Desdemona ripped open the letter from her family and read the hand-written contents. Her father said that everything was fine back at the compound and that the children missed her. Everyone hoped that she would find her match and be happy. He reminded her to contact them as soon as she relocated.

The letter also included several drawings from the children. Desdemona looked through the crayon and watercolor artwork and frowned. Even after months at the temple, she still resented that her father had forced her to come here. She was learning more magic every day and had learned a lot about her music. It was beyond anything she could have imagined back at the compound. But despite all the things she was learning, it came at a heavy price.

Last month, she had been chosen for the mating ritual. She was presented to a hundred different men, vying for her attention. She’d had many offers, but had refused them all, knowing that she had one chance to say no.

Those were the rules of the temple. Each month six women were chosen at “random” from a hat to be part of the mating ritual. She had one chance to say no, and she’d taken it just last month.

She hoped it would buy her some time. There were women at the temple like Bridget who had not been in a single rotation for years. The choosing hat was enchanted so that only women who were in some way destined by probability to find a suitable match would be drawn upon. But when Desdemona had met the many men who’d come to the temple to win her hand, she hadn’t been impressed.

It wasn’t that the immortals weren’t attractive. Far from it. They were godlike in their beauty and grace. So much so, it creeped her the fuck out. Who were these people anyway?

Everything she’d learned in the temple’s computers and from her classes in ancient Earth history told her a story that had never been told before. A hundred thousand years ago, the Elder Godfathers had come to the planet and created the three immortal races with the Earth Goddess Gama. Or so they said.

Desdemona wasn’t sure what she should be angrier about. The fact that she had been lied to all her life, or that she could be being lied to now. She decided she didn’t believe any of the stories. Even though she had been having strange dreams since the first day she had discovered her magic.

The dream had been of two men. One was a dragon and one was a vampire. She knew them both well. But it was the dragon she wanted. He was a distant, sometimes cold man. But the vampire had been her friend and treated her like one. He loved her, but she just didn’t love him back.

She knew it was all just a dream, right? She’d been taught at the temple that she was an ancient witch who had been reincarnating again and again in a human body for the last two thousand years.

Yeah right.

It all sounded so silly, like some teen paranormal romance movie. But the dreams she was having didn’t lie. She’d had them since the first day she discovered her magic. Every time, she dreamed of the same two men. The dragon with silver-blue eyes and the vampire with the wicked grin.

She didn’t want either of them.

The temple would allow her to leave at any time. They just couldn’t give her more than a few supplies and a gun, which was pretty nice of them when she thought about it.

She’d been training at the temple for three months and had discovered there were many different types of magic. Arch-Priestess Lucia was an Arcane mage. She could gather arcane power inside her body and then use it as direct weaponized energy. It could also be used for healing.

There were witches who worked with water, and witches who worked with the earth. Desdemona used music for her magic, which was rare. She’d learned it was a very specific form of air magic. She’d even started to learn how to use just her voice to control the magic.

While she did enjoy her training, the ever-present awareness that she could be expected to marry some man at the next mating ritual hung heavily over her head. It was like a noose around her neck. The anxiety constantly gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Desdemona was a young woman, and she considered herself to be brave and strong. But she wasn’t sure which would require more bravery: facing the dangerous immortals alone, or being married to one.

Her few months of training had already offered her an insight into the depths of her true power. The witches of the world were at a distinct disadvantage since they were just reawakening to their own magic and immortality.

The vampires and dragons of the world had been alive for thousands of years. Even without their magic during the veil, the immortals hadn’t been left without some of their supernatural ability. Their immortal beauty and intelligence made it possible for them to mesmerize and manipulate humans with ease. The immortals had spent the entire duration of the veil using their advanced technology and reaping the monetary benefits of their superior understanding of the world.

The witches wielded raw magical power far stronger than the natural supernatural abilities of the other immortals. Both vampires and dragons had the ability to use other simple forms of magic.

It was the witches who drew their power directly from the endless void. But the women had no history, no understanding, no training. It was said that the witches were the most powerful immortals on Earth before the veil. They were the only ones powerful enough to cast the veil over magic. But it had required them all sacrificing their lives.

That’s what she’d learned at the temple anyway. Desdemona was still not convinced. This Gama lady sounded like a real bitch to her. Who would ask an entire race of women to sacrifice themselves to punish a bunch of men? It seemed completely unfair.

