Everlife

Love = four letters.

You = three letters.

143, 10.

Even now, the pendant hangs from a string of leather around my neck, both beautiful and useful. Whenever I’m in trouble, I can press the center, and my location will be sent to Killian’s comm. He can find me in an instant and help.

Now, we’re going to help each other and intertwine our futures with an unbreakable covenant.

What if, despite this, I’m unable to enter Myriad?

Zero! The doubt devil surfaces, and swarms of others follow. Will my Light hurt him? Will his darkness harm me? Will we weaken or strengthen each other? Will our covenants to the realms be voided? What if, after this, neither of us can return home?

Firstlife was a dress rehearsal. Now the curtain is up, and we’re performing in front of a live studio audience. Every word, action and decision comes with a consequence. There are no second chances to right our wrongs. No do-overs.

I’ve been told I’ll turn the tide of the war, somehow, some way. What if my bond to Killian turns the tide in Myriad’s favor?

Maybe I should back out. Except...every fiber of my being suddenly screams in denial. Both realms have reached a boiling point. Every day innocents are slaughtered. Something has to change, and fast. This is our best shot at peace. Our only shot. And really, I want to save Myriad just as much as I want to save Troika. I shouldn’t put one realm above the other.

Face it. If I back out now, fear wins and everyone loses.

I will not make decisions based on “what if.” I will do what’s right, always. Because, in the end, I’m the only one who has to live with my regrets.

Doubt devils can suck it.

Killian squeezes my hands. “Yer paler by the second, lass. There’s still time tae back out.” His accent—a mix of Irish, Scottish, and I have no idea what else—is thicker than usual, his voice low and husky, and irresistibly sexy. “I doona want you feelin’ pressured.”

“I just... I wish we could speak with other inter-realm couples. We aren’t the first Troikan and Myriadian to fall in love. We can’t be.” Though we’ve searched high and low, we’ve found no one else. Either the others are in hiding...or dead.

He stiffens, as if he’s expecting a devastating blow. “We can put this ceremony on hold and continue searchin’.”

And end up right where we are, perhaps far too late. “We’re doing this. I’ll share my Light with you, and you’ll share your darkness with me. I’ll pass through the Veil of Midnight.” The doorway that leads into Myriad freezes Troikans to Second-death. But I’m about to become half-Myriadian. Maybe. Probably. Fingers crossed.

He is far from comforted. “If yer only doin’ this for your mother...”

Mom is locked in the Kennels, a prison in Myriad. I’m going to find and free her, so she can defect to Troika to raise my little brother, Jeremy. “She’s one of many reasons,” I say.

He relaxes, but only slightly. “Yer only seventeen years old. We can revisit the bond in a few decades, yeah?”

Decades? I inhale deeply, drawing in the familiar and beloved scent of peat smoke and heather. His scent. A new wave of calm flows over me, as warm and sweet as honey. “I’m almost eighteen, and you’re only nineteen. So what? We’ve lived, died and lived again. I’m not going to wait to fight for what’s right, and I’m certainly not going to wait to claim you.”

“I doona want ye doin’ something you’ll regret.”

His accent has reached maximum thickness. Aka sweet, mouthwatering molasses. Meaning his emotions are engaged and running rampant, and I’m melting as my blood heats. “How could I regret a miracle?” I ask.

One dark brow arches as his incredible eyes glitter. “Explain.”

“There are over one hundred billion galaxies. And counting! There are incalculable universes, two realms in the Unending, two sub-realms, nine planets in our solar system, one hundred and ninety-six countries, seven seas and over seven hundred islands. The fact that we found each other—miracle.”

He laughs. “You tryin’ tae seduce me, lass? ’Cause it’s workin’.”

This boy. Oh, this boy. He’s the one seducing me. Heart, mind, body. I love him.

But go ahead. Remove love from the equation. It doesn’t matter. Still I trust him. Time and time again, he’s defied the orders of his Secondking in an effort to protect my family. He’s helped me when he should have harmed me.

“It’s working, but it hasn’t carried you to the finish line yet?” I mock-growl. “I can’t believe you’re making me talk you into this. It was your idea. Maybe I should wait until you get down on one knee to beg for the honor of becoming my husband.”

His good humor fades in an instant, his features tight with tension. “I willna beg. I had tae beg for scraps as a child, simply tae survive. Now I’d rather die than beg for anythin’.”

“Hey, hey.” Amusement gone, I gently cup his face. Tenderness wells inside me. There’s so much I don’t know about him. So much I’m eager to learn. “I was only teasing, I promise.”

He releases a shuddering breath. A second later, his lips curve in a slow smile full of promise, and tendrils of heat unfurl inside me. He is beautiful beyond imagining, though every chiseled line is cut by cruelty, as if pain lives and breathes inside him. I look at him, and I want to kiss him, hug him and shake him all at once.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You get I’ll be cherishin’ you every day of my Everlife, aye?”

Just like that. I’m undone. One smile—and I fall deeper in love with him. One moment of time—and I can’t imagine a single day without him. One sentence—and I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

I rise on my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Will you be cherishin’ me? I mean, yer wearing Troikan armor. Think yer marriage is goin’ to be a battlefield?” His irises glitter with a teasing light, but his tone is serious.

I give the collar of my black catsuit a self-conscious tug.

“I kid, I kid.” Killian brushes his knuckles across my jawline. “You look good in anythin’. And I canna imagine a more beautiful bride.” His voice takes on a husky timbre. “Later, you’ll look even better in nothin’.”

Heat blooms over my cheeks.

His smile returns, and it’s full of mischief, wonder and adoration. He brushes his thumbs over the rise of my cheekbones. “Yer eyes are like mini-TV screens. They broadcast yer emotions.”

Others have told me I’m impossible to read. But then, Killian knows me better than most, and he wants me anyway. Not because I’m a rare Conduit, but because I’m me. Tenley Lockwood. A girl who’s messed up, time and time again, but continues to get up and keep fighting the good fight.

“Today, a new future will be forged,” I say. “Enemies become family.”

“The first step toward concord between our realms.”

Wind whistles outside our cave, snow billowing, while a fire crackles inside. My gaze snags on the far wall, where the numerical equivalent of our names is carved. 68 + 39.

Killian: 11 + 9 + 12 + 12 + 9 + 1 + 14 = 68

Ten: 20 + 5 + 14 = 39

68 + 39 = 107

“Sonnet 107” by William Shakespeare.

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul

Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,