Chapter Twenty-Three
Mateo
Eternal Love
There is a peculiarkind of silence that settles over a coven house before something monumental.It is not the absence of sound.Ours is a home of perpetual movement, muted footsteps, distant murmurs, and the soft hum of technology I insisted upon dragging into a centuries-old existence, but rather a tightening of the air itself.
Expectation.Tension.The sense that the walls are holding their breath.Tonight, the compound feels like that.Charged, watching, and waiting.
I stand at the far edge of the courtyard, my palms resting against the cool stone of the low wall, worn smooth by decades of restless pacing.Behind me, lanterns cast molten gold pools across the lawn, their glow flickering against the darkened line of the Black Forest.The sky above is a deep velvet stretch, stars scattered like careless diamonds, but I find no comfort in the beauty of it.
Because my mind is not on the ceremony.Not entirely.
My mind is on Harlow.Always Harlow.And on the quiet, unsettling unease that has wrapped itself around this coven since the Blood Council announced their attendance.
Footsteps approach behind me, soft, human, impossibly familiar.I do not need to turn to know who it is.My body reacts long before my conscious mind registers her presence.
Every time.Every fucking time.
Warmth floods my veins as her scent curls around me like a living thing.Citrus and something uniquely hers, threaded now with nerves she tries, and fails, to hide.
“You’re brooding again.”
Her voice is gentle, teasing, but there is tension beneath it.A tightness that mirrors my own.I turn slowly, and the sight of her steals the breath from my lungs.
Harlow stands framed by lantern light spilling from the lawn, dark hair cascading over bare shoulders, her ceremonial gown a flowing cascade of midnight silk.The fabric hugs her curves with an intimacy that feels criminal, the deep neckline exposing the elegant line of her throat - a throat I have dreamed of marking more times than I can count.
Not lust.Never just lust.But reverence, possession, and a love so fucking consuming it borders on madness.
“You are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on,” I murmur.
Her cheeks flush, that soft pink bloom I have come to crave.“You’re biased.”
“I am,” I admit without hesitation.“Hopelessly.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrays her pleasure.Still, I see it, the flicker of apprehension in her gaze as she moves closer.
“The Council will be here soon.”
The words drop between us like a stone into still water.Ripples of discomfort spread instantly through my chest.
I reach for her on instinct, my hands settling at her waist, drawing her into me.Her palms land against my chest, grounding and intoxicating all at once.