None of it seemed fair. Why did the witches have to die? And what had happened to these Elder God people who’d started all this business in the first place?

The more she searched for answers the less she understood. There were many stories about what had happened to the other Gods. Some people said they went to the center of the Earth where they still lived in their immortality. And the others said that the Gods, Tartarus, Diraki, and even Gama, had left the planet two thousand years ago.

The more she thought of it the more it upset her. Desdemona took a seat by the pond on the south facing side of the fortress. The air had turned cold and light snow fell softly on the deep green bushes around her. She’d dressed in a long black wool coat, a knit hat, thick leggings under her winter robe and insulated leather boots.

She held her guitar and played a few notes. Flakes of snow slowly danced around her. She strummed her strings and the gathering snowflakes went dancing across the water. As she played, she sent them flying. She closed her eyes and felt the tide of magic spiral through her from the air all around, cycling out through the vibration of her strings and back into the air again.

“Desdemona.”

Her hands stopped the strings and she looked behind her to find her tutor, Bridget standing at the edge of the clearing. She wore a long green coat with a pair of velvet leggings beneath. Her red curly hair was tied back in a braid and her green eyes glinted in the low sunlight.

“What is it?”

“It is time for the drawing for the mating ritual,” she said.

Desdemona didn’t reply. She gripped the neck of her guitar and stood. She’d worn a long black coat over her white robe. The hem brushed over the damp ground. The clearing had turned brown as the cool chill of winter descended over the coastal mountains.

She followed Bridget down the path through the dormant gardens and into the main dining room. The witches were gathered in the banquet hall for the choosing ceremony.

The folding chairs had been set for the monthly rotation of the choosing hat. Desdemona walked in and took a seat in a row near the back and crossed her arms over her chest. She was still wearing her coat and felt the warmth of the heater burn against the chill on her face. She pulled out of her coat and flung it over the back of her chair, feeling irritable and wanting this all to be over with.

Bridget and Arch-Priestess Lucia took to the rise where the guardians of the temple ate their meals and conducted official business. The choosing hat sat on a small table in the middle of the rise. Lucia stood behind it, wearing a blue flowing robe that was washed with shades of green. It looked like cascading water over her fattening belly. Her long brown hair hung down her back reaching almost to her waist.

Orion Silverdrake stood beside her. Lucia looked out at the women sitting in the folding chairs before her. She smiled and nodded.

“Sisters, today we choose the women who will attend the mating ritual tomorrow. Each of you knows it is a random assignment decided by the choosing hat. If you are chosen today, then there is an extremely high probability your best match will be at the mating ritual tomorrow. However, if you choose to leave the temple, we ask that you do so as soon as possible so we may replace your name with an additional witch for the offering.”

Lucia’s words burned in Desdemona’s brain. She didn’t know if she could stay or go. Her heart raced in her chest as Lucia reached into the choosing hat for the first time. She drew out a piece of paper and read the name. It was Sarah. She giggled and cheered, clearly overjoyed to have been chosen. Desdemona rolled her eyes.

The next name that was chosen was Maxine. She seemed less overjoyed than Sarah, but didn’t stand up and say she wanted to go. A woman had done that last month. Desdemona had watched her walk away out of the gate alone. It had been the woman’s second rotation.

Three more women were named. There was only one choice left for the month and Desdemona bit her lip as Lucia reached into the choosing hat. The Arch-Priestess drew out the last piece of paper and read the name written on it. As the syllables came out of Lucia’s lips, Desdemona couldn’t believe what she heard. Cold heat flushed from every pore as Lucia said her name. This was her second rotation. She had to choose a husband or leave.

Lucia looked up at her expectantly, but Desdemona sat stunned in her chair. Everyone knew Desdemona didn’t want to be there. Everyone probably expected her to leave. That fact alone almost made her want to stay just to prove them wrong. Aside from that she wasn’t sure if she was ready to brave the world on her own either. She’d learned a great deal in her three months at the temple. But the few times she’d seen Orion shift into his massive dragon form, the thought of battling one made her shudder. She was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak or breathe, let alone make a decision.

Instead she just sat there like an idiot and waited while Lucia completed the ceremony and excused everyone from the dining hall. Desdemona stood as the Goudy servants entered the hall and began moving in the tables for the evening meal. Desdemona didn’t know what to do or what to think. She didn’t even notice when Bridget came up to stand beside her.

“Are you going to be okay?” her tutor asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“It must be a shock to be chosen twice in a row.”

