Wait, Am I A Zombie? [BOOK 3]

Even if somehow—by the lunacy of all the asshole deities tuning in to mess with my life for shits and giggles—we did manage to fit an entire new life in our schedule it was anyone's guess how we'd be as parents. For all we'd been through, Bane and I were still strangers to each other. I didn't trust him; he didn't know how to be honest. There was a rift in communication that good sex wasn't going to balm over.

"I thought—" Bane started quietly, eyes fixed on those tests so hard I was surprised they didn't change to positive by his will alone.

They didn't.

Not when his jaw clenched and cracked on a break. Not when red took over every millimeter of his eyes. Not when blood trickled from the broken hands he still clasped, splashing on the mauve carpet. They didn't even change when tears rolled down my husband's cheeks.

Woah.

It was easy to paint Bane the villain—he acted like it enough—but I always forgot that underneath the king, vampire, and past lives he was just like me: simple hopes.

Fragile and precious and devastating.

There were a fair amount of times when I hated Bane—truly didn't even like him as a person. But there were also times when he surprised me, made me laugh, made me feel capable of everything and anything.

This was one of those times. It wasn't that Bane was breaking down, it was that he allowed me to see it.

So even though I was still mad, and had every right to be, I put my hang ups on a hook and pulled up my big girl pants. Dropping to my knees, I reached forward and gathered Bane in my arms, his head to my breast, and held him.

There were many things I'd grown to accept from my husband. His brutality, his lies, his evasions, his slyness, his hunger, his humor. What I'd never thought to encounter was his vulnerability. Tears soaking into my shirt, blood dripping on my thighs, his mind open and frazzled. This was a man lost in grief, himself, and the past.

What the hell do I do?

But even as the thought came I realized there was nothing to do. There'd never been anything I could do to help Bane work through his shit, because it was his shit. What I should have done was never have taken it on in the first place. Set boundaries. Stood my ground. Relied on myself because I'd lived a life. Not a fantastic or even amazing one, but it was lived by me. And damn it, I lived it decently enough. So as much as I wanted to be his rock and support, I needed to be something else even more.

"It's not fair," I said into Bane's hair, gently pulling back and tipping up his face. Oh, did Bane ugly cry. "Not what you did to me and not what was done to you."

His gaze flashed, hurt and angry, but I didn't stop. "But it's in the past. We're here now and we need to figure out where to go from here."

"Do not talk to me about fairness, Peaches," he spat without any real heat, a reflex.

"Don't snap at me because you didn't get what you want," I fired back. Bane was so different like this, open and raw and in pain. Obviously, in pain. And fuck if I didn't feel horrible for rubbing salt in that wound, but I knew that this was one of those times where a reality check was necessary. Because reality was I wasn't pregnant, he was a manipulative prick, there was someone trying to kidnap and/or murder me, and I had a new position in life that I was sorely unprepared for.

"We need to figure out . . . so much, Bane. Right here. Right now. There is no backing out, stepping down, or divorce. We've got each other until who knows when and we can't keep going like this."

"I know," he said softly, prying my hands from his face and hanging his head. "I know."

Reaching toward his slightly loosened, already-healed fists, I asked. "So what do we do?"

"I—" he stopped, inhaling deeply before overlapping our hands and giving mine a squeeze. "I open my mind to you."

"Um... yeah, but what if what happened with Luther happens with you? I don't want to be run through again."

"You've been practicing." It was a statement, one loaded with pride. Even if I didn't think I could do it, Bane knew. My husband knew I could do anything. But anything was a tall order, and I wasn't Jesus.

"You'll be fine." His reassuring smile dipped as he added, "I never got run through with a sword before, but I did it a fair amount."

"Oh, even better."

After a long moment, Bane lowered his eyes and murmured. "You don't have to do this. Who I was is not who I am?"

"Yeah, well, I hate who you are now and I'm hoping to bring back the person that your friends all love. I wanna be with that guy, not whoever this douchenozzle is."

"Ouch."

I shrugged my shoulders and plunged right in. Thankfully, Bane'd already lowered his shields. The second I stepped into his mind it was like accidentally sliding your finger across the volume button on your phone and hearing an angsty alt-rock anthem. It was painful and overwhelming until it just wasn't anymore.

