Page 1 of Destined for Dreams
Chapter 1
Bartol
When a man has too much time on his hands, and he’s trying his best not to think of a certain troublesome woman in his life, he must find some sort of distraction. Over the last few weeks, while avoiding the aforementioned woman, Bartol had turned to an old hobby—one that came from a time before electricity and modern machinery—back in the days when a man used his bare hands and simple tools for crafting his work. And if he did a reasonably good job, he might even make a little money for his efforts. Carpentry had been his trade off and on for many centuries whenever he had the spare time or needed a little extra cash.
When Bartol had gotten the brilliant idea to start up his old hobby again, it had seemed simple enough. Build a table, some chairs, perhaps a desk—easy. Of course, he’d had to construct a workshop first since there was hardly enough space in his cabin, but that hadn’t been too difficult despite the cold Alaskan weather. And as a nephilim—half angel and half human—who’d lived more than eighteen-hundred years, Bartol had the strength of dozens of humans to speed up the process. It had kept him busy and helped keep Cori from his mind—the woman who’d become his bonded mate and then rejected him.
Bartol sighed deeply and ran a brush over the chair, staining the wood a deep russet color. It would be beautiful when it was done, maybe his best work yet. Working his way over the high back, similar to the Victorian style, he recalled what had first driven him to learn such a trade. It was, ironically, to impress women. He didn't impress them now, most especially his mate, with his scars and reclusive behavior, but at least the work served a more important purpose.
He’d discovered how much humans would pay for unique pieces, and he’d found someone in Fairbanks willing to sell the furniture for him to local customers as well as others across the country. The first piece he’d put on the market, a desk, had netted him over a thousand dollars. It was a start to rebuilding the fortune he’d lost while locked away in Purgatory for more than a century. If one must be confined as a prisoner for a long period, it was a bad idea to do it just before the economy went into shambles and a recession started. Most of his investments were lost, and he’d had no idea it was happening until it was too late.
So now Bartol was starting over and taking whatever jobs he could. The archangels were paying him a fair wage for his assistance in training a youngneroucrossbreed—Tormod—who had both angel and demon blood, as well as a little something else, but that job would run out in a few months. He needed to have something else in place before then.
Plus, Bartol didn’t want to rely on the archangels any more than necessary, especially since they were the ones who’d confined him to Purgatory in the first place and caused him to lose nearly everything. They might regret the severity of their punishment now that they knew he wasn’t as guilty as they’d thought, but it didn’t undo the damage. Bartol had been tortured both physically and psychologically during that time and scarred for life. He would never be the same man again, which was likely why Cori had rejected him. She had to see he wasn’t worth her time or energy.
A shuffling noise came from just outside the workshop. He’d almost missed it with the blowing wind hitting the walls and windows as yet another snow storm passed through. If not for a wood-burning stove nearby, it would have been freezing inside.
Bartol stiffened and slowly turned on his stool. Only a few people knew about this private escape deep in the woods, and none of them were expected. Tormod had the day off to spend with his mother, no friends had mentioned dropping by for a visit, and Cori had yet to discover his shop since he’d constructed the building well out of sight from his cabin, and he hadn’t spoken to her since before it was built anyway.
As the door slid open, a large, muscular figure appeared with snow swirling around him. His body blocked what little light was available on such a gloomy day as he entered the workshop. It took a moment for Bartol’s eyes to make out the chiseled features of his oldest rival and closest friend.
“Caius,” he said, standing. “It’s been a long time.” More than two centuries, in fact.
The older nephilim chuckled and moved forward to stand under the solitary light bulb hanging from the ceiling. “Too long.”
“How did you find me?” Bartol hadn’t exactly advertised his current whereabouts to the supernatural world, considering all he wanted was solitude since returning to Earth.
“Word travels, my friend, especially after what you did to get yourself thrown in Purgatory. People pay attention. You’re famous for pulling off that stunt and being allowed to live. When I found out you’d decided to settle in this frozen hell hole, I knew I had to come see you.”
Of course. Having carnal relations with an angel tended to get everyone’s attention, and Bartol suspected he might never live it down. Could that be another reason why Cori had rejected him? Was his past too much for her to handle, in addition to all the psychological damage that made it difficult for him to stand anyone’s touch, including hers?
“I didn’t expect to see you again. I thought you’d settled down for good with Willa.”
For a long time, he and Caius had chased after women together, making sport of it. In those days, Bartol had been renowned as the most handsome immortal on the planet. His sculpted face had been compared to Greek Gods, his golden brown hair silky and soft enough that women couldn’t keep their hands off of it, and his body was a sight that could make the nearest females weep and fall to their knees in front of him. He’d enjoyed every moment of it, relishing the attention like a fool who had no idea how little such things mattered.
The only male who had ever provided any real competition was Caius. He had chocolate skin, bulging muscles that gave the impression he could lift anything, a smooth, shiny head, and golden eyes that could penetrate the soul. The older nephilim came across him over a thousand years ago on an adventurous night in Rome. Bartol had just come from some battle or another in a distant land and was looking for a good time. Caius was already a renowned lover with centuries more experience and familiar with the local scene. He offered to show Bartol the city in exchange for a few fighting tips—a skill he’d been lacking in at the time.
It had been a perfect match. For the first few decades, they’d fought bloody battles in whichever war interested them—sometimes with other supernatural friends joining in—and then finished with wild nights at the nearest city. Eventually, for reasons Bartol did not wish to think about or discuss, they’d switched entirely to carousing and stopped fighting altogether.
This continued until two hundred years ago when Caius met a female vampire who grabbed his attention and wouldn’t let go. They fell in love and mated, using their fangs to mark each other and let all others know of their relationship status. In almost all cases, a mating was permanent and endured until one or both members died. Bartol had teased Caius unmercifully for falling so hard and fast with no way out, but he finally understood it now. He’d only hated to lose such a good friend and be left to his own devices. His life had gone downhill from there on out.
Eventually, after making a poor decision his friend would have stopped if he’d been there, Bartol was sent to Purgatory where he was tortured for a hundred years by a sadistic guardian with little else to do. The left side of Bartol’s face had a permanent burn scar that appeared mottled and half-melted. There was no fixing it and no easy way to live with it, either. Whenever people looked at him these days, they gasped in horror. Lust never even entered their minds the way it would have before.
Except for Cori—she’d been the first to see past the scars to the man behind them. If only she could have accepted his one demand that she become immortal so that they could live together forever. Bartol could not bear the thought of losing her to old age or a car crash or some sort of disease, but she could not understand that.
Anguish entered Caius’ eyes. “Willa was killed earlier this year by vampire hunters.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, truly sad that such a good woman was gone, and his old friend was resigned to a life alone.
The pain in Caius’ voice emphasized all that Bartol feared when it came to Cori. If Caius could lose his vampire mate, who had very few ways she could die, then a woman like Cori—who was mostly human—could be lost even more easily.
“It was my fault for not protecting my mate better.” The other nephilim’s jaw hardened. “It was dangerous after we came out to the world, and I shouldn’t have let her go out to feed alone.”
Bartol shook his head. “One thing I’ve learned is that a woman will only let you protect her so much before she starts to rebel. I’m certain you did what you could.”
Caius narrowed his eyes. “Rumor has it you’ve mated. Is it true?”
“It’s complicated.”