“A shock? Yeah, it’s a shock. I’m not sure if I should be packing or what. Wait a minute. I should be packing no matter what.”

“We have made so many successful matches at the temple. Not a single one of the witches is unhappy with the males they have been mated with. I know that you will find the right one for you. I’ve done some research into your background. There are a few ancient witches who I think could be you. We all looked different back then but in some ways the same. And if you are who I think you are, the men you knew in the old world were powerful and strong.”

“I don’t really believe any of that shit, honestly. It could all be lies as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you are a wielder of magic. How could you possibly doubt the ancient histories?”

“Just because I can do magic doesn’t mean that any of those stories are true.”

“I understand why you could think that,” Bridget said. “But I don’t think your lack of belief in the ancient histories is going to do you any good in the future.”

“What will do me good in the future?”

“The best thing for you to do is concentrate on learning as much magic as you can and finding the right match. The sooner you accept your fate, the easier it will be for you in the end.”

“I’ve heard the same words a thousand times. To be honest, I’m tired of hearing it.”

“Have you not had any memories of your past?” Bridget asked her.

“I’ve had strange dreams that seem like memories. For all I knew it could be a spell.”

“I assure you, those dreams are not spells. I never had a chance to marry in the past though I was several hundred years old when I died. You are lucky to have had a connection with someone.”

“It hasn’t done me any good. In this dream, there are two men. I’ve never seen either of them before. I didn’t want to marry either of them in my dream.”

“Why?” Bridget asked.

“Because they both seemed like assholes.”

“I understand,” said Bridget. “But it is best to rest before tomorrow. It will be the day you choose your mate or the day you choose your fate outside the walls of the fortress.”

Desdemona frowned.

“Choose wisely, young Desdemona,” Bridget said, leaving the younger witch to contemplate her choices.

The next morning, Desdemona woke up early, fully prepared to leave the temple with a single suitcase, her guitar, and the temple-provided pistol as her only protection, aside from her fledgling magic. But instead of climbing out of bed to hurry off into the dark cold wilderness, she lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling.

By the time the sun rose and the other witches were making their way out of their rooms to the main dining room on the first level of the mansion, Desdemona still hadn’t come to a firm decision about what to do. She had been asked the day before to leave the Temple immediately if she chose not to participate in the mating ritual, but she still hadn’t been able to make up her mind.

As she washed and dressed and prepared for the day, she still hadn’t made a firm decision about what to do next. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be married off to some strange immortal man who just wanted to impregnate her with his heir. But at the same time, it was the middle of winter in the middle of nowhere.

Her choices were not true choices. Not in the sense they would have been before the Dark Sun. Back then, she could have chosen to go to college, get a job, go to trade school, get married, travel the world, or drop out of society and become a vagrant or a drug addict. She could even travel to Hollywood and try to become a star.

Those were choices. But what Desdemona had now were not choices. One option was just as bad as the other. What she had was two options that were forced upon her. In reality, she was more of a slave than a free woman, despite her magic and the supposed sacredness of her immortal womb.

Unlike many of the other witches in the temple, she did not feel any pride in the immortal womb that she carried inside her. She resented it beyond anything she’d ever resented before, perhaps even including the Dark Sun.

As she entered the dining hall and carried her tray down the buffet line, filling her plate with breakfast food, her mind raced with dark thoughts. She imagined standing up in front of the entire congregation of immortals and temple guardians and telling them all off.

When she sat down at the table next to several of the young witches who had recently arrived, the scenario she played over in her mind made her giggle inwardly. The witch sitting beside her looked at Desdemona with a questioning expression. Desdemona shrugged and shoved a piece of toast in her mouth.

The immortal men would be arriving soon and she still hadn’t decided what to do. Perhaps the best course of action would be to see what kind of men came to the meeting. Maybe she could find a good one. That was always a possibility, she supposed.

No matter how tall and handsome and rich they all were, she remained unimpressed. Their godly good looks turned her off. In the temple she was the strange one. Most the witches seemed to be dying of love for the immortals. It was like they were teenage girls crushing on rock stars.

After breakfast, Desdemona went back up to her room and packed her things. She would attend the mating ritual, but if she couldn’t find a decent guy, then she would leave.

By noon, the immortals’ vessels began to arrive at the temple. Desdemona watched them from her third story window as the men gathered at the ritual space behind the mansion. It was constructed of megalithic stones built by the magic of the witches themselves. Desdemona had attended many noonday sun rituals and lunar cycle rituals inside the circle of crystalline stones. She knew the power of the space.

