Page 43 of Promised in Blood

“So you don’t regret it?” Her voice is small and quiet, everything she should never have to be.

I shake my head. “Not for a fraction of a heartbeat. I would choose you in every single lifetime, little one. Every single one.”

She melts into my arms, nestling into me until her body molds perfectly to mine. Until I cannot be sure where she ends and I begin.

After a few moments, she hops up and grabs my hand. “Time to go decorate the tree that Kai picked out for the den. It’s huge!”

I bite back a laugh and follow her from the room. In all my years on this earth, I have never decorated for a holiday. When I had a family to celebrate with, the traditions were vastly different. However, when Ophelia revealed that she had only celebrated Christmas one time, five years ago, I allowed the boys to convince me we should do all in our power to make this year special for her. I try not to give too much attention to the notion that it may be the last peaceful Christmas she will know for a long time.

Instead, I recall the childish delight on Malachi’s face earlier when he proudly declared he was going to choose the largest tree on the lot. Axl and Xavier rolled their eyes at his exuberance, but they were unable to hide their own excitement. Ophelia Hart has already brought such joy to our lives—so much that I cannot even bring myself to be mildly annoyed by the fact that I am about to spend several hours hanging tinsel and garland.

Chapter

Seventeen

ALEXANDROS

“Thank you for meeting with me again, brother.”

Giorgios arches one thick eyebrow. “I have seen more of you these past three months than in the last three decades, Alexandros.”

He is not wrong, and sooner or later, someone else will notice that too. A weary sigh escapes me, and he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Nobody knows about my coming here. We are safe here in these walls.” He glances around the faculty library.

I nod before dropping into the armchair. He sits opposite, hands clasped between his spread thighs, and his eyes staring into mine. “Is it about the girl? I have not yet discovered any more information about her past. It has only been a little over a week since you asked me, brother.”

“If the information were easy to come by, I would already have it. I do not expect answers immediately.”

He tugs at the shirt of his collar and rolls his neck. “Then has something happened with her powers?”

“No. I have not summoned you here to discuss Ophelia.” I scrub a hand over my face.

He leans forward, his concern evident in the wrinkling of his brow. “Then what?”

The bitter memory of betrayal clogs my throat, stealing my words and my breath. I drop my head into my hands, willing my emotions to not betray me. Not now, after all these years.

“Alexandros, please.” Giorgios’s worried voice washes over me.

I swallow everything down and suck in a deep, raspy breath before I lift my head again and force myself to look him in the eye. “Lucian is alive.”

His eyes narrow, and his blue irises darken. I have no need to feel our bond to experience the rage that seeps out of his pores at the mention of my son’s name. “What?” he barks, the single word sounding like an accusation.

“He is alive.”

He snarls, his shoulders drawing up toward his ears. “You have seen him? Spoken with him?”

Guilt and regret snake their way through my chest. How could I have gone all these years without knowing that my own son was alive? I should not have been so quick to assume him dead. I should have tried harder to find that truth for myself. That I did not eats away at my insides. “No.”

“Felt him?”

I shake my head. “I only wish that I had.”

His features twist in confusion. “Then how is it you know he is alive, brother?”

I take a moment to stem the raft of emotions that learning of Lucian’s survival has stoked within me and carefully consider my choice of words. It is not yet clear why I was suddenly able to breach the veil between the mortal realm and the netherworld. Nor do I know whether this is a temporary state of affairs. And until I learn more about why this has happened, I will share it with nobody other than Ophelia and the boys. “I just know that he did not die. Trust me on this.”

“But you felt his death.” His scowl deepens. “I felt your pain at his loss, not that he was much of a loss to this world.” Each word is clipped, dripping with the full force of his ire.

“No matter what he did, Giorgios, he was—he is still my son.” I fight the growl that wants to seep into my voice, determined to control my own anger. “Watch your tone when you speak of him.”

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