Faded Realms Read online

  Throughout the song, the images change back and forth. I stare at the runes intensely, no doubt looking to anyone watching me the exact opposite of how I should look with Mason singing me his declaration of love. I feel a sense of déjà vu as the last notes of the song fade into the night sky. Like I had heard this song before in another time. Looking closer at the runes that were still visible, I thought back to the dreams that I had experienced of Mason and myself in the past, trying to see if there was a resemblance to the markings he had then. Comparing the two images in my head, they don’t seem to match, but still the sense of déjà vu remains.

  The roar of the crowd brings me back to the present, their noise so immense that it still hurts my sensitive hearing even with my ear plugs in. Mason glances at me shyly and I let my emotion shine through, trying to convey with my gaze how much his song means to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve the depths of this man’s emotion for me. But I will do my best to treasure it for the rest of my existence. He, Damon, and Beckham have become the very breath that I breathe.

  Mason starts his next hit with the rest of the band and I turn away from the stage, trying to recover and collect myself from the wave of emotions that I just experienced. Inexplicably, I feel the urge to call Damon. The part of my soul that belongs to him is lonely, Mason’s song somehow reminding me of the breadth of separation that currently exists between Damon and myself right now.

  I feel the guilt that immediately comes from the fact that I want to call Damon right after Mason declared his love for me to the whole world, but I let it go. I’m fast coming to the conclusion that there is something about my relationship with the three of them that was written in the stars far longer than I can comprehend and that it does little good to try and fight it.

  The phone rings and I can’t help but hold my breath, wondering if he will answer this time or if it will go to his voicemail like almost every other time since he found me at Beckham’s.

  “Eva,” comes Damon’s voice through the phone, and it’s filled with so much longing that another wave of tears appears.

  “Damon,” I say in a tear-soaked voice.

  “Are you alright? Where are you? Do you need me?” he immediately starts asking, and my tears become outright sobs at the fact that he still sounds so concerned about me even with the fact that he’s been so mad at me.

  “I’m fine, just missing you,” I whisper, trying to get ahold of my emotions. I can feel Mason start to belt a love ballad out on the stage behind me and the magic of his voice makes it almost impossible to control my emotions.

  “I miss you more than the sun misses the moon, baby,” he says.

  “I’m sorry about everything,” I tell him, my heart missing him. “Are we going to be alright?” I ask him, scared of the answer he might give me.

  “I just need time. I want you so badly. The idea that you’ve been with Beckham, that you’re in Paris right now with Mason, that I’m not there. I hate it,” he says, his voice achingly mournful. “When I lost you for those months, I prayed to God for the first time since I fell, promising him that if I found you I would make sure to treasure you for all of time and eternity, that I would do anything for you. I guess it’s just now hitting me what ‘anything’ could actually be. Sharing you forever.”

  We’re quiet for a minute, listening to the sound of one another’s breath his words running on repeat through my mind.

  “I realize that I’m asking for a lot,” I say softly. “I understand if you...”

  “Don’t say it,” he spits out vehemently, before I can even finish my sentence. “Losing you would be a fate worse than death for me. You just have to give me time. I still want to win your heart, steal it away in the night like a thief, and hold on to it forever. But so much has happened, and there seems to be so much more at play that I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to our stories. If this was always meant to be.”

  I feel relief in the idea that the same thoughts that I’ve been having have also started to run through his mind as well. Maybe I’m not going crazy.

  “Damon…” I start, but he again cuts me off.

  “Go back to Mason, Eva. Everything will be alright. Just wait for me,” he says, his voice trailing off into a whisper as if his heart is breaking as we speak.

  “Forever,” I tell him fervently, listening to the line click as he hangs up, my heart breaking a bit in the intensity of the moment. I stare at the phone, inexplicably waiting for it to provide me some kind of answer, and then I walk back to the stage. I shoot a smile at Mason, mouthing to him that I love him. I feel a little glow inside of me at the way his eyes light up from my pronouncement.

  The rest of the show passes by without incidence. I feel exhausted from the emotion of the evening and decide to go find some caffeine now that the show is over to try and wake myself up for the rest of the evening’s activities.

  Just as I’m turning to leave, Mason’s voice sounds out into the night announcing a surprise encore performance.

  “We’re going to end with a cover of one of our favorite songs. It’s one that is especially meaningful to me as it’s the song I was inspired to sing when I first caught sight of my girl.”

  I flush remembering the first concert that I attended, the night where my love story with Mason first began.

  “It’s a little song by Taking Back Sunday,” he says, before launching into the first chords of the song.

  I laugh and cry as he sings, wondering why he’s being so incredibly romantic tonight. I sing along to the words and don’t even freak out when my skin begins to glow a little. We’re in love and in Paris, and everything is going to turn out okay.

  4

  I forget all about being tired when Mason finishes the song and runs off stage. He picks me up and spins me around, looking so happy and exhilarated from the performance that it’s impossible not to feel the same joy in return. He’s sweating from working hard on the stage, but it only serves to make him even more attractive as it gives him an attractive sheen that highlights all of his perfect features.