So many immortal males arrived every time. They were still mostly the Alpha dragons and Kings of covens. She’d heard they made agreements between themselves on who could come here. For her, it made no difference.

She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She grabbed her brush and ran it through her long black hair, feeling irritated that she wanted to look good for these people. What difference did it even make? They would want her even if she were ugly. The fact that she was young and beautiful and still a virgin would make no difference. All these men wanted was a baby so they could ensure their strength against other immortals.

Desdemona knew that it was important to protect the world from the Surge, but she didn’t believe that witches should be sacrificed in order to accomplish that, just like they had two thousand years ago. It was like the sacrifice to cast the veil was all still happening today.

As she prepared herself to leave the room, she considered once again leaving the temple for good. But as she stared at her guitar case and her sad little suitcase filled with warm clothes from the temple, she realized that leaving now would surely be a mistake. One of those males would find her anyway and take her as his bride. And without the protection of the temple, that immortal male could do anything he pleased to her.

The agreement the immortals made with the temple was that they would treat each witch well.

Desdemona took one last breath and let it out before she left the room and made her way down the elevator to the ground floor. She joined the rest of the witches waiting in the wings to present themselves to immortals who gathered in the ritual space.

She was dressed in a long flowing silver-blue robe that stood out against the dark winter forest. She had taken the color as a kind of indication of her magical ability as a musical air witch.

“Who do you think will come this time?” asked Sarah, one of the witches who had been chosen to be sacrificed to the immortals this time.

“Does it even matter?” Desdemona snapped.

Lucia and Bridget joined them in the tent beside the ritual space and addressed the six women who had been chosen to offer themselves in the mating ritual.

“We have a very special guest with us here today,” Lucia said. “My husband Orion’s brother, Titus, is among the suitors. Titus is the Alpha of the Silverdrake clan, one of the greatest allies of witches in the world. Any of you would be lucky to have him as a match.”

Desdemona tried to hold back her eye roll, but it was impossible. One of these immortal males was as good as the next as far she was concerned. They all just wanted one thing from the witches. This wasn’t about love or anything like it and no matter which male any of them chose, the result would be the same: a life of pregnancy and servitude.

“It looks like we are ready to begin,” Bridget said.

Bridget and Lucia opened the tent and invited the witches who were this month’s offerings to filter out of the tent and into the ritual space. There were at least a hundred males in a circle on the inner perimeter of the megalithic structure. They were all handsome and strong, their youthful looks belying their true age. These men were all Alphas and Kings. That meant they were old and strong.

Desdemona walked out into the center of the ritual space and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling irritated. The other women were tittering and giggling and taking in the sights of all the waiting men. Desdemona sighed and rolled her eyes, puffing out the breath from between her pursed lips.

It was then that a male approached her out of the shadows and grabbed her arm. She looked up at him, her brows knitted in annoyance. As she took in his face, she was bowled over by the memories that had been haunting her dreams.

It was him. The silver-blue eyed dragon. The asshole she’d been in love with.

“It’s you,” he said in a husky deep voice. “I would recognize that scent anywhere.”

“And who are you?” she asked irritably.

“Titus Silverdrake. Do you not remember me?”

“Well, you see, the thing is, Titus Silverdrake. Unlike you, I’ve died hundreds of times over the last two thousand years. At least that’s what they tell me happened, since I’ve been imprisoned here in this temple.”

“How are you in prison?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Do you think any of us really has a choice here?”

“You have as much choice as the rest of us immortals do.”

“How do I even know I’m immortal? I’m only nineteen years old. When I’m a hundred and fifty-seven, then I’ll believe that I’m actually immortal.”

“Have you had no memory of your past?”

“I’ve had a few dreams…about you. You always seemed like a dick.”

“A…dick?”

“I think I was in love with you. But you didn’t want me. Then you did want me, but mostly to one-up your buddy. That’s what I got from the dream anyway.”

“Your name was Patrice in those days. What is your name now?”

“My name is Desdemona Hawthorne. I suppose you have the same name. Lucky you.”

“Desdemona Hawthorne. I would not be here if I had a choice myself. Do you think that it has been easy for the other immortals all this time without our magic? I spent two thousand years in human form unable to shift. Men like my brother Orion watched his pregnant wife die right in front of his eyes. You got to be blissfully ignorant for two thousand years. I think you are the lucky ones.”

