Juliet is a Born vampire, but she isalsogifted.
That’s what she meant when she saidhere we go again. She’s done this before. A lot of times, if I had to guess.
“So, she’s going to come back?” I ask softly.
“In five minutes,” Roman says without looking at us. “Give or take.”
Something about the way he says it—the absolute certainty, the weight in his voice—says this isn’t the first or second time he’s held her like this and waited. The way he turned his back right before Juliet touched Ares… Roman knew exactly what Juliet was about to do. And he couldn’t stand to watch it.
How many times has Roman seen Juliet die?
“That’s about the craziest shit I’ve heard yet,” Sysco says as his eyebrows rise toward his hairline and he shakes his head. “But damn if that gift wouldn’t come in handy all the time.”
Ares and I sit on the floor beside him, our legs tangled, both of us still catching our breath. He touches my face again, gently, his thumb brushing away the tears I didn’t realize were still falling.
“You’re okay?” he murmurs.
“You were just dead, and you’re asking ifI’mokay?” I balk.
Ares expression darkens. “I saw Jamesstabyou.”
“Right, I forgot,” I admit stupidly. I look down at my chest. My shirt has a hole, but there’s no evidence that I was pierced in the chest and nicked in the heart. There isn’t any blood there. There isn’t even a red scar. “It’s totally healed already. Honestly, I hardly felt it for more than two seconds. The regeneration is… diabolical.”
“I’ll be thanking Florence every fucking day of my life,” Ares says as he cups a hand behind my head and pulls my forehead to his.
“You got fucking stabbed?!” Sysco bellows, looking at me with huge eyes. “And you’re just fine?”
I nod. “I’m fine.”
Sysco shakes his head. “That’s it. I don’t know a damn thing anymore. Vampires getting staked and being fine, othersbringing people back from the dead. The whole rulebook is out the window.”
I chuckle. And I’m so grateful for Sysco. That, even in a moment like this, he can still make me smile.
But my heart has another attack when, just a moment later, Juliet gasps.
She lurches forward in Roman’s arms like someone waking from a drowning dream. Her eyes snap open. Her hands clutch his shoulders.
Roman doesn’t flinch. He just exhales slowly and pulls her closer.
“Hey,” he says softly.
Juliet blinks, dazed. “What…?”
“You did it,” he says. “You brought him back.”
She groans and drops her head against his chest. “Oh, good. Can we just get me a punch card at this point?”
Another tear gathers in the corner of my eye. I push to my hands and knees, my palms smearing in the blood beneath us, and crawl over to her.
Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around her. She smells like blood and sweat and death—but she’s warm. Alive.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Juliet’s voice is muffled in my shoulder. “No biggie. Just another Saturday.”
I let out a wet, half-hysterical laugh and pull back, brushing a hand through my hair. And then Ares is there, wrapping his arms around both Juliet and Roman.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice gritty. “I owe you both everything.”
