“What will become of the prophecy?”
I raise my head to see Itzel. Gaius’s hold on her hasn’t slipped. She doesn’t appear to care about her life. All she’s ever cared about is the damn gods, not the flesh and blood woman that I am.
“As I told my mate, prophecies are rarely what they seem,” says Virius, his voice still reedy from his near death. “But with this one, it looks like everyone got what they came for. So we’ll call it even. Let her go, brother.”
Gaius’s fingers twitch around Itzel’s neck. He takes in a deep breath. Then he looks at me. He’s giving me the choice.
“It’s your land,” Gaius says. “They’re your people. It’s your say.”
I don’t hesitate. I know exactly what I want to do. I turn to the women who have been there all my life. They raised me to think I was something special. They taught me to fight, to take care of myself. But they never allowed me to define my own destiny.
“Go home.”
A bristle runs through the crowd, much like a cat who’s had her fur rubbed the wrong way. My words aren’t directed at the crowd. They’re directed at Itzel.
“I’ve listened to your words all my life,” I say. “And they nearly killed me, and the man I love.”
I look to Viri, who has sat up on the makeshift altar. The wounds on his chest and wrist are healing slowly. Not as fast as they would normally, but I can see that his life is no longer in jeopardy.
“I think this prophecy was meant to bring us together. All of us.” I look around the room at the shifters and vampires under one roof. Or, rather, one cave. “You’re the only one who tried to tear us apart.”
Gaius shifts his hold on Itzel. His face contorts with guilt.
“You,” I say to him, “I think you’ll come around.”
He raises a brow, and then sighs in a reluctant sound of agreement.
I turn to the rest of the women gathered. “You all have a choice of what path you’ll follow. You can either stay here and build this community. Or you can go back to the old ways with her. It’s your choice, which is more than I ever got.”
I don’t wait to see what choices get made. I only care to focus on one person’s wellbeing. Viri has to lean on me and my strength as we walk out of the cave. But I barely feel his weight as Gaius is at his side, Hadrian is at his back, and Cari’s hand is in mine.
This is my new family. They aren’t perfect. They’re a little crazy. But they have accepted me with no strings or prophecies attached, so it’s an improvement.
I tuck my head under Viri’s chin. I can hear his heart beating in his chest. His breath ruffles my hair. His strong arms are around me, holding me tight, and letting me know he’ll never let me go.
Epilogue
Virius
The rays on my face warm me from the tip of my nose on down to my toes. I’m barefoot as I stand in the sunlight, waiting for it to set as I wait for my mate.
“You’re going to roast if you don’t come into the shade.”
My nose wrinkles, more at the smell of the lotion full of SPF than at Hadrian’s voice. Some of my supernatural powers stayed with me when my blood was drained.
I am still abnormally strong, but I think that has more to do with my genes than anything else. I am still fast, though now everyone in my family could outpace me. Everyone except Marechal, who is the last remaining human hold out.
I can walk in the sun now, though I still would burn. Just not to a crisp like other vampires. Because I’m not exactly a vampire anymore. Nor am I a shifter. I’m also not exactly human.
But my skin will sunburn if I don’t protect it. Already there is a red splotch on my forearm. So I heed my brother’s words and step back inside the kitchen as the sun sets.
Hadrian isn’t standing at the glass of the door, glaring at the solar orb like he’s done every dusk for the last two hundred years. Instead, my vampire brother is at the stove, cooking a meaty dish in a wine reduction. It’s wine from this year’s harvest of the Balam Vineyards. The first year’s vintage was in such high demand that the jaguar shifters working the land are now well into selling next year’s crops.
Outside, the men and women of the Balam shifters come out of their homes and start the nightly ritual of tending to the vines which will secure their families’ futures.
“Come away from the door,” says Hadrian as he flips the meatballs. “She won’t get here any faster with the screen open.”
I give the long driveway one last lingering look. If she’s more than a few yards away, I won’t be able to hear her. My vampiric sense has deadened, but my hearing has grown sharper than ever. The crunch of gravel from a mile down the road tells me she’s almost home.
“Ah, brother, you’re making my favorite.” Gaius appears in the doorway to the kitchen. The silk robe he wears is easily worth more than the grapes brought in this harvest. “Animelles.”
Hadrian smacks Gaius’s hand with the prongs before he can snag one of the fried testicles from the hot pan. “I thought it fitting, as this is the anniversary of our first year here.”
“One year,” muses Gaius. “Hard to believe, as so much has changed.”
Everything had changed. This land is no longer ours. We’re guests in our own house. But not one of us has any inclination to leave. Not when our mates love the land.
That is the most important change. We are all happily mated. And not one of our mates is psychotic or sadistic.
“You’ve got some balls on you, honey,” says Cari as she comes up behind Hadrian.
“They’re
