United Eden

Copyright © 2011 by Nicole Williams

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Al Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without express permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

Cover Image Copyright © Eric Wil iams 2011

For My Mom:

For all the reasons.

For the ones youre aware of and the ones youre not.

And for showing me unconditional love before I even knew it had a name.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER ONE

SEEING WHITE

In one years time Id lost a lot. My parents, an Ivy League scholarship, enrol ment at a state school I was al but failing out of, and”not to forget the big one”my life. That was a lot for a twenty year old to take, but in return Id been given Immortality, a family by al definitions of the word save for blood relation, friends that would as wil ingly lay down their lives for me as I would them, and a man named Wil iam Hayward.

The man who didnt only have my love, but my soul. A man I never believed was out there, a man who I never knew was meant for me once I did find him, and a man Id come to accept I deserved.

Wed fought with our lives to be together, nearly losing them on more than one occasion, but we knew death was a risk worth facing if thats what it took to make our wish come true”to spend an eternity together. Wed settle for nothing less and knew better than to expect anything more.

Our wish was one night from coming true.

Careful, Bryn! Cora hol ered at the far end of the white tent”although considering it was stadium-sized, tent seemed the wrong word. Unlike you, that bone china and Italian crystal are actual y breakable.

Im being as careful as Bryn-possible, I said, creeping up to the ladders top-rung, a string of Chinese lanterns and stubborn determination in hand. I dont know whose bright idea it was to set the tables before the lighting had been strung, I mumbled, stretching as far as my muscles would pul , raising up on my toes in order to thread the wire through the evasive hook, but someone is tempting fate.

That someone would be me, Abigail said, fussing over a floral centerpiece spil ing over with magnolias and orchids so white they were blinding.

And if Id known Cora would assign you a ladder and light-stringing detail, I would stil have the breakables off the premises and wrapped in a layer of bubble-wrap. Something of a smile pul ed up her mouth. A triple layer of bubble-wrap.

For someone whose humor Id assumed was as dry as the Serengeti, Abigail could hang with the best of them.

Bryns doing just fine, Cora assured, sounding like she was trying to convince herself.

Of course . . .”I popped to my very tip toes, prima bal erina style” . . . I am, I said, the strand of lanterns reaching their destination just in time for the former wobbling of the ladder to break out into seismic quaking that would have registered a ten on the Richter scale.

Steady, Bryn, Abigail lilted, rushing my direction.

Too late! Cora hol ered, coming at me from the other way. Shes going down!

I held on for another moment, but I was only delaying the inevitable. Fact of life: when a ladder and I went in hand to hand combat, the ladder would always win.

Sorry, Abigail! I yel ed, spil ing over the other side of the ladder, hoping the col ateral damage would be minimal, but
knowing
it wouldnt.

I was expecting to slam into table or china or crystal or grass-padded earth; the one thing I wasnt anticipating were a firm pair of hands.

Why, hel o there, his voice dropped an octave until it hit the desired level of overdone seduction. You didnt need to go to such extreme measures if you wanted to end up in my arms. Al you had to do was ask.

Youre mental, I said, blowing away the mess of hair covering my face. But thanks, I offered, finding myself positioned in Patricks purposeful y flexed arms. His gift of teleportation was as equal a blessing as it was a curse.

Youre a life saver, Patrick, Abigail said, circling the table Id nearly face-planted into.

I dont know about that, but I am a saver of al material things of a fragile state. He grinned, looking down at me. Including you.

The way he was staring into my eyes, so intently it was almost possessive, made me uncomfortable. I shifted my eyes and my body, trying to free myself from both embraces.

He released me, but only just enough so that my body slid ful form down his and now, as if things werent awkward enough, Patricks face was flushing. His face
never
flushed.

Eh, Patrick? I said, peering at Abigail and Cora who both looked as uneasy as I felt. You can let go of my hips now.

His grip loosened, but the intensity in his eyes didnt recede. In al of Patrick and my encounters, many had been of the close kind. Toppling, somersaulting, sparring, flat-out brawling our way through strength and talent training had positioned our bodies in more precarious positions than Wil iam would like to know about, but never, not a single exception, had I witnessed the emotion spil ing from Patricks eyes at present.

Il give you one more second to remove them of your own accord before I pry them off her hips, a good-natured voice emitted behind us, causing Patricks eyes and hands to fal in unison.

