Chapter 16
Morgan
Even though I’m still reeling from my talk with Dylan, I go to my quarters and change for our mandatory dinner. Despite the fact I showered and cleaned up, I still have the taste and feel of Damien on my mouth. With every floor I pass, I note the lingering effects of the men in the mansion. There’s the phantom heat of Bunny’s painted mark on my cheek. My stomach twists at the memory of Sam’s teeth on my throat and the pleasure of his hands between my legs. The image of Clinton’s eyes are scorched in my mind just like the heat of his lip as I poured my everything into him.
I carry these sensations with me as I walk past the second level and down to the main foyer. It’s with a new understanding that I enter the dining room and take my seat at the head of the table. The men wait for me with attentive, expectant expressions. I take them in one by one.
Dylan, the only one that hasn’t touched my skin, is still part of my soul. I speak to him first. “I was eight years old the first time you came to me. Nothing more than a shadow in the trees. You followed me to the bus stop and were there each day when I returned. It was you that arrived before the others—a sentinel—making sure I was safe.”
I shift my gaze to Sam. “You were always the kindest and never afraid to get close. I remember sitting on the blanket in the yard. Watching you fly tree to tree. You’d call out and I’d try to copy your voice. We’d talk for hours—just chattering away. You became my best friend when no one else wanted to be around.”
Damien leans forward and I touch the ring he forged for me. “The first gift you brought to me was a shiny silver marble. Next, a trinket made of gold. I had a whole stash in my room but I was only able to keep one. The only one that truly mattered.” I touch the charm on my chest. “I didn’t remember until today where it came from. Or why I had it. But I remember now that you brought it to me one sunny afternoon. The cord was already strung through the loop and you all watched from your branches as I hung it on my neck. You were protecting me—even then. I didn’t realize I had a job. I didn’t know I would fail so badly.”
I look apologetically at Bunny with the last sentence. He reaches across the table with his good hand and I shake my head. “It’s my fault you lost use of your arm and hand. I never should have followed the cat down the path. He came to me day after day, leading me to the gate, and every time I followed.”
“You didn’t understand,” he says.
“No. That’s the thing. I did. I felt the energy and the power and I wanted more. I knew I was meant for something beyond this world. I just didn’t realize it would lead to such destruction. I didn’t know you would get hurt.”
“I survived, Morgan. I’m still here—with you.”
I squeeze his hand but look down the opposite side of the table, to the man at Dylan’s side. Clinton is the strongest of the guardians. “The most protective. The most reserved. You were always the last to arrive because you were keeping watch over all of us.”
“I’m the one that failed that day.”
“You can’t bear the weight of my actions alone, Clinton.”
“We were commanded,” he says, leaning forward. His eyes shine like steel. “You were a child. We knew what was on the other side and the ramifications of the gate opening.”
“I was a child with the power of a goddess.”
The room goes silent now that our history is spread on the table.
Across the room Dylan leans back in his seat, arm resting by his side. He doesn’t look concerned. No, he looks emboldened, like my returned memory is the answer to all his prayers.
“What do we do now?” I ask the historian. But he gave me a summary in his quarters. I need the men, my ravens, to absorb the darkness; if not, the Morrigan will return full force, open the gate, and the apocalypse will begin. I understand this now. I understand my heightened desires.
“We do nothing,” he replies, gesturing to the other men. “But you must make a choice.”
I frown. “What kind of choice?”
“Between us.”
I stare across the table. None of the men looked remotely surprised, unlike me where it’s just one blindside after the other. “I don’t understand.”
“To fight the darkness, Morgan, you must find a partner of equal strength. Someone who can take the brunt of the energy burning beneath your skin.” Dylan’s blue eyes shine. “Ravens mate for life and you are the Queen. You’ll need to choose from one of us—one of the guards.”
His words are like a punch to the gut. Mating for life? But it still rings true in the center of my chest. My eyes skim past each one. The strong, the smart, the beautiful, the creative, and the caring, and I realize with stark clarity that I’m not upset about the directive.
I’m upset that I can’t have them all.