Toward Immortal Ruin (The Immortal Accords #11)

3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

It was her. His mate.

Nero had waited centuries to meet the woman he’d seen in visions of his future, had planned out every meticulous detail of what he’d say and what he’d do. He had imagined their meeting thousands upon thousands of times and had yearned for it with every cell of his being.

He hadn’t been flustered and caught off guard in any of those fantasies. Or unprepared, splattered with blood, and wielding a battle axe. He could only blame his lack of imagination for not expecting a rabid wolf to attack his mate and take out a chunk of his leg, and then him being the one in need of rescue. She’d saved him—his mortal mate—with a briefcase and a heavy helping of sheer grit.

The moment he’d recognized who she was, he’d lost every ounce of his composure. His brain had short-circuited, and the all-powerful Raeth sovereign had forgotten how to breathe.

Eden was drop-dead gorgeous. Wide eyes, a startling shade of sea glass green, had taken his measure with intelligence and real-world honesty. Her perfectly curved, hourglass figure had taken away his breath—literally.

And mercy ; even her hair was fascinating. Despite the dark, he’d been besotted with the soft, beachy waves that framed her face, like coppery flames enhancing a goddess shrine.

He’d seen her face so many times in the visions Key had telepathically shared with him, but nothing had prepared him for meeting her in person. There was a warmth in her psychic signature that indicated the woman’s innate kindness. Nero had spent centuries reading people, and reading her—even unintentionally—was like sipping fine wine.

To think that he might’ve missed their meeting if he hadn’t heeded Key’s request … it made him sick. It had been too close a call, and Nero would’ve never forgiven himself if she’d gotten harmed.

He stood there, staring at the spot where she’d disappeared, for far too long. As he longed after the woman of his dreams, trying to control his panther’s instincts to find and protect her, someone clapped him on the shoulder.

“You take a few too many knocks to the head, sovereign?” Jeremiah rounded on him with a grin, but it faded as he took in Nero’s fixation. “You alright?”

Nero snapped out of it. “I’m fine. Just … I’m fine.”

Though it required every ounce of will in his body, he reined in the pulse of feline anxiety from his panther. He understood the need to seek out his mate and confirm she’d gotten home safely all too well. Nero couldn’t—he simply had to trust her word and refrain from stalking her through the streets.

“Sure, yeah,” Jeremiah said. “The wolves are all cleaned up—just in case you were wondering—and we can go now.”

Nero glanced over his shoulder, finding the rest of their immortal crew staring at him. Though a few of them were covered with their own blood, no one appeared to be seriously wounded.

Remmus grinned. “Find yourself distracted, friend?”

His grip tightened on his battle axe before he slung it over his shoulder. “A bit. All done here?”

“Yep.”

“Good.” Nero didn’t wait for Jeremiah’s confirmation before he teleported them both back to his clan lands. Though it was halfway across the world, the energy that suddenly blazed through him helped close the gap in his exhaustion.

He dropped the Elemental off with Zia and Myko before he teleported to Key’s doorstep. Hand poised to knock, Nero hesitated. After everything that had happened, he didn’t know what to feel or how to speak to Key about it.

The last year had been trying. Key’s requests had shifted from general guidelines to mandates and cryptic prophecies. Nero had grown frustrated with her—as had Zia—and they’d commiserated together more than once.

He realized now that Key may have seen their anger-fueled rants in her visions, and he was instantly filled with shame. He owed her an apology.

As if knowing he was done thinking, the door opened. Key’s smile was tight and tragic. “Hey Nero.”

“ Key .”

He’d engulfed her in a bear hug moments later. Pouring every ounce of regret and apology into his embrace, he knew that the clan bonds between them would convey the depth of his remorse.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

Another squeeze, and he pulled back. “I met her. In person. And she saved my life.”

“Quite the woman, isn’t she?” Key winked at him.

The foreseer led him inside, where she sat down with him in her family room. A manilla folder was sitting on the coffee table beside a book and a cup of tea. Though he glanced at it with feline curiosity, he wouldn’t steal it before he was given permission.

Key chuckled. “That’s for you, Nero. Go ahead.”

He leapt on the material with fervor. All of his mate’s publicly available information was listed in several documents, as well as information about her speaking engagement tomorrow.

“Key, this is—”

Emotion choked his words, and she picked up where he left off. “Her name is Eden Hawthorne. Tomorrow, you’ll go and see her at her one p.m. lecture, then you’ll stay afterward to speak with her.”

For Key, that was as blunt and straightforward as she’d ever been. It made him wonder how long the foreseer had known the information. “When did you find out who she was? How long have you known we would cross paths today?”

“Several weeks ago—but I only pulled her information today.”

Nodding, Nero tried to wrap his head around the fact that his mate was sharing the same planet as he was. It was overwhelming in the sweetest sense, and his emotions were running wild.

“Sovereign?”

“Yes?”

“You need to close down your clan bonds,” she said softly.

Nero inwardly cursed. The churning need for action and the uncertainty he felt would’ve translated through to his clansmen. Almost immediately, he placed a psychic restriction on the two-way transfer of emotions and turned it into a one-way valve that kept his mostly contained.