I spun around, in ful elation mode, leaping into another set of arms at the same time I threw my arms around his neck . . . and I was al instinct from then on. You made it, I whispered, feeling a months worth of tension dissipate in a heartbeat.

Wil iams face pul ed back from our embrace, just enough so he could look me hard in the eyes. Oh god, Id missed those eyes. Did you real y think I wouldnt? his voice was light, but his expression wasnt. It was as serious as Id seen it. That Id miss the day where I was promised an eternity with you?

I was stil waiting to wake up from the dream. When Charles had made a promise that Id become a Hayward in exchange for Wil iam fulfil ing his chosen one cal ing, I wasnt sure whether fate had decided to fight fair or if it was just building me up so the fal would be that much harder.

The rumors had started the day after, the same day Wil iam had been sent off on a mission to such a remote location the satel ite phone had a tough time holding a connection (that should have been my first hint that fate was putting together a particularly nasty surprise). The rumors that Charles and the Council had no intention of granting a Betrothal or a Unity to Wil iam and me, but since they couldnt renege on their promise for fear of Wil iam reneging on his, I would be promised to a Hayward as Charles had so careful y put it that day in his office, but not
the
Hayward I wanted.

There was only one other Hayward and it was the one that had just had his fingers and stare fastened on me. When Id let my mind wander down that path, Patrick and me United . . . wel , lets just say there wasnt enough time in the day to cringe, cry, or convulse. But I wasnt letting Charles, the Council, Patrick, or fear in general ruin anything more between Wil iam and me. I was marching forward with him, head high and hopes even higher.

No, of course I didnt think
youd
miss it, I said, sweeping my gaze over him, taking in as much of him as I could. But there are these little things known as circumstance, chance, and the Council that have gotten in the way before.

You have so little faith in me then? he whispered, his eyes fal ing to my lips right before his mouth did. His kiss was sweet, succulent, and . . .

short. He eyed me, waiting for an answer

I have faith that goes beyond faith in you, I said, wetting my lips, waiting for more. He wasnt getting, or acting on, my suggestion. However, I have no faith when it comes to the three Cs previously mentioned.

He grinned, nothing but affection in it. I dont know how I make it weeks without you, he said, leaning his forehead into mine. Kiss me.

I dont think Id ever obeyed a demand with such speed or wil ingness. My lips melted against his, yielding to the movement of his. It had been next to a month since Id had those lips on mine and I was going to make sure I made up for as much lost time as I could.

It was the exaggerated clearing of a throat behind me that broke through the al encompassing fog Wil iam and I produced. I pul ed”
pried”
away from him, peering over my shoulder, already knowing who the throat-clearer was.

Another, Wil iam coaxed, nudging me with his forehead. When I didnt respond as I had on every other instance when hed made a similar request, he glared without severity at Patrick. Dont mind him. Hes just jealous.

More like nauseous. Patricks eyes rol ed to the sky. You might not have to partake in minion duties like Betrothal Bal set-up because youre master of the universe, but the rest of us are busy.

The trio of us girls jacked our eyebrows sky-high. Up until saving my fal from ten rungs up, Patrick had made it a point not to show his face since the last tent stake had been driven into the ground an hour before dawn this morning. Even Nathanial and Joseph had bailed after the Texas-sized tent had been set, excusing themselves to man-work out on the endless acres of the Hayward estate. We were girls, but not stupid ones and certainly knew our way around a working farm by now. Harvest was months done, and seeding didnt come for a few more. The only man-work being undertaken in the fields today was Betrothal Bal set-up evasion.

Yeah, wel I dont have the feminine eye it takes for these kinds of things, Wil iam threw back, situating my feet back on the floor. By the way, I love what youve done with the place. Its got Patrick written al over it, Wil iam teased, sweeping his gaze over the décor that was white, white, and white.

When Id asked Abigail why we were setting the place up like we were a bunch of anti-colorists, shed said this was the traditional way of doing a Betrothal Bal . White symbolized the color of purity and was therefore fitting for the occasion. However, this didnt quite equate with me. When I thought of my Betrothal to Wil iam, my thoughts were anything but pure.

At least Im confident enough in my manhood to let my feminine side make an appearance every decade or so, Patrick fired back, plucking an orchid from the centerpiece of the nearest table. If looks could kil , Immortal thing aside, Abigail would have obliterated Patrick where he stood.