“Ha!” Desdemona scoffed.

“Since I am myself forced to find a bride or have my position as Alpha questioned, I would like to offer you this rose as a representation of my intentions toward you.”

“Everybody wants to give me a rose. You realize that, right?”

“Of course, there are many of us and few of you. We were intended two thousand years ago. And I believe that we would have married if you had not sacrificed yourself for the veil.”

“You really think I would have married you?”

“I believe you would have come around in the end,” he said, crossing his arms.

Titus Silverdrake was six-foot-four, with broad shoulders, and silver-blue eyes that bore directly into her soul. His black hair was styled expertly, making him look like a professional in his black suit and polished shoes. He wore a tie that matched the color of eyes and a thick gold watch on his wrist, completing the look of a powerful businessman. It made her a little sick to her stomach how attractive she found him.

Yet she couldn’t help the feeling he stirred inside her. Her dreams of him were real. She had experienced them herself, and all the feelings that went along with them.

Desdemona was still not fully convinced they were true memories. Maybe she was just being manipulated and led along by all these demonic assholes who had destroyed the human world.

“Why do you believe I would have come around?” she challenged.

“Because you loved me,” he said matter-of-factly, pushing the rose into her hand.

“I loved you? But did you love me?” she blurted out, feeling same sting she had inside her dreams.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lucia announced from the center of the circle. “I see that each of the ladies has a rose now. I would ask that each gentleman who intends to give a rose to one of the ladies do it now. The witches will then retire to make their decisions.”

Desdemona gave Titus a dark look and walked off toward the tent as a dozen other men tried to shove roses in her face. She grabbed a couple of them, just to make Titus jealous. When she made it into the tent, she threw them all in the corner and sat down in a huff. The other witches were all blushing and gushing as they counted their roses. Bridget approached Desdemona where she sat on her chair. Her mentor gave her a questioning look.

“I see Titus found you,” Bridget said.

“Am I supposed to be impressed or something?” Desdemona asked. “Because I’m not.”

“Titus is Orion’s brother,” Bridget said. “He’s an excellent match. I wouldn’t have minded being matched with him myself.”

“You’re kidding. You know he’s just as bad as the rest of them.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you were once called Patrice. I wasn’t sure of it until now. But after seeing Titus go straight to you, I know that it’s true. He could sense it more readily than anyone else, including you. That means something, don’t you think?”

“So Bridget, tell me, did I marry Titus when I was Patrice?”

Desdemona was challenging Bridget now. She knew she’d never married anyone in her previous life.

“No. There were some issues with another man and your relationship with Titus had always been tumultuous.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know. All of that was between you and Titus. None of it is in the temple database, only a few references noting the nature of the relationship. Maybe you should ask him.”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.”

“I suggest you decide quickly. Because the males who have come for the mating ritual expect that each of you will choose your matches by the end of the day.”

Bridget turned on her heel and walked out of the tent, leaving Desdemona with her dark thoughts. Her memories of Titus were so vague and dreamlike that she had no idea if she was walking into a viper pit or a bed of roses. What she did know was that she had had feelings for him that she didn’t feel were properly returned. Apparently, the immortals two thousand years ago worked a lot differently than they did today.

Desdemona had been living in rural compounds without electricity or reliably running water for the last two years, but when she had gone to high school in the old world, she had dealings with boys that had taught her all she needed to know about men.

They would string you along and try to get what they wanted, and then walked away as if it meant nothing. And the feelings she had in those dreams about Titus reminded her distinctly of the feeling she had when she’d been blown over by boys in high school.

As far she was concerned, Titus wasn’t any better than the average seventeen-year-old player. But if she didn’t choose Titus, she was going to have to choose one of these other assholes. She didn’t know which was worse.

The other men who had arrived for the mating ritual weren’t disgusting or bad looking. They were all immortals looking to impregnate someone. She didn’t have a lot of respect for any of them.

Titus, on the other hand, seemed less than thrilled to be there. She felt a sense of comradery with him. Everyone was telling her that she had to find a mate or she’d be kicked out of the temple. And he had to find a mate or lose his position as Alpha. Maybe going with Titus was her safest bet.

After an hour, the witches were expected to rejoin the males in the rituals space and announce whose offering they had accepted. Desdemona had about a dozen roses with the names of the males on little tags around each stem. She hadn’t really gotten a chance to speak with any of the others because Titus had monopolized her time. She let out a deep breath and decided that choosing the asshole she knew was slightly better than choosing an asshole she didn’t.

