Kresley Cole - Dark Needs at Night's Edge

"Of course, you are," he'd said, gathering her into his arms and spinning her around until she was forced to smile. "What else could you be?"

The morning after her embodying, Néomi had woken to the sound of hammering. Conrad had taken his task of restoring Elancourt very seriously. But once she was well on the road to recovery, his labors were hindered by the fact that she found his sweat-slicked body irresistible.

Whenever she came upon him with his shirt off and his muscles all hot and lathered, she had to have him. "I'm back to normal," she'd informed him. "And normal for me is quite lusty." He'd declared himself "eagerly at your service."

One day she'd found him in the studio, but hadn't thought he'd heard her. She'd gazed at him with pride and a desire so strong it had left her shaken.

As he'd lovingly oiled the mahogany barre, he'd said, "I'll see you dance here." His voice had been husky, as if he was imagining it even then. "I'll watch you for hours, then I'll taste your damp skin."

They hadn't made it even close to getting to the bed... .

His care had made her long to dance again, to use this studio as she'd never been able to. Once she'd gotten stronger, she'd begun practicing again, her love for it undimmed by time.

Néomi could never take the stage again, but she'd decided to open a Lore ballet school. There was not a single one in existence, and she'd been heartbroken to learn that many Lore children—with their horns and wings and siren screams—couldn't attend human classes.

When she'd asked Conrad what he thought about the idea of a Néomi Wroth School of Dance, he'd said, "If it makes you happy, then enroll every Lore pup who's willing to wear pink." Scratching his head, he'd added, "Though I'll need to figure out how to expand the studio... ."

Conrad stirred then—but not from a nightmare. Once he'd turned to her, she smoothed the backs of her fingers over his cheek, and he resumed sleeping deeply. Nightmares were rare these days.

Though he'd been apprehensive about taking her blood again, that one bite had already transferred her memories to him. Néomi had feared hers would be the ones that would send him over the edge, breaching the dam. Yet they actually seemed to be helping him. "I dream of music and laughter and warmth," he'd told her. "It's... soothing to be in your memories. Awake, I'm with you. And asleep, I'm with you. I like this."

She knew he wasn't yet cured. It would take time. She just wished she had even more time with him. Given a new chance at mortality, she'd become greedy for immortality.

Life held so much promise....

Except for the fact that she had no idea what she was.

Sometimes when she looked in the mirror, or if she caught her reflection in a window, she saw glimpses of her spectral self. The shadows around her eyes and under her cheekbones would appear in flashes.

Her night vision was as flawless as it had been when she'd been a ghost, and when she slept, she dreamed of floating and moving things with her mind.

This twilight, Néomi had awakened with a rose petal clutched in her fist... .

Nïx had visited Néomi on several occasions. Each time, the Valkyrie blatantly scrutinized Néomi with those golden eyes, seeming fascinated. Just yesterday Nïx had come to Elancourt and said nothing, only blankly staring at her.

"Nïx, what am I?" Néomi finally asked her.

"Complicated?"

"I came back wrong, didn't I?"

Nïx sighed. "I can't get a sense of you whatsoever."

Néomi had no sense of her own self. She didn't feel as she had when human—or as a ghost.

Awkward doesn't begin to describe this meeting.

"Have a seat. Please," Nikolai said, waving to one of the chairs in front of his office desk. Sebastian occupied the other.

Conrad had traced to Blachmount Castle, Nikolai's home, to meet with his brothers—at Néomi's insistence. It was day in New Orleans, and she'd wanted to nap for the afternoon, so he thought he'd get this over with.

His brothers had questions about the past—and Conrad wanted to formally purchase Elancourt from Nikolai.

With his neck knotted with tension, Conrad reluctantly sat. He was already on edge from leaving Néomi for the first time since her return, but being back here made his uneasiness ratchet to another level.

"I thought all three of you would be here," Conrad said. "Where's Murdoch?" He would leaven this tense atmosphere.

"Missing in action," Nikolai answered. "We presume it's concerning his 'secret' Bride. I think for the first time in his existence, he's having woman troubles."

"Might do him some good," Sebastian said, then asked Conrad, "Does it not feel surreal to be back here?"

He nodded. This castle was where Conrad and most of his family had died. His young sisters had wept here as they'd succumbed one by one. Blachmount was where Conrad had been born and raised—and raised from the dead.

For three hundred years, Conrad had hated Nikolai for his decision that fateful night. Now Conrad was beholden to him for Néomi. Without Nikolai's choices and Murdoch's determination, he would never have known his Bride. He would never watch her readying for bed, brushing her long hair.

Just yesterday, he'd thought, My Bride by fate, my wife by choice... .

"I felt the same way when I first returned," Sebastian said.

Nikolai made a scoffing sound. "No, you didn't—you were too busy decking me."

"The second time, then."

Uncomfortable silence ensued. Conrad peered around the paneled study. Nikolai tapped a pen against his desktop. Sebastian jogged his leg.

Eventually, Nikolai rose from his chair. "I have something of yours." He pulled a file from a cabinet, handing it to Conrad. Inside were the deed to Elancourt and the contracts of transferral.

"I signed the property over to you and your Bride the night you got her back."

Conrad's tension cranked up even more. "I can pay you for it."

"It's technically Néomi's anyway, right? Consider it a wedding gift."

Conrad hated feeling beholden. "Wait." He traced to Elancourt. There, he checked on Néomi, tugging her blanket higher with a kiss. Then he snagged a bottle of whiskey from the crate. She'd suggested bringing one, but Conrad had gruffly declined. Now he returned to Blachmount and gave it to Nikolai.

Nikolai brushed off the label. "My God, this is... this is... "

"As good as you're imagining," Conrad finished for him.

Sebastian wasted no time, rising for snifters from the sideboard. "Then stop staring at the bottle and let's drink it!"

They did. Two hours later, Conrad decided that speaking to his brothers with roughly twenty thousand dollars' worth of whiskey in his belly wasn't so awkward.

When Nikolai and Sebastian wanted to know what had happened to Conrad in the past three centuries, he told them. When they asked about Néomi, he found himself proudly relating his wife's accomplishments. "You've never seen a woman dance as she does. And she'd bought that property by herself—an unmarried woman in her twenties." Even to himself, his tone sounded impressed.

"Chains, drugs, and brute force couldn't control Conrad," Nikolai began in an amused tone, "but a tiny ballerina is domesticating him with ease."

"What are you going to do about her mortality?" Sebastian asked.

"Search for a way to make her immortal." When they gave him uneasy expressions, Conrad said, "I know the odds, but that's a more likely scenario than me following wherever she would go after death." Conrad finished his drink, then contemplated the bottom of his glass. "Do you not think of our sisters when you're here?"

Nikolai and Sebastian shared a speaking glance.

At length, Nikolai said, "We're bringing them back. We have the means to retrieve them from the past. Not to change history, but just to return with them to this time."