Gates of Paradise (Blue Bloods 7)

Besides, what more could she ask for when everything was perfect? There was a lot to do in the underworld, and they were going to make it beautiful. Things were going to change around here, now that the wolves were free. Hell was about to freeze over.

“We’re going to transform this place,” Kingsley said. “No one will be here who doesn’t want to be here, and those who stay will help us rebuild.”

Their bonding ceremony was going to take place somewhere that would have been inconceivable a few short years ago: a rose garden, one that Kingsley had tended with his own hands.

He stood in the middle of the flowers. He was still Kingsley, his hair rakish, his clothes just a little askew. And what was Mimi wearing? She didn’t care. She could have been wearing rags; perhaps she was. It didn’t matter.

Kingsley handed her a bouquet.

“Still sure you don’t want a big party? With your friends, or whoever?”

She shook her head. “Jack is gone, and Bliss is one of the wolves now. Schuyler and I were never close. Oliver, maybe, but he’s so busy. It doesn’t matter. Everyone else…they’re not important. Only you.”

“Shall we, then?” Kingsley asked.

She nodded.

Mimi said the words she had been waiting to say her whole immortal lifetime, words that would matter to the person hearing them.

A new bond. To replace the old one. One of their own making, of their own choice.

“I give myself to you,” Kingsley said, hands in hers. “And I accept you for who you are. You are the world to me.”

Mimi smiled at him, a blazing, terrifyingly happy smile, and she felt as if she would burst from joy. Kingsley swept her off her feet and into his arms, and she knew she had made the right decision.

But then again, Mimi Force was rarely ever wrong.

SIXTY-FOUR

Bliss

ne of the things that was so wonderful about living out of time was that you could live in any moment and any place in history. Last week they were in Vienna, in the 1920s. Then they’d spent the summer in Newport in 1870, and bounced around to the early ’90s Seattle. They followed the rules of timekeeping, making sure never to leave a mark or cause a ripple.

They were only there to observe and to guard, to make sure that history unfolded the way it was supposed to. So far, there were no other rifts, no mirrored passages.

Bliss had been a Texas cheerleader and a New York socialite, but she decided she liked this new incarnation best. She was a member of the Praetorian Guard, one of a pack of wolves, and mate to its leader, Fenrir, who would always be Lawson to her.

It had happened naturally—there were no words exchanged, no pretty vows, but Bliss understood they were past language, past needing a ceremony. They were mated and it was done.

The pack was scattered over the timeline with the rest of the wolves. Edon and Ahramin were broken; some things were beyond repair. As for the boys, Mac and Rafe, they had delighted in their newfound freedom, strutting in the armor of the Praetorians once again.

Once in a while Bliss and Lawson would visit Oliver in New York and Schuyler in California. Bliss missed her Aunt Jane, but she understood the Watcher’s choice to return; to follow Gabrielle and Michael back into Paradise. Like many of the Fallen, Jane had tired of earth and its sorrows.

But Bliss was tired of grieving. Now was the time for joy and contentment.

In the past few years, she and Lawson had lived all over the world, in every place and time, and yet they always returned to the marvelous forest encampment with the fanciful tree houses that the wolves had built. It wasn’t far from Arthur’s cavern, and it felt most like home. Lawson liked living in the open air, liked living in the trees. His wolf soul needed the forest, needed the refuge of wood and leaf.

“We’re finally home,” Bliss said, coming up behind him and putting her arms around his strong torso. She held him tight and leaned against his arms.

He turned around and smiled. “You are home to me,” he said, and nuzzled her cheek.

She sighed. She had been looking for a real home all her life, and finally discovered that home was in Lawson’s arms.

SIXTY-FIVE

Schuyler

chuyler couldn’t stop staring at the boy in the library. It couldn’t be, could it? It couldn’t be him. He looked different somehow, even if the physical attributes were the same: the golden hair, the sloe-eyed green eyes. But it was impossible. He was dead. It had been three years already, but it was as if it had happened yesterday.