Page 63 of Inevitably Yves

“I know. I think I just need to sit down and sort my thoughts for a moment.”

“Of course,” Damiano says. “If it helps, your calmness is helping me. I want to tear the doors off the hinges, find him, and cut his heart out. I want it almost as much as I want another day with you. In fact, you are the only thing keeping me here and logically handling this threat.”

“I know. I can feel you.”

“Then you know how I long to see his lifeless eyes fixed on us. The last thing he sees will be us, united in love.”

He puts my hand over his heart and sends me images of us surrounding Hadrian.

Damiano uses a dagger to carve out our maker’s heart, his screams music to both of us. He hands me the dagger, and the images are so vivid, I sway in time to every plunge into Hadrian’s chest before I sever his neck.

“You will die so we may live,” I whisper to a whimpering, dying Hadrian.

When I snap out of it, Damiano holds me close, kissing the side of my head. “It will happen, my love. Soon. He’ll pay for every evil thing he’s ever done, and with his final breath, he’ll witness what love really is. It’s us, Yves. We are love.”

His words seep into my soul, strengthening my resolve. “Yes. Thank you.”

Sitting once again, I close my eyes, replaying the image of a dead Hadrian at my feet. That’s what will get me through this. I’ll hold on to this image until it’s a reality and this nightmare is finally over.

TWENTY

Damiano

My skin feels too tight, constricting, and I desperately want to climb out of it. I want to leave this club and find Hadrian, and when I do, I want to tear him apart with my bare hands. The only thing keeping me here, and calm on the surface, is the stoic strength of my lover. He doesn’t need to add my explosive nature to the chaos around us. Especially not after witnessing what happened to Lucinda.

Sitting here inside this darkened club that smells like death and evil isn’t the right thing to do though. I just wish I knew what was. Fortunately, I don’t have long to ponder that as the front doors open and Thorn enters with his mate, Midnight, and Tru right behind him. Thorn’s expression is pure rage, and his body vibrates with it.

Yves is out of his seat, wrapping his arms around his angry brother, but Thorn pushes back gently. “I’m okay, Yves,” Thorn says. “I mean, I’m pissed, but I’m okay.”

“What happened?” Yves asks. “What did you find out?”

“He wasn’t trafficking,” Thorn says, his voice steady and cold. “He was building an army right under our noses.”

“Who?” I ask. “What army?”

Thorn’s hard gaze shifts to me. “The Admiral. Maybe you should hear it for yourself. There’s a vampire in silver chains outside.”

“Dude,” Eros whispers. “Silver chains hurt regular vampires.”

“We didn’t do it,” Midnight says. “We found him like that. He doesn’t want them removed. Come outside. You’ll understand more.”

We follow Midnight’s lead and exit the club again to find a vampire propped against a concrete pillar. He turns his head sharply in our direction, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on first Yves and then me. His nostrils flare and he visibly twitches the closer we get.

“What is your name?” Yves calmly asks.

“Hemsley,” the vampire answers, twitching and even briefly hissing. “You are the one,” he says, studying Yves’s face with his cloudy eyes. “He told us you were the most beautiful thing he ever created.”

He has a deep accent. Australian, I think. He’s very pale, with almost translucent skin and crystal blue eyes, his hair short and white. It’s hard to know if he looks like this because of the silver or if it’s normal for him.

Suddenly, his gaze turns on me. “You,” he says softly. “He wasn’t sure you still lived, but he said we would know it was you on sight because your scent is like a garden of wildflowers in paradise. He said you smell like the sunshine, and if you were with number one, your scent would be euphoric.”

“Hadrian told you this?” Yves asks.

“I don’t know anyone named Hadrian. The Admiral told me.” Hemsley blinks his eyes erratically, as if they operate individually and he’s having trouble controlling them. “The Admiral is very old, very wise, and he hates you both. Like, really hates you.”

Yves’s eyes widen as he looks at Thorn. “The Admiral is…” His brow creases. “No.”

Thorn nods, his hands still balled up in fists while his mate strokes his arm. “The Admiral is no mafioso. He is your maker, and he’s been stealing people from our city to turn them into vampires for the purpose of destroying you.”

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