None of his clansmen needed to know about his fated mate until he’d truly met her himself.

“That’s hers.”

Key pointed to the book on the coffee table. Reverently, he picked it up and felt a wave of pride for Eden’s achievement. The hardbound tome was titled Gothic Fiction in the 19th Century, A Study in Fear and Haunting. He would happily spend the entire night reading it cover to cover.

“Her lecture tomorrow is on the evolution of vampires in popular fiction,” Key said smugly. “I honestly thought about going myself, but I won’t steal your sunshine. Please, take notes and report back.”

He gave her a sarcastic salute.

“Also,” she added, “one word: Blade.”

Despite the massive amount of paperwork still sitting on his desk, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to his office. After the world’s quickest shower to clean off the blood and muck, he started on the manilla folder’s worth of information, then researched his mate online for several hours. When he was satisfied that learning any more about Eden Hawthorne would launch him into stalker territory, he settled down in a comfortable chair and opened her book. He’d find out the rest directly from the source.

***

Anxiety was skittering beneath Nero’s skin. In the past, he’d always been the calming influence. Today, he experienced the stress firsthand, and it seemed like centuries worth of nerves had decided to manifest all at once. It was an odd sensation he’d barely begun to grasp. All at once, he wished his abilities extended to his own mind.

He’d arrived forty-three minutes before her speaking engagement and found himself flipping through her book once more. The subject was fascinating, for all that he had lived through the period she was studying. Reading through Eden’s academic take on how it had been remembered by historians and literary scholars was both beguiling and entertaining.

It’d been ages since he’d taken the time to read for pleasure and truly digest the content. Her book was a captivating read. While the subject matter was complex, her writing translated the ideas with simplicity and without clunky jargon. He paid close attention to every word, but she had made it easy to follow. He’d learned things about Gothic fiction he’d never contemplated before.

Having something to concentrate on also helped take his mind off meeting her again. There was so much riding on their time together, and he couldn’t afford to be misconstrued as too forward, nor come off as aloof.

About twenty minutes before the start, the seats began to fill up. His fingers drummed on the hardcover of her book, but there was no rhythm to it—just nervousness. Knowing that Eden Hawthorne was going to be in the same building as he was made him a ball of nerves.

The moment the clock struck one, Eden appeared onstage. His heart flipped. He hoped that she couldn’t see him beaming like a fool in the middle rows. He hadn’t wanted to be too close and distract her, otherwise he would have been front and center.

Looking up, she gazed out over the audience and started speaking. “Nosferatu, Dracula, Lestat.” She paused. “Edward Cullen.

“Though there are differing accounts of when vampires first appeared in fiction, they’ve all been united by one constant: the need to drink blood. This single, uniting factor is why we both villainize and romanticize these powerful immortal beings.

“Over the last few decades, vampire fiction has exploded. Other than the four I mentioned, name me a vampire from popular fiction.”

Nero’s answer was the first. “Blade.”

When Eden zeroed in on him, her smile was immediate. Even as the other names sounded, she held eye contact, and it seemed like a moment all to themselves.

“Bill Compton.”

“Angel and Spike.”

“Damon Salvatore.”

“All of these are examples of vampires who’ve been romanticized,” she replied. “Now, give me the names of vampires who’ve been demonized or villainized.”

The crowd responded with even greater enthusiasm the second time around, Eden skillfully transitioned into her lecture. Nero couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so enraptured by the speaker that he forgot to check in with his lieutenants or do a psychic sweep of the surrounding area.

Everyone around him was equally immersed. Before he knew it, it was nearing two o’clock and her lecture was quickly wrapping up.

“To some,” she began in conclusion, “vampires aren’t beings of myth and folklore. There are some fanatics and conspiracy theorists that believe vampires are real. You’d be surprised how many people believe that fiction is somehow true, and the supernatural world is more than a myth.”

She laughed, the sound echoed by the audience around them. Nero fought off the urge to roll his shoulders to ward off the sudden tension that had settled there. With any hope, that portion of her lecture was simply hypothetical.

In closing, Eden called for questions just before a thunderous round of applause. Nero’s hand was the first one to go up. She gave him a knowing look before nodding at him to ask. “Who is your favorite vampire from popular fiction?”

It was a softball question, but one he truly wanted the answer to. As she hummed in thought, he found himself waiting on the edge of his seat.

“I’d have to say Selene from Underworld,” she said. “She’s the perfect combination of femininity, fierceness, and strength. Love her to death.”

Nero dipped his chin in thanks, and she was quickly assaulted by tens more. Eden answered every question with the poise of an academic who’d seen her share of debates and dialogues, and he found himself impressed with her sharp wit.

As the room began to clear, Eden remained onstage. Several people had gathered while the room emptied, and Nero stayed behind as Key had instructed. If he was honest with himself, even if the foreseer hadn’t urged it, there would be no force—immortal or otherwise— that could’ve pried him from this room.

As soon as they were finally alone, he rose and went to greet her. “I see you’re looking well after an eventful night.”

“I managed to get home in one piece, thanks-very-much,” Eden replied, her grin even more stunning in the daylight. “I didn’t actually think I’d see you today.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“I guess. No axe needed, so that’s a good thing.”

