Page 52 of Immortal Sins
Erron rubs his earrings between his index and thumb, and the twist of jade and amber rings a bell.
“You’re Beth’s old flame,” I say.
His eyes snap to mine. “How would you know that?”
The tremble of power rolling off him begs me to inch back, but I dig my toes into the plush carpet of the cabana and hold my ground. “Her ring had the same color-scheme as your earrings.”
“She wore my ring?” In that question, I see the first hint of weakness, the hunch of his spine deepening.
I chew on my bottom lip. I don’t want to outright lie, but it seems cruel and unnecessary to set the record straight. Who knows, maybe she did wear his ring.
He changes the subject. “You’re that half-demon baby girl.”
“You were the one that bound my powers,” I dead-pan, my mind piecing together Beth’s confidences with the reality of thisErron, the Fae shaman she used to love.
Cole refills both our glasses, hanging on every word.
Erron and I measure each other with tilted chins and thin lips. He finally sees me as something more than a piece of ass.
“She broke the curse and freed your powers. Why?” he asks.
I rap my fingers against the champagne flute. “Why not?”
He leans back in his chair, his legs spread on each side. “Hmmpf.”
“Are you a Desirys, or a Draco?” I ask.
Cole chokes on a mouthful of champagne.
“Don’t insult me, witch,” Erron hisses.
A Desirys, then. I play with the wide buttons of the trench coat, suddenly remembering that this man saw me in my birthday suit, his weirdly snug wool coat now wrapped around my shoulders.
Erron plucks the champagne from the ice bucket and points the slender neck of the bottle at Cole. “You just happened to marry the only half-demon witch in existence?”
Cole retrieves his pants from the platform and slides them up his legs. “I read the curse on her back and figured out what she was before she even knew herself.”
My brows furrow. “You want a medal for that?” I snap, half joking, half not.
Erron chuckles at my outburst. “I like her. A half-demon…might work.”
I size up the old warrior again. “There’s a legend that fallen unicorns can be brought back to life.”
He rubs the deep crow’s feet near his eyes. “Unicorns are peculiar creatures. They live for duty. For the good of many. No wonder they are almost extinct. The mermaid songs were a pretty metaphor for a long-forsaken, beautiful ritual. It’s a folks’ tale, nothing more. Elisheba is gone.”
“What kind of ritual?” Cole asks, sharp interest rising at the end of the sentence.
Erron gulps down another swig of champagne. “Nothing can bring someone back from the dead. Not the most powerful sorcerers in your realm—and certainly not Fae princes…” His gaze darkens, and he slams the empty bottle on the table, hard enough to crack it in two. The loud clink of broken glass tears through the air. “Enough pleasantries. Where is the horn?”
21
AFTERLIFE
“We should discuss this.” I skitter closer to Cole. My bare feet leave a wet trail on the polished hardwood floor. Blood-orange clouds filter the sunset’s dim light into the lodge.
“He’s my uncle. I trust him.” He barrels ahead without touching me, a first since we got married.
“He tried to skewer you.” I pat down my chest again to make sure my clothes are properly placed, still embarrassed that this mountain of a man saw me naked.