When it was her turn to announce whose rose she would accept, she walked up to the head of the line and cleared her throat.

“My name is Desdemona Hawthorne and I accept the offering of Titus Silverdrake,” she said, her annoyance evident in her voice.

The men and witches looked at her with blank expressions on their faces, clearly responding to her absolute and total lack of enthusiasm for the entire process. What was she supposed to do? Pretend like she wanted to be part of this? Pretend like this wasn’t completely insulting to her soul?

Titus stepped forward and reached out his hand to her. She slid her hand into his. On contact with him, a flood of sensation entered her body. All the darkness she had experienced over the last two years overtook her, and she promptly passed out.

When Desdemona woke up she was riding through the clouds in a spaceship. She sat up with a start and gasped, banging her head against the door of the ship. The pain sliced through her skull and she placed her palm on the growing bump. She glanced over at the driver and saw that it was Titus. His hands gripped on the steering wheel of the technological marvel. Desdemona had seen plenty of these advanced crafts flying about in the sky but never actually been in one, not even during her months at the temple.

“What happened? Where are you taking me?”

“You passed out. But only after you had agreed to be my bride. Now I am taking you home.”

“Where are my things?”

“Your few belongings were packed into the storage bay of my craft. You have nothing to worry about.”

“So what now?” she asked. “Are you going to take me back to your fortress and repeatedly rape me until I give birth to your child?”

He gave her a disgusted look but said nothing. He then looked straight ahead at his path through the sky.

“Just remember, I was forced into this is much as you were. I don’t think either of us wanted this any more than the other.”

“Is that the reason you wanted to marry me the last time?”

“The last time?”

“You know, before my Goddess asked me to sacrifice myself?”

“You were a silly girl then and you are a silly girl now.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said, crossing her arms and looking straight ahead.

She knew it all along: he was a total dick.

“Well, if I’m silly then you are also silly because you wanted to marry me. What are you, like hundred million years old? I’m only nineteen. What kind of sicko hundred-million-year-old wants to marry a nineteen-year-old girl? Answer that.”

“First of all, there isn’t a single immortal alive on the planet today who is a hundred million years old. I don’t know if the Goddess of Gama is even a hundred million years old, to tell you the truth. But since you asked, I’m five thousand. You are an immortal with many past lives. It isn’t as if you are truly nineteen. Although, I can’t really see the difference right now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“For all intents and purposes, darling, you are a nineteen-year-old human.”

“And?”

“Let’s be clear, dear. You are a nineteen-year-old girl and I’m a successful businessman. Let’s say for comparison’s sake that I am perhaps thirty-five. That would be fair, right?”

“You look more like you’re twenty-seven, but okay.”

“Suppose I’m even just a thirty-five-year-old human and you’re a nineteen-year-old human, that would still be quite a bit of difference don’t you think?”

“Yeah. That was my point. What’s your point?”

“My point is that you are still a child and you should listen to me.”

“Oh, oh, oh. The gloves have come off now haven’t they?”

“These things are simply true. We need to get through this situation unscathed. We have two prerequisites here. One is we must be matched. Two we must produce an heir to the Silverdrake clan. Aside from that, our association is irrelevant.”

“Wow, I don’t remember you being this romantic in my dreams,” she said.

“If you must know, I did have feelings for you before. But at this point, I can’t remember why.”

“That makes two of us. How did I get into this again? I should’ve chosen someone else.”

“Well your other choice wasn’t there today. It was only me. And Kyran isn’t a King.”

“Kyran?”

“You know, that vampire who interfered in our affairs. The one who asked you to be his bride two thousand years ago. Don’t you remember?”

“His name is Kyran? Where is he? Who is he?”

“I don’t feel that matters. You’ve accepted my offering today. I’ve chosen you and we are matched. That’s all there is to it.”

“You and I both know that is not the end of the story. I still haven’t been claimed by you.”

“That is a fact that will be remedied soon enough.”

“You’d claim me without my permission?”

“I am sure when the time comes you will be begging for it.”

“Ha! You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“No. I just remember what it used to be like all those years ago, little Desdemona.”

“And I remember what you used to be like. So don’t count on me letting you claim me anytime soon.”

They stared at each other as the vessel flew through the sky, their dark gazes locked in mutual irritation.