He grimaced. “They might’ve tackled me at the door if I was still carrying that.”

“True enough.” She folded her papers into her bag. “Did you enjoy the lecture, or were you barely keeping your eyes open?”

He held up the notebook with his barely legible notes scribbled across the page. “I hung on every word. Someone could’ve poked me with a cattle prod while you were speaking, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed.”

“I’m kind of impressed. Most people just let it go in one ear and out the other.” Eden shrugged. “As a lecturer, you get used to at least one person snoring in your audience.”

“Is this what you do? Are you primarily a professor or a researcher?”

“My philosophical answer is that I’m a student of life. An eternal learner. But, if you’re being literal, I’m a travelling lecturer, on semi-sabbatical from my teaching job here at the University.”

“I’m not surprised at all that you teach. You’re a natural public speaker. I’ve only listened to you for an hour, and I was enthralled.”

“University classes are my favorite,” she explained. “Too many people believe they’re the hardest to teach, but I’d disagree. Unlike primary school, students actually want to be there, and they’re focusing on things that interest them . Plus, I know my courses like the back of my hand, and there’s nothing more rewarding that teaching to a class that’s engaged.”

“You’re remarkable, Eden.”

“Oh—ah, thanks.” She gifted him a radiant smile. “Come on, there’s a little coffee shop by the library that’s full of yummy things. Assuming you wanted to … you know, see more of me?”

“I’d love to see more of you.”

For a moment, time was still between them. Nero’s ability told him that she was caught between being flattered and suspicious, but the former was slowly winning out. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself that this was truly the first time they were meeting. Last night didn’t count. He still needed to play it safe.

“We can duck through the library on our way there,” she finally said. “It’ll keep us out of the cold.”

“Sounds wonderful. I used to read religiously,” he said. “But then life got in the way, and now I haven’t been in a library in ages.”

“That’s very sad, Nero. I’ll gladly remedy that gap of your education and entertainment.”

“I’d be very appreciative, professor.”

Several students called out greetings to Eden as they passed through the hallways, and as he’d expected, she was kind and engaging with all of them.

“So, what made you interested in Gothic fiction?”

“I grew up on Underworld and Blade, and when I lost myself in Anne Rice, I never really returned. From there, my love of the subculture only grew. Gothic fiction is a seriously underappreciated genre.”

“What, not paranormal romance?”

“Especially not paranormal romance. I’ve read more shifter and vampire books than I can remember. I think I’m over the whole ‘I, First Last, reject you, First Last, as my fated mate.’” She shook her head. “Barf.”

Nero chuckled. “No fated mates, huh?”

“I actually love that trope. I just hate the rejection part of it.”

A part of him breathed easier.

They entered the library side by side through the open double doors, and the smell of old books greeted them.

“There’s something about libraries I’ve always loved,” she admitted. “I’d love to say it’s the scholar in me, but I think it’s equal parts silence and solitude. Libraries are a perfect little corner of peace. No one can bother you here.”

A librarian shushed them from the front desk.

“Except the librarians,” Nero whispered.

Biting her lips, Eden nodded fervently. She pointed to a stack of books without speaking, then ducked down the row as Nero attempted to keep up. When the woman wanted to move, she was quick.

Once they were out of the hearing range of the front desk, she whispered, “Do you mind if I just pop over there for a second? Just wanted to check if they have a book that I’ve been lusting after.”

“Should I be concerned?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Absolutely not. It’s a fabulous book, but you have nothing to worry about. You’re gorgeous.”

“I’m flattered.”

Her eyes went wide. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

“Freudian slip?”

“Oh, definitely.” She turned her attention back to the bookstacks and took a long blissful inhale. His mate was adorable, and treated books like a puppy faced with a delicious treat.

“Back when I worked here full time, I’d spend hours among the stacks. Sitting on the floor, reading volume after volume. I was a real hip professor, lemme tell ya.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Nero’s grin faded. “Sounds like you enjoyed your job. Why did you go on sabbatical?”

Eden froze. “Oh. It’s complicated.”

The sudden fear and doubt in her psychic signature plunged Nero into confusion. One moment, he’d sensed the building warmness in her emotional state, and the next, it was like a wall slammed down behind her eyes. Being afraid of telling him the truth was one thing, but if her fear was of him, or someone at work who’d pushed her out or made her feel unsafe, it was a different story. Beneath his skin, his panther roamed forward, hissing in response to anything that made his mate uneasy.

Reading emotions could only go so far. Without the thought life behind them, it could leave Nero feeling groundless. Unsure how to interpret her reaction, he took her social cue nonetheless and let the subject go.

“What do you do, Nero? I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“I’m an architect by trade. But I confess, I dabble in a bit of everything.”

“Jack of all trades?”

“Master of none,” he finished, then beamed. “Well, would you look at this?”

Plucking a book off the shelf, he raised it in triumph. When Eden realized it was her book he’d found, she turned a vibrant red. His panther purred in approval, and he realized then that he was entirely lost for this woman.

Nothing would ever be the same again. His life was finally beginning .