  “Hi,” I say lamely, I’m sure grinning like a loon.

  “How are you, my love?” he asks, kissing me quickly before I can answer.

  “You were so amazing. That song you wrote, and that last song…I was sobbing for most of it because I don’t know what I did to get lucky enough to be with someone like you.”

  “We’re both lucky,” he whispers, tenderly sweeping a piece of my hair behind my ear. His eyes hold so many promises, and I want to believe in them all, to get carried away in the happiness that could be mine if they all came true. I utter a silent prayer that fate will be kind enough to me that I will be able to experience them all.

  The band comes up behind Mason, whooping and hollering over the success of the show, dissolving the romantic moment from before. Their excitement is contagious though. They are all feeling the adrenaline rush that comes with performing. Mason would go running for miles while he was on tour before I was kidnapped, trying to work off the extra adrenaline. Mason had once admitted that his after show antics had included a few wild sex sessions. While he was on tour and I was still in New York City, he would call me right after the show, I think trying to show me I had nothing to fear. I had never worried about Mason cheating on me though, I believed him when he told me how much he loved me, and naive or not, I believed he would have more respect for me than to move on with someone else before ending things with me first.

  A voice whispers in my head that I had basically done that to him, spending my time with Damon and Beckham while he was away. As I had to do constantly, I tried to get rid of the guilt that I felt and concentrate on the present. Layne was yelling about some kind of after party, but Mason was already shaking his head no before Layne’s ideas could progress any further.

  “I don’t mind if we hang out with everyone,” I reassure him, not wanting to ruin his post-concert rituals by messing up time that he could be hanging out with his band.
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  “I mind,” he replies with a sexy smile. “I have plans for us.”

  How he says “plans” seems to have multiple connotations and my body flushes under his knowing gaze as my mind concocts just what “plans” we could have. My mind automatically strays to my time with Beckham and I flush even more.

  “What are you thinking about, love?” he whispers, and I feel like I’m melting into a puddle of lust with the sexiness of his voice.

  I suddenly remember the way his markings changed during his song, and I grab his arm to look at it. The tattoos have all returned to normal, no sign of the strange runes from before.

  “What are you looking at?” he asks.

  “Your tattoos, they were changing while you were singing the song you wrote for me.”

  “They were changing?”

  I nod. “They changed into some sort of runes that I’ve never seen before. They flashed back and forth throughout the show.”

  He looks at his tattoos, puzzled. “I’ve never heard that they’ve done that before,” he says, and I hear a little doubt in his voice.

  “I didn’t imagine it,” I tell him defensively, and he looks up at me quickly, his eyes softening.

  “I didn’t think you did. There’s a lot of strange things that are happening right now. I would believe anything at this point.”

  I give a frustrated sigh. Another mystery to solve.

  He takes my chin in his hand and kisses me softly on the tip of my nose. “Everything will work out,” he promises me, and I desperately want to believe him.

  “Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I need to shower, and then it’s time for your surprise,” he answers, pulling me behind him as he starts to walk swiftly to his dressing room.

  “I thought the song was my surprise,” I tell him, feeling as I always do that he does so much more for me than I do for him.

  “Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking,” he tells me sternly, looking at me over his shoulder. “You have given me more happiness than I ever thought possible. I’m allowed to spoil you a little bit.”

  I blush and bring up his hand to my lips, brushing an affectionate kiss across his knuckles. We walk into the dressing room and as soon as the door is closed, Mason pounces on me, pushing me backwards against the door. His lips and tongue attack mine as his hands invade me through the indecently short, white cocktail dress he bought for me to wear tonight. His hands continue their slide down my back before clutching my butt. Continuing down my thighs, he lifts the back of my dress, running his fingers along my bare flesh.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Eva,” he growls, licking and kissing his way up my neck before nipping at my earlobe. He lays his forehead against mine, trying to control his breathing. My body is a live wire, every nerve standing at attention after his ministrations.

  “I’m going to go take a shower now,” he says, as if he’s trying to talk himself into it. “Then, I’m going to take you to your surprise. And then,” he growls, “You’re mine.” He lets me go but then has to immediately steady me as my legs temporarily fail me. Helping me to the couch, he leaves to go take a shower.

  I’m inexplicably nervous thinking of the night he’s just promised me. What happened with Beckham happened so suddenly that there wasn’t time to think, there wasn’t time for my mind to fill with all the insecurities that I’m currently having right now. There’s also the fact that Mason is an incubus, and while I know that Beckham and Damon had their share of an embarrassingly high amount of girls due to their insane good looks and celebrity status, Mason literally needs sex to survive. The amount of women that he must have had is staggering.

  I’m dwelling on that fact when he comes back in from the bathroom, his hair pulled back into his trademark bun. He’s dressed like the rockstar he is, tight leather pants and a loose white shirt that hangs open almost halfway down his chest. His usual array of necklaces hangs around his neck. The patch of his tattooed, golden skin raises my heartrate, and I find myself itching to reach out and undo even more of the buttons on his shirt so that the rest of his perfect chest can be revealed.

