too good at picking out my clothes…”
I smiled, shaking my head as I went to get the box. She slipped into it and wiggled her eyebrows, leaning back against the sink and posing.
“Good enough to eat?”
I smirked, hearing that question from the back of my mind. “Delicious.”
She winked. “I expect to be eaten like a damn feast. Soon. Put that at the top of your list and on the menu.”
“Higher than Power Rangers?” She hummed, drawing me to her and wrapping her arms around my shoulder.
“No. Definitely not, but after that. Definitely before Christmas.”
She pulled me down to kiss me. It felt like a balm, easing every bit of tension out of me. She wasn't abandoning me, not yet. But the echo of the compulsion, that insidious hunger, still gnawed at the edges of my mind.
"Ginevra," I said, pressing my forehead against hers.
“Every time you do that, you’re about to freak out. What is it?”
“The compulsion… it’s not gone,” I met her gaze. “She’ll be there tonight, and I don’t know what will happen… Promise me that if I start acting strange, you’ll run. You’ll go to Matt. He’ll look after you.”
A scoff escaped her lips. "Protect who, you goof? More likely the other way around. But rest assured, there’s someone else in mind that can expect to run. I have a glowing spear with her fucking name on it.”
My chest tightened, a laugh bubbling up despite the tension. I kissed her again, unable to help the way it rushed through me and how absolutely right it felt.
“Now, show me this dress.”
I chuckled, pulling her out of the bathroom. “Couldn’t find any leather, but I think you’ll like it.”
I pulled out the bag and unzipped it. She gasped and bounced on her toes.
"We’ll match!”
I chuckled. “You sound like Quillan.”
“I take that as the highest compliment,” she said. I pulled the dress out. It was a sultry gold thing that had caught my eye in a hidden boutique in Black Moon. The pure, unguarded joy on her face made me grin. She slid into it. I zipped her up. The fabric fluttered and whispered over her like molten gold. Her hair started to glow, casting more light on it. She reached out, and the red-gold band that had once been members of Blue Moon slipped up her arm. She turned quickly.
“Well?”
"You are…" I whispered, my voice thick with awe.
“Photo ready," she finished, her eyes blazing with joy. “Into the monkey suit, handsome. We’ve got plans with a fancy ballroom.”
* * *
The city lights painted the road ahead in a kaleidoscope of colors as I drove toward the venue. My knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel. Ginevra sat beside me, a beacon of warmth. Her scent filled the cabin, and it was enough to make me feel like everything might actually be alright. I slipped out. The valet helped Ginevra out. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. She winked, and I shook my head. I snagged her hand, twining our fingers together.
“Behave yourself.”
“This is behaved.” She chuckled, walking in with me.
The grand hall of the Crescent Moon Festival Ball unfolded before us. It was grander than years before, but it hadn’t been held in Hecate since I was a kid, before the fall of the White Moon Pack. Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the vaulted ceiling, their facets ablaze with celestial fire. Velvet drapes, the color of midnight, swayed in the breeze sweeping through the open doors and windows. And amidst the shimmering scene, I looked at Ginevra. Her eyes were bright.
“I… once promised to bring you to a gala, didn’t I?”
Her eyes widened, soft with hope. “Yeah… And you did. I got us kicked out.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
She nodded. “I broke a man’s hand when he grabbed my ass.”
My face burned. “I’m almost certain you didn’t tell me that.”
“Definitely not,” she said. “To be fair, you were about to punch someone, too. Something about what he said about me.”
I huffed, wishing I could remember. I led her through the crowd, exchanging nods with people as we passed. Then, I saw Matt.
He looked different. There was a glowing mist around him. More than that, his suit was like something out of a very old history book, including the armor. He was armed. Was that normal?
As I recalled, the only people who showed up armed were people from Blood Moon. He was standing with the nurse from Yellow Ridge and talking with people I recognized as elves on sight.
“Who are the crazy beautiful people?”
“Elves.”
“Like Tolkien?” I snorted. “You know who that is, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “And… well, yes.”
A champagne flute materialized in Ginevra's hand, courtesy of a flitting waiter. I followed suit, the icy bubbles a welcome against the tightening knot in my gut. The Ball hummed with an unseen energy. I spotted Peter. His usual roguish smile was in place, but he seemed to be absolutely glowing. I didn’t recognize the woman on his arm, but she was lovely and seemed just as enthralled with him as he seemed to be with her.
Maybe Peter had found his mate.
Then, I went stiff. I turned slowly, and my gaze fell on Oren. He was staring at me. His expression was hard and furious. Beside him was a woman I barely recognized. She was pale and cowering at his side. She bore an uncanny resemblance to my mother, and it made me sick.
Eliza was still in the hospital as her wounds didn’t respond to magical healing.
Oren's eyes met mine, and a flicker of hatred went through them. His jaw clenched, his fists fisted, but before he could take a step, the fanfare erupted.
David was about to make his entrance.
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