The voices stopped and I found myself in a woodshop, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of carvings; some were animals and people, other shapes and repeating patterns, and a few just words scored into the wood.

It was different from Samantha's mind in every way. Hers had been an enormous field, with various plants, each with their own unique smell. In Samantha's mind, I could see all the plants, smell each fragrance without being taken down by the others. Hers had been a wild beauty, but Bane's was more hoarder's paradise.

There was no clear grouping system, no sense of where it started or ended. I could get lost in Bane's mind ridiculously easy.

Raising my hand, I downed a metaphysical shot. Here's to hoping I don't.

There was no way to see everything in my husband's mind, so I instead went for the more interesting wood carvings, the ones that had STORY all over them.

A carving of an oasis scene gave me a glimpse of a younger Bane running through the desert, fear carved into the gaunt hallows of his face. I didn't try to torpedo further.

An intricately carved diamond piece painted red showed Bane in a low-ceilinged room banging some hot asian chick on a floor mattress. Her head snapped forward, eyes sparking red before she reared up and sank her teeth into his neck. Bane just laughed and kept on fucking.

The second I left that memory I wanted to destroy it. No, no, no, Peaches. Bane had a life before you. Yeah, but there was having a life and having sex right in front of my eyes. Even if it was in a memory, there was still a tinge of cheating mixed into my emotions.

Irrational? Sure.

I carefully continued to pick my way through Bane's memories, learning a little of why his friends cared so much. It wasn't until I watched him with a baby that I understood a fundamental part of my husband.

Some Northern country where winter lasted nine months and summer was counted in days. Everywhere I looked through Bane's eyes snow covered vegetation made visible by the moon's light and not a single thing else. This place just hummed with otherworldly energy. Like Ireland before Christians rolled in. It was all magic, tall tales, and gods.

Bane was with a group of seven vampires, all looking sickly with open wounds and missing limbs. Whatever had happened to them had been horrendous.

They were hiding behind rotted logs and bushes doing that weird vampire way of speaking where their mouths moved but no sound came out. That stopped in an instant. When a baby cried.

Bane was the first to get to the little tyke tucked into a hollow tree wrapped in a frayed and stained cloth. The others threw themselves at him, clawing and snapping, trying to get the baby, but he fended them off until they ran out of energy.

He spared the child a glance and if I'd been him I would have recoiled. The baby was near death, skin and lips a sickly blue. A giant, red lump grew off the side of his head, next to his ear while white-gray eyes looked out, unseeing.

I couldn't hear Bane's thoughts in the past. All I could do was look through his eyes, feel the barely-there tremble in his arms, the creak of his locked jaw. My vision went dark as Bane closed his eyes, ignoring everything for a second before opening them again. He brought the child to eye level, touched its forehead with his own, and then carefully, precisely, snapped the baby's neck and sunk his teeth into his shoulder.

Man, did I want to drop the totem of a jagged, broken eye. But this was too important to turn away from.

When Bane was done, he left his group of vampires and dug a grave a few hundred feet away, tucking the child into the earth before muttering something in Arabic and re-covering the ground. There was something horrible and noble and so fucking sad about my husband cutting deep gashes into his neck, arms, and legs, then laying back on the bark of a tree as the other vampires feebly sucked at his blood, children themselves. And when Bane could, he stroked their hair.

Enough.

I pulled away, getting what I needed from the memories. "That was fucked up."

"Which part?"

"All of it," I said quietly, looking into my husband's eyes again.

"I never claimed to be a saint."

"Well, I didn't know you were this kind of a villain."

I expected Bane to defend himself. Claim altruistic motives for saving his people or whatever. But he didn't. He admitted to the crime and didn't try to offer up any reason.

"And you're fine with that?"

His eyes sparked. "I will never be fine with that."

I was glad. As horrible as it seemed, I was glad that Bane didn't feel good about it, that it was still imprinted on his memory. He could have chosen to forget the horrible memories, bury them. But they were out, beside all the rest, on equal footing.

A metaphysical table rested between us, strewn with his shit. Mountains of it. Only seemed fair to let him see what I was working with.

