Page 70 of Inevitably Yves

“What happened, Yves?” Damiano asks, drawing me back to the present.

“I tried to love him. He was a vain man, and when I told him I could keep him young and beautiful forever, he wholeheartedly accepted my gift.”

“Hades,” Raphael mutters, wrapping his arms around Haven. “I forgot how much I hate him.”

“Yes, well…” I close my eyes for a moment. “Marcello became one of us, but it still wasn’t enough for him to give me his heart. He kept me just outside of his reach.”

“He didn’t love you?” Damiano asks incredulously.

“Not truly. He loved the life I gave him. He loved the luxury and my attention. My devotion.”

“And gods, how he used it,” Syn says.

I nod, continuing. “My brothers were suspicious of him. We worried about where his loyalty lay. I so desperately wanted to believe he was mine. Eternally mine. But I was wrong.”

“What would you give up for me, Marcello?”

He gazes down at me as he sits naked on my lap after lovemaking. “Why questions like this? Is something wrong?”

“No, but something could always go wrong. Who knows what could happen next.”

“Do you not trust me, Yves? You sleep beside me, but do not trust me?”

“I trust you.” Lifting his hand to my mouth, I brush my lips over his knuckles. “But would you die for me?”

He searches my eyes. “You would die for me?”

“For any of you in this coven.”

“So I am not special?”

“Do I give my body to anyone but you?”

His eyes narrow. “Thorn has had it. They all have.”

“Hundreds of years ago. My coven is my family, and I love them. My love for you is different and you know it.”

“You know I love you, Yves.”

“How much?”

“I am here, am I not?”

“Where would you be if not with me?”

The air around us cools as Marcello adjusts himself on my lap. I am making him uncomfortable, but after fifty years together, I am within my rights to ask these questions.

“What do you want of me?” he finally asks.

“Everything.”

“I gave you my soul. Isn’t that enough?”

He pulls his gaze away, pressing his forehead to my shoulder. I rub his back, hearing his unspoken answer in my soul. Marcello is always first to Marcello. I am, possibly, second. I suppose I should be happy enough. He sleeps in my bed, fulfills my every sexual desire, and generally dotes on me. I gave him immortality. I guess I could not expect he would give it up to save me if necessary.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“No need to be. May our love never be tested.”

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