Page 192 of White Raven
CHAPTER 40
FOREVERMORE
This place felt more like home than the one she’d shared with her mother. Waking up here was a dream. Months ago, they rode in a cab on a washout day, and every raindrop silhouetted on Athan’s face through the car window was a ghost of the tears he refused to shed, seeing his former home again for the first time in centuries. How could it not feel like home? They paid for an extended stay in a hotel fit for a king. The first taste of luxury either of them had experienced in such a long time. Poe was more than satisfied with his temporary home. It took a solid week being here before Athan was ready to venture out to old places to see if they were still standing. Sarah remained patient, drinking up the feel of starting over in a place that seemed to change her mate into a completely different version of himself—a version that she was beginning to fall so much deeper for.
They’d spent a full day sightseeing, and his fingers twined through hers as they stood in front of a dilapidated building that had been condemned. There were warning signs, and chains on every door. The roof had caved in a long time ago, and the rubble itself seemed haunted.
“Is this…” Sarah whispered, staring up at the unsturdy structure.
“Madame Olivia’s,” Athan smirked, following her line of sight. “The place I became…me.”
It had hit her like a fist to the heart. The way his body stiffened. The way his smile slowly faded. Every horrible memory probably replaying in that pretty head that made him feel like this was where his story started. It was about as bad as that dusty leather ledger that Patrick’s mother had found in that desk in Boston.
“That’s never been what makesyou, Athan.” A chilly wind rattled branches of nearby trees, and she’d turned toward him, sliding both arms around his waist. “I bet there’s a different place around here that you can find that guy.”
His brows lowered, and those ice blue eyes tore into her soul. “What guy?”
“That…guy.What was his name? Nathaniel?”
He audibly swallowed and tears threatened to line those piercing eyes as he softly shook his head. “I think that guy’s been dead for a long time, love.”
“No…no he hasn’t.”
Madame Olivia’s shitty brothel was scheduled to be demolished later that month. Sarah had made damn sure of it. They spent the short remainder of winter enjoying London, and one not-so-special day, while they were eating outside a small cafe, and enjoying the first warmth of spring, Athan eyed a very dated, gorgeous building across the street.
“If you’re about to tell me I need to tear that bitch down too, it might actually sting a little bit,” Sarah smiled, wiping her mouth after taking a bite of areallydamn good sandwich. Athan turned his face towards her, and that smile was as bright as the sun beaming off of his raven black hair. Every tattoo left to swoon over by that tight-fitting black t-shirt, and his ripped jeans made the sandwich taste a bit dull. Sarah wondered if there would ever be a time she didn’t want to bite into this man and be forever sustained.
“Wanna go see it?” he asked, those eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Can I bring my sandwich?”
He chuckled under his breath and laid cash on the little table, scooching his chair back across the cobblestone patio. “Nope.”
Sarah crammed the rest into her mouth and took his hand as they crossed the busy street, and the closer they got to this place, the bigger it seemed. There were people everywhere…people in…wigs.
“You know,” she started, pausing at the steps. “When I said I wanted to put a wig on you, this isn’t…what I meant.”
Athan laughed, and the sound would honestly never get old. “Don’t think I could pull it off?”
“What is this…a theater?”
He shook his head and tugged her hand forward. Sarah found herself slowly realizing where they were. Her heart started pounding. These weren’t actors. This wasn’t a theater. These werelawyers. This was acourthouse.
She took in every inch of the interior as they walked through, gawking at the architecture. When they stopped in front of an office, Athan turned her to face him, and took both her hands.
“We’ve loved with a love that was more than love, Sarah St. James. I’m gonna ask you one more time, and then hopefully never again…nevermore.”
Sarah wondered if her sternum could take the thrashing that that fleshy muscle was giving it, and she swallowed down her father’s immortal words. Athan rested his head against hers, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Ask me then, detective,” she whispered.
“Marry me?” Athan choked out, gripping her hands. “Today…right now.”
His voice was desperate, and the edge to it made her muscles weak. “You know…we’ve got an eternity to do this.”
“Maybe we do, and I don’t fucking care. You were right. She didn’t make me.Youdo. I’m not waiting another minute for it. The next place I wanna take you…I wanna take you as mywife.” His breathing kicked up, and his fingertips grazedher cheek. “I wanna go homewhole, Sarah. And I’m not whole without you.”
Sarah felt a knot gather in her throat, and she looked down at their simple, normal appearance. They were anything but. It made it all the more perfect. This was why he’d waited so long to figure out if the little house he lived in with his mother was still there. Why he’d waited a lifetime to get back here, and hadn’t tried to venture to that part of Old London at all. He wasn’t whole yet. Neither was she. And it didn’t take an expensive white dress, or a chapel full of loved ones to have it. He was all she needed. Old London felt like home because hewashome. Walking through that door was going to be a testament to leaving that old life behind and acknowledging that even if that house was a pile of old wood and stone…he was the only four walls she’d ever need.
Sarah thought back to the first moment she’d spotted him in that club. The glow of that cigarette lighting up beneath that hood and showing the mouth that would claim her hours later, and change her entire perspective on life. About a black bird that bound them together. A tattoo. A line from a poem written ages ago by a man that never knew just how complex and incredible this story would be. A story he indeed helped write. A story she’d finish. Thatthey’dfinish…together. Her voice was hoarse with tears.