I mentally dragged Bane into my memories. He didn't have the ability to stroll around and pick what he wanted to see; I had to put it on him. Shoving my experiences down his throat like he was a goose and I was hell bent on making foie gras. Mine weren't totems or flowers but songs, the ones that had imprinted specific memories. Queen's We are the Champions for my high school graduation. Johnny Cash's You are My Sunshine from my mother's lips as she rocked me to sleep when I still had my canopy Barbie princess bed. Barenaked Ladies If I had a million dollars for the first time I ever paid for a check with my parents.

Unlike me, Bane didn't pull back, he basked in the rhythm of my life, enjoying the bubbly, poppy, alt-rock universe of my mind. Every last second of it.

"Ah, habibti," Bane groaned softly, as I released him and let him back in his body. "You deserve so much better than me."

Does he seriously not get it? Frustration snapped me into motion. I straddled him on the chair, practically growling as I dug my hands in his hair and forced him to look me dead in my eyes. "No, Bane. What I deserve is you at your most amazing. I deserve your absolute best effort to be a man I can't even imagine living without. A man that's more than a husband or friend. You, Bane, need to be the love of my life. Do you get that?"

"How do I—?" he shook his head, shocked, uncertain, and completely lost.

I knew what I was asking of Bane was a lot. Beyond a lot. Maybe even impossible. But it was the God's honest truth.

Plus, I was worth it.

"You can start," I whispered, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss. Not even. More like a touch of lips and a shared breath. "By apologizing."

"I'm sorry," he said instantly, without a hint of hesitation.

"For?"

"Withholding the truth. Lying. Avoiding your questions. Manipulating you. Putting you in danger. Hurting you."

There was more to say, more between us, but this was the beginning. Fresh and bare. This was a seed that could actually take root, a future that could grow into something good.

I ran my lips against his again, sharing another breath. "Decent beginning. Now, how are you going to start making up for it?"

Bane's lids lowered as his hands moved up to the backs of my thighs, gripping tightly as he stood up. "With orgasms, a bubble bath, and chocolate chip cookies."

"Double chocolate chip."

One hand slipped between my legs, finding my clit through my jeans. "Whatever you need."

Chapter Ten: Can I Get My Crown and Scepter Now? Dang.

I'd always dreamed of having multiple professionals work on me to make me into a stunning Mia Thermopolis, but it was a lot less fun, a lot more time consuming, and way more elaborate than even the movie made it seem. There was no champagne. No tray of yummy pastries or snacks. No comfortable chair to plant your feet in. No relaxing massage or mani-pedi. It was all pulling, stretching, cinching, pinching, and stuffing.

All in all, I was one more cucumber slice away from cutting a bitch.

"How come I've never seen this place on TV?" I asked Samantha as she stood still as a snake a few feet from me, engulfed in a similar cloud of half a dozen beauticians spraying, smearing, and dabbing hundreds of different things on us. "They're always showing the inside of King Tut's tomb."

"Do you believe what you see on TV is all there is?" Zeno mouthed without really moving her carefully painted lips.

She had a point, but this was different. This was a massive, beautifully decorated pyramid with huge murals telling histories I'd never read about, objects with all sorts of jewels, metals, and designs. You couldn't hide away such an ornate pyramid.

"You can with magic."

If I could've moved my hand I would have slapped my forehead. Right. Supernaturals.

"So this coronation is more of a coming out than anything, right?" Vampire ceremonies were still a big fat mystery to me. Why they used the same words for things as humans I had no clue (though Casper did argue that the Brit's stole the terminology and a few vampire rites and slapped their flag on it.).

"Think play," Samantha cut in, dismissing one necklace in favor of another. "Opening night at the theater, Georgia. This is your first formal appearance and it can either be one that wins you an award or sends you off the billboards all together."

Riiiiiight.

"So words of advice? Any vampire cultural norms I should be aware of?" Our crew acted like a strange medley of various decades, but I'd also noticed inherently vampire-ish things they did. Baring a fang. Flashing red eyes. Scenting like a damn dog. There were probably a whole slew of other habits I didn't even know.

"Never offer—"

"My wrist? My neck?"

Zeno scowled before continuing. "Never offer anything you're not willing to have destroyed, and never take anything without knowing the price."

Rolling my eyes, I muttered, "Can she be more ominous?"

