Page 117 of The Guardian's Curse

Safira shook her head and deftly opened one of the bottles of champagne. “Unlike these brooding dicks, I’m here to celebrate,” she said. “Even if I didn’t get to participate, there was an epic ass-kicking. Alistair was king—”

“For less than three minutes,” Alistair said.

“And Shoshanna just did something none of us could have pulled off. And now Alistair can party with us again,” she said. “This is cause for celebration.”

“Hear, hear,” Paris said. They quickly distributed glasses of blood and champagne.

“To my mate,” Alistair said, eyes fixed on her. After they clinked glasses, he leaned in to kiss her lips.

When they all had full glasses, they retired to the living room and settled into the comfy couches and chairs. The house was even more beautiful with guests. Though most of them were only her acquaintances, if that, they were Alistair’s chosen family. It filled her with pride to see him among them, smiling and chatting.

“I hate to bring the mood down,” Julian said, setting his glass aside.

Paris rolled his eyes and said, “No, you don’t. You love to bring the mood down.” Safira chuckled, then hid her smile behind her glass.

The older man shot him a glare. “We must tell Lucia the truth.”

“What truth?” Shoshanna asked. They had taken Lucia to a vampire hospital to give her a thorough checkup. She hadn’t heard the final reports yet.

“That Kova is dead,” Julian said. “Eventually the excuse that he is travelling will wear thin.”

She cocked her head in confusion. “Kova was her soulmate, right?” Julian nodded. “He’s not dead.”

They were strangely silent, staring at her like she was a poor, helpless idiot. Alistair squeezed her hand lightly. “I assure you he is.”

“I assure you he’s not,” she replied. “Did you see him die?” He shook his head, and she scanned the gathered vampires. All of them frowned, glancing at the others. “Any of you?”

Julian set his glass down. “He left a note apologizing for leaving us,” he said. “And he left. We assumed he killed himself, an assumption that was borne out by his absence for more than a hundred years.”

“You assumed? Did any of you ever see his body?” she said archly. Their silence was the only answer she needed. “I used the soulmate bond to break the curse on Lucia. There was something on the other end of her fate thread.” They began to shift nervously, so she put up her hands. “I’m learning this as I go. There’s a chance I’m wrong, but—”

“If there is the tiniest chance you’re right, then you must give her hope,” Dominic said sternly.

“But if he’s not dead, where is he?” Safira said. “That would mean he lied and left us for over a hundred years. Why?”

Half a dozen pairs of red eyes turned to Shoshanna as she said, “That’s your drama, not mine. But I’ll do what I can to figure it out. I know you’ve all been through a lot, and I won’t promise something I can’t deliver. But I promise you that I’m going to do what I can to help all of you.”

There was a strange, fraught moment, eyes full of unspoken fears and hopes. Then Paris cleared his throat. “Well, I for one am glad that Alistair should be doing seventy-five percent less pouting than he has done for the last century.”

“Fuck off,” Alistair said with a chuckle.

“It’s true,” Safira said. “You have a lot of birthdays to catch up on.”

The tension passed, and the night eventually turned to nostalgia. They were almost like parents trying to embarrass Alistair, telling her stories of his silliest moments. He shut them up by playing the piano, eventually coaxing her to join. Though Alistair was clearly happy, she could see the deep longing behind his friends’ eyes as they saw him finally freed.

When their guests eventually left, she watched them driving away, headlights fading into the night. “I’m going to help them,” she said to Alistair, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He kissed the top of her head. “I know you are. Will you let me help?”

“Obviously,” she teased. “You’re my manservant.”

“Yes, I am,” he said. His hand slid down to pinch her bottom. “How may I serve, my lady?”

29

Twenty-nine days after his curse was lifted, Alistair Thorne had not yet tired of watching Shoshanna cross a room or pour a drink or do the most mundane tasks. He was increasingly certain that he never would. He was enchanted by the hypnotic rhythm of her steps and intoxicated by her warm scent. When he woke in the encroaching dark of twilight, he opened his eyes to a world where inexplicably, fate had chosen the most beautiful, brilliant woman in the world to be his beloved.

Though he had convinced Eduardo to not make an announcement of his return to court, it was clear that word had spread of the curse being broken. The ballroom of Eduardo's grand home was filled with the upper echelon of the Blade of Auberon. While dozens of them had flitted by the grand piano, where he had provided entertainment for the last hour, he had eyes only for Shoshanna, who always had one of his brothers at her side or on her arm. Though he knew none of them would dare seduce her, he still felt a flicker of jealousy when Paris touched her and prompted one of those delightful smiles.

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