Chapter 21 Chapter 21
Chapter 21
SELENE
His whole body seemed to tense, muscles going rigid. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and even from my window, I could see he was shaking. With what? Rage? Frustration? Something else entirely?
And then—and I must have imagined this, must have been seeing things like Derek said—his eyes caught the moonlight. But instead of reflecting white like they should have, they glowed. Actually glowed, with that same red color, similar to the amber that I'd seen in the waiter's eyes.
I blinked hard, certain I was hallucinating. But when I opened my eyes again, the glow was still there. Derek stood in the garden with eyes that shone like a wolf's in headlights, bright and unnatural and impossible.
My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a gasp.
As if he'd heard the tiny sound despite being two floors below and behind glass, Derek's head snapped up. He looked directly at my window, directly at me, and even across the distance I felt the intensity of that gaze. It was predatory, sharp, pinning me in place like prey frozen before a hunter.
For a heartbeat, we stared at each other. Then I stumbled backward, away from the window, my heart hammering against my ribs.
This wasn't possible. People's eyes didn't glow. They didn't flash gold or amber or any color that wasn't natural. There had to be an explanation—some reflection, some trick of the moonlight and distance and my overwrought imagination.
But I couldn't shake the image. Couldn't forget the way Derek had looked standing in that garden, bathed in moonlight, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
There are things about our family, about what we are, that you don't know.
Rosalie's words came back to me, taking on a new and terrifying significance. What we are. Not who. What.
I moved to the bed and sat down heavily, my hand automatically going to my stomach. I was carrying Derek's child. Part of him was growing inside me right now, cells dividing, forming a tiny human that would be half mine and half...
Half what?
My phone buzzed on the nightstand—a text from Sarah.
You left so quickly! Are you okay? That looked intense with Derek on the dance floor.
I didn't know how to respond. How could I explain what I'd seen when I didn't understand it myself? How could I tell her about the glowing eyes, the strange deference, Rosalie's cryptic warnings?
Just tired, I typed back. Long night. Talk tomorrow?
Of course. Love you. Call if you need anything.
I set the phone aside and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind raced through possibilities, each one more absurd than the last.
Maybe Derek had some rare medical condition that made his eyes reflective. Maybe the waiter had the same condition. Maybe it was genetic, and that's what Rosalie had been trying to warn me about—some hereditary disorder in the Sterling family that my child might inherit.
But that didn't explain the fear in people's eyes. Didn't explain why they gave Derek such a wide berth, why they bowed their heads in submission.
Unless...
No. I was being ridiculous. There were no such things as monsters, as supernatural creatures, as anything that couldn't be explained by science and reason. This was the twenty-first century, and whatever was going on with Derek and his family had a logical explanation.
It had to.
I must have dozed off eventually because I woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing even, pretending to be asleep as Derek moved quietly through the room.
I heard him in the bathroom, the water running as he brushed his teeth. Then the closet, the soft rustle of clothes being removed and changed. He was getting ready for bed, going through the normal motions of normal life.
The bed dipped as he climbed in on his side, maintaining the careful distance we always kept. I felt him settle, heard his breathing slow and deepen. Within minutes, he was asleep.
But I lay awake, hyperaware of his presence next to me. This man I'd married, this stranger I'd shared a bed with for two years, this person whose child was growing inside me—who was he really? What was he hiding?
And why did I have the terrible feeling that discovering the truth might be more dangerous than continuing to live in ignorance?
My hand curled protectively over my stomach as the first light of dawn began creeping through the curtains. Whatever secrets Derek was keeping, whatever impossible things I'd seen tonight, I needed to know the truth.
For my sake and the baby's sake even if that truth terrified me.
I woke late the next morning to an empty bed and sunlight streaming through the windows. My body felt heavy, exhausted from the gala and the emotional turmoil of the previous night. For a moment, I just lay there, wondering if any of it had been real.
The glowing eyes. The strange deference. Rosalie's cryptic warnings.
Maybe I'd dreamed it all.
But when I checked my phone, I found a text from Derek sent at six AM: Gone to the office. Don't wait up tonight.
On a Sunday. Of course.
I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the exhaustion. My stomach was surprisingly settled this morning—the baby giving me a reprieve, perhaps. Small mercies.
Downstairs, I found Mrs. Chen, our housekeeper, preparing breakfast in the kitchen. She looked up as I entered, her kind face creasing into a smile.
"Mrs. Sterling! I didn't expect you up so early after the gala. Can I get you something to eat?"
"Just some toast and tea, please," I said, sliding onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.