Page 120 of Power's Fall
He couldn’t wait to get there.
Epilogue
“Calling to gloat, Grand Master?” Eric leaned against the stone railing that bordered this section of Triskelion Castle’s roof. Far below, the Irish sea pounded against the dark stone cliffs, as restless and unhappy as he was.
“That would be beneath me,” Juliette replied.
Eric snorted. “You’re keeping score.”
“Possibly,” she conceded. “Also, I’m winning.”
“Bribery,” he declared, forcing himself to banter with her. “You bribed them.”
Instead of a quick retort, Juliette was silent. Shit. He’d insulted her.
Eric turned away from the sea view, head slumped in momentary defeat. The relationship between the Trinity Masters and Masters’ Admiralty had been destroyed during World War II, rocky when they first reconnected years ago after the last fleet admiral died, and only in the past six months had he and Juliette gotten to a place where they could forge a stronger alliance.
The first step was the Trinity Council meeting.
Eric wanted to rip someone in half every time he thought about that cursed afternoon in Dublin. He was barely holding it together, and now he’d let his inner turmoil spill into this conversation and pissed Juliette off.
“Eric,” she said gently, “are you okay?”
Ah. Maybe he hadn’t insulted her. He was just shit at hiding his feelings.
Eric walked back into his apartment on the top floor of the castle, leaving the door open so the cold wind could whip through the large, open living area and kitchen.
“Am I that easy to read?”
“No. If I hadn’t been at that meeting, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the fact that you sound…different than normal.”
He had a feeling she’d been about to say “sad.”
“There’s a lot happening.” It wasn’t a lie. There were half a dozen active major operations he was keeping an eye on. Some, but not all of them, a result of the decisions they’d made at the Trinity Council meeting. The Crimean blackmailer issue was resolved, but now they had to figure out who “the Spaniard” was, and how the hell he knew so much about them.
Put one fire out and another flares up.
“There is,” she agreed. “But that’s not why you sound like your heart is broken.”
Eric sank into a chair and put his head in his hand. Fuck.Fuck. His heartwasfucking broken, and hearing the words made the ripping pain in his chest ten times worse.
“Nothing is set in stone. Not yet.” Her words were soft, comforting, but he didn’t want comfort, or to think about the fact that, technically, Nikolett wasn’t married yet. She hadn’t even met with her trinity.
Somehow that made it worse.
Eric couldn’t bring himself to speak, his throat tight with the need to roar or cry.
Juliette sighed audibly. “You love Nikolett.” Now the words were direct and no-nonsense.
He smiled faintly. This was the Juliette he was used to.
“You love Nikolett,” she repeated, “and are using your position to make sure you can never be together.”
It was the only way he could keep her safe. Every woman he’d ever loved, from his wives to the woman he’d thought of as his little sister, had died. And not peacefully in their beds. They’d all died horribly, in pain and scared with their last breaths.
He’d bolted upright in bed after waking from a nightmare of a blood-soaked Nikolett dying in his arms, more times than he could count.
“I’m sure you have a reason…”