  “Hey,” he says, sitting down next to me and taking my hands in his. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I tell him, trying to quell the aching that has sprung up with the thought of him with so many other women. He feels like he’s mine, like he’s always been mine, and I absolutely hate the idea of someone touching him.

  “Tell me, love,” he says. His midnight blue eyes peer in to me and I feel like he can see all the way into me if he looks close enough.

  “I just was thinking of how many women have come before me,” I tell him, my voice heavy with distress and jealousy. “The thought of you with other women…” I close my fist and rest it on my breastbone. “It hurts right here, as unreasonable as that may be.”

  “It’s not unreasonable. The thought of you with any other man touching you makes me crazy. But you should know, every woman who came before you didn’t mean anything. I can’t even picture them now that I’ve found you.”

  I sigh, and he pulls me towards him, nuzzling my neck. “You’re the only one who has ever mattered, Eva. You have to know that.”

  I feel dumb and insecure and hypocritical, so I pull back and give him a smile, resolving to get over my fears. He’s here with me now. He’s never done anything to make me feel like I wasn’t the world to him.

  He stands up, pulling me up with him. Giving me a kiss that leaves me breathless, he leads me out the dressing room door and down the hall to a set of doors that leads outside.

  Outside, there’s a limo waiting. A prickle goes down my spine as I’m getting inside the limo, and I take a quick look around. Someone is there, waiting just outside the edges of my sight. I say nothing to Mason, uttering a silent prayer that they will only watch me tonight rather than try to do anything to ruin my evening. The feeling that I’m being watched has been ever present since I’ve returned. Whether it’s from Aiden or someone else, the silent sentinel is always nearby.

  Mason chatters about the show as we drive, pouring us both champagne and giving an excited toast to the night ahead.

  Mason begins to seduce me as we drive. My body is already ready to go after his dressing room performance, but the slow seduction in his movements almost pushes me over the edge. When he reaches for a bottle of champagne, he’s sure to brush his fingers along the edge of the hem of my dress. I feel the press of the cold glass on my neck when he pretends to look through the back window at something. He brushes against my aching breasts when he reaches over to press the button that allows him to talk to the driver.

  By the time the limo stops at our destination, I have no idea where we are, let alone what my name is. I’m needy and obsessed, desperate for Mason to quench my thirst. How did I become this person? I went from loathing any man’s touch to being desperate for my men every second of the day.

  I feel a momentary reprieve when the driver opens the door and I step out into the starry night. Looking up, I’m shocked to see that we are standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. She’s sparkling brilliantly with a million lights, and I can’t help but be in awe over her magnificence.

  Mason’s hand on my lower back brings me back to life.

  “Surprise,” he whispers, and I immediately lunge at him, throwing my arms around his neck in gratefulness. He gives a throaty laugh that sends shivers of pleasure across my skin, reigniting the need from moments before. He leads me to an elevator which opens in front of us, a uniformed attendant appearing inside.

  “Good evening Mademoiselle and Monsieur,” he says with a charming French accent and an equally charming polite bow. “Welcome to the Eiffel Tower. We are delighted to have you with us this evening.”

  We step into the elevator and descend upwards. When the doors open, and I see Paris laid out before me like a tapestry of dreams, I don’t know where to look first. I scarcely hear the attendant begi
n to talk about the menu for tonight, I’m so distracted with the beauty all around me. I give a small gasp when I see a table for two set out on the balcony.

  “We’re eating here?” I ask, overcome with emotion about how much planning must have gone into the evening. Mason flushes.

  “Is that alright? We can go somewhere else if you would like. But the food is very good here,” he says, looking so concerned about the prospect of me being unhappy that I can’t help but laugh.

  “Is this alright? This is straight out of the best dream I’ve ever had,” I squeal, taking his hand in mine and kissing it once again. He beams at me and we walk hand in hand over to the table where Mason pulls out my chair for me before sitting down himself.

  We pass hours dining on the most delicious food that I’ve ever eaten. The more I get to know Mason, the more I find out how utterly appealing and funny he actually is. Our relationship went from zero to a thousand overnight and unlike with Damon and Beckham, Mason’s tour kept me from getting to know him as well as the others.

  He has millions of stories about the band’s antics and he doesn’t hesitate to talk about Damon and Beckham. It comforts me to hear their names. I feel like whenever I’m with just one of them, the other two are always hovering above the scene, present through my longing for them. He tells a couple of stories about Damon embarrassing himself and I laugh hysterically thinking about my cocky, commanding angel ever doing anything ridiculous.

  “He had agreed to let Beckham and I pick anything we wanted if he lost the bet. So of course we tried to think of the most embarrassing thing possible,” Mason explained, waving his hands emphatically. “When he lost, Beckham suggested that we make him walk in drag down the middle of the most crowded bar in London.”

  Mason’s struggling to tell the story through his laughter and I find myself falling a little bit more in love.

  “The papers had a field day at the fact that Damon Pierce, wearing a dress, heels, and full makeup, appeared at their hottest club. He was such a good sport though, spent the whole night fending off advances. Somehow the fact that he was 6’4 and built like a linebacker didn’t give off a strong enough hint that he was actually a dude.”