Samantha chuckled softly. "You've done amazing so far in a world completely inhospitable to humans, Georgia. I believe you will be absolutely fine here as well."

"Cool. Cool. Cool. But just to re-check, all I gotta do is cross a sea of predators, give a speech, and do a blood oath right?" Forcing my voice to sound casual was even harder than getting the words out. But this was my reality—my very messed up, caveman reality. Like who even did blood packs anymore?

"In so many words," Samantha supplied easily, slipping the most delicate gold bracelet I'd ever scene over her wrist.

"Which means?"

"Yes. Cross the room. Be brave and calm. It's a dominance play. The speech shows forethought and intelligence. Their oath is loyalty; without firm allegiance from your Merchants you're no different than a child playing dress up," Zeno said.

"But they have to be loyal to me."

"Not necessarily," Samantha said in a voice that was just way too light for the topic. "They could reject and overthrow you."

"Huh?"

"Unlikely," Zeno scoffed, slipping her feet into a pair of deadly looking heels. She tapped a foot and a small serrated blade popped from the pointed toe. "My brother has ensured their cooperation."

"How?" Peaches comin' at ya with the one-word-questions.

"He has his ways," Samatha said smoothly with an undercurrent of violence.

Zeno, as always, went for the jugular. "Bribery, extortion, and murder."

"You're not serious! Bane wouldn't do that."

Zeno looked at me like I'd grown another head. "We have had this conversation. My brother will do anything and everything for you."

Pfft. Not anymore.

Zeno stepped down to tower over me in those deadly shoes and what only a blind person would call a dress. "Make no mistake, malikati saghira, your husband is not human and does not play by their rules. Our world does not suffer human trivialities of good and bad or adhere to a moral compass of right and wrong. We are predators."

That "we" rang in my mind purposefully, encompassing a lot more than just Bane and his crew. Zeno was smacking me in the face with a harsh fact I wasn't ready to really deal with: joining the not-human club of numero uno predators.

I liked to play DnD (Damsel in Distress) a lot because I kinda was one, but hell if I admitted to the badass I'd become. It was hard reconciling Kmart Peaches with Queen Peaches. They were one and the same, but seemed to exist in alternate universes; ones I hadn't gotten around to merging yet.

Whelp. That was a problem for another day.

I tuned back into the conversation at play. "Just so we're on the same page, you're saying Bane is willing to murder for me?"

"What makes you think he hasn't already?"

Feelings meet denial box. Get comfy, you won't be coming out for a while.

"Georgia," Samantha interrupted, coming to stand in front of me. "It's time."

I blinked, noting that the crowd of stylists were gone already. My reflection caught my eyes; I wasn't sure who I was looking at. Couldn't be me. The purple hair was way more pronounced and weaved through with pink and white pearls. My face was a thing of ethereal beauty like those elves in Lord of the Rings, all silvers and sparkles and dewy shine—contoured to within an inch of its life. The dress was honestly hella plain, more sheath with long sleeves and a hint of cleavage, but that worked because the color was a striking crimson. The person in the mirror looked intense, like all they had to do was whisper a word to collapse a country.

I don't recognize myself.

"You will in time," Samantha said softly, coming to block my line of sight. "New skin takes a while before it feels comfortable."

Zeno clicked her tongue, and Samantha gave me a last reassuring smile before both women left the room.

"Alright, Peaches," I said to my reflection, clapping my hands together. "You got this girl. You look amazeballs. That hair, that ass! You're gonna kill it. It's gonna be great!" Is the thing I shouldn't have said because standing alone in front of a massive atrium with the only vampires I knew on the other side of the room wasn't exactly comforting. It was terrifying and brought me right back to lunch time in my middle school cafeteria.

Things only got worse when hushed murmurs flared because someone was projecting her thoughts like it was opening day at Fenway. Calm down. It's fine.

I desperately wanted to reach out to Bane but he was sorta part of the problem and our relationship was Chutes and Ladders with about a hundred times more chutes.

But that was fine because I'd already won. I'd slayed the dragon. This was just a walk to the badge of honor—my freaking crown. Sure there were no cheers, and a few people looked like they really wanted to snack on my neck, but everything would be fine.