Chapter 59

Branna

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I wake up to the warmth of a ray of bright autumn sunlight falling across my face. I’m pressed up against Cooper’s back, the big spoon in our spooning this time, and the first thing that I see when I blink the sleep out of my eyes is Cooper’s shoulder blade piece, glorious on his muscled upper back.

From a distance, it would seem identical to the beautiful, swirling pattern of my mother’s tattoo, with the same magical swirls and bursts, the same star spots that haunt my memory. Come a little closer and you’ll notice that the swirls are not made of block lines and complete marks. Come even closer and you will see that the lines are actually words. The pattern is a poem, dancing over his skin.

She had looked for his coming as warriors come,

With the clash of arms and the bugle’s call;

But he came instead with a stealthy tread,

Which she did not hear at all.

She had thought how his armor would blaze in the sun,

As he rode like a prince to claim his bride:

In the sweet dim light of the falling night

She found him at her side.

She had dreamed how the gaze of his strange, bold eye

Would wake her heart to a sudden glow:

She found in his face the familiar grace

Of a friend she used to know.

She had dreamed how his coming would stir her soul,

As the ocean is stirred by the wild storm’s strife:

He brought her the balm of a heavenly calm,

And a peace which crowned her life.

It’s ‘Love’s Coming’ by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. I read it when I was back in the tenth grade, in English class, and for some reason it just stuck with me. It was disturbingly beautiful and I could really connect to it. I was doomed to a life without love, so the thought of finding a love so perfect, and only just nearly unattainable, was the most fascinating thing to me. I fell in love with the poem, as I thought I would never be able to fall in love with a man.

And then I met Cooper. And even though I would not, could not, put how I felt about him in those words yet, it just felt right to give him that poem. It just felt right to share that with him.

Now I know why. I was falling for him long before I would admit that to myself.

Cooper shifts, still mostly asleep. I snuggle into him, pressing my face against his back. Today could be the day that everything comes crumbling down around our ears. I believe in my plan, but there’s no getting around the fact that if we fail, it’s my fault. Even if it is our best option, that doesn’t mean it’s a good option.

We could still be dead before we get the chance to sleep again. I knew my life would be hard. I knew I would not be happy as Alexei’s wife. I knew that the underworld was very dangerous and that what had happened to my mother and sister could happen to anyone. But, even so, I never thought that I would be dead before my twentieth birthday. As a pawn in the blood feud, I was protected even in the middle of all the danger, and I never thought that I would be dead before I would get the chance to be a mother myself. And now I may be. But, if I had a magical time machine that could transport me back to moments before I ran away, setting off this entire crazy chain of events, would I go back and change anything? Even if I were certain that I would die by sunset, would I go back and stay, just to save myself?

I ask myself these questions because I feel that I should, but I already know the answer. It is an unwavering no. I am a young woman with big dream, and I definitely do not at all want to die. Not now, not before I have accomplished everything that I want to. But having shared the time that I have had with Cooper, limited as it was, is worth so much more than a long, but empty, life without him would be. And, finally, I know that Cooper feels the same way.

Cooper moves again as he awakens, shifting onto his back and reaching out an arm to pull me onto his chest.

“Morning, babe,” he says, opening his beautiful, blue eyes. Though I have seen it daily, with the exception of the last miserable weeks without him here in New York, his beauty still takes my breath away. I can lose myself in the crystal clear blue pools of his eyes, set like gems in his tanned face. I run my fingers gently over his dark stubble, dotting his sexy broad jaw.

“Good morning, babe,” I whisper, before giving in to his kiss. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight for a moment before releasing. We lie there, together in a peaceful and intimate silence, for some more minutes. My eyes drift over the room and land on the closet. I remember with a pang that Alexei is tied up inside.

“We have to let him out and get going,” I say.

Cooper groans. I feel the same way. I would like to lie in his arms for hours if the circumstances were different.

“You’re right,” Cooper says, squeezing me in tight to him one more time before releasing me and sitting up. “We need to get on the 10:35 flight to Boston.”

“Do you think we’ll still be able to get three tickets?” I ask. “It’s New York to Boston on a weekday morning. I bet it’s packed with business travelers.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” Cooper says. “There are some perks to being a former high level operative. I have it all covered. Getting on that flight is the least of our hurdles today.”

I give him a kiss. He instinctively pulls me in, kissing me so hard I feel it in my fingertips.

“Still,” he says, reluctantly pulling away. “We do need to get out of here.”

We dress quickly and get our things together, which doesn’t take long given that we don’t have much. I open the closet door and Cooper pulls the chair, with Alexei bound to it, out. He isn’t gagged, but doesn’t say a word as we unbind him. He gets up, coldly, and looks from Cooper to me.

“Let’s go” I say. An O’Sullivan and a Sokolov conspiring against the Boston Irish syndicate and the Bratva. It must be snowing in Texas.