𝔸𝕧𝕒

"You're not going to tell me where we're going?" I ask as Zane holds my hand and leads me down the sidewalk.

"You said you wanted to see my London," he says, "so I'm showing its to you."

I look around for a moment. I doubt this quiet neighborhood is home to any secret London attractions. The street sign reads: Royal Hospital Rd.

"And your London has something to do with... a hospital?"

"Good try, love," he says with a smirk.

He tugs at my hand and turns toward a modern-looking brown brick building. The words 'National Army Museum' are emblazoned over the door.

"Army museum?" I ask. He gives me a smirk and pushes the front door open, escorting me inside.

The doors lead to a large, open space with a high ceiling spanning a few stories. On every wall, there are murals of old war photos and pieces of memorabilia in glass cases. Considering the amount of artillery surrounding us, this may be the most American place in all of London.

"So you used to go here?" I ask.

"No, actually," he says, clearly enjoying how much he's confusing me. "This wasn't around when I lived here."

"Do you enjoy being cryptic?"

As if he's decided to be extra mischievous, he replies with only a wink.

He scopes out the room before leading me down a hallway lined with photos. I take in the photos as we pass—young men kicking around a soccer ball, the queen's guard marching in uniform, mustachioed men holding muskets, soldiers sharing drinks from a flask. It's a warm, human side of war that I really didn't expect.

Zane squints as he scans each frame, seemingly looking for something in particular. After a moment of walking, he stops in front of a black-and-white shot of soldiers casually lounging on the ground beside their guns. They're wearing brimmed caps and structured uniforms that I'm guessing were a classic military green.

He points to the photo and looks back to me.

Then I see it.

The familiar face of one of the soldiers in the background catches my eye.

My mouth drops as I lean in to examine the photo.

"Oh my god," I say, bringing my hand to cover my mouth.

It's one thing to know that your boyfriend is 200-years-old. It's another thing to see a photo of that boyfriend in a museum.

"An old friend told me this was here," he says. "Said I should check it out next time I was in town. You said you wanted to know more about my life in London, so I thought... maybe you'd like to see it?"

"Wow, Zane. This is.... Yeah, of course I want to see it. I kind of expected you to, I dunno, take me to the restaurants you used to go to. This is next level."

"To be fair, I haven't lived here in ages. Most of the restaurants I knew back then aren't around anymore."

"This is really cool," I say, unable to tear my eyes away from the photo.

The man in this photo is so serious—stoic, sad even. His curly locks are chopped and tamed in a short military cut. He's a completely different person than the man who stands in front of me. If I wasn't so familiar with the curves and lines of his face, I wonder if I'd be able to recognize him at all.

"Were these men your friends?" I ask, pointing to others in the photo.

"These two were," he says, pointing to the soldiers standing beside him. "This one here is Immortal too."

"Was that a thing? Like... Immortal military units or something?"

"Not really, but most of us ended up in the elite units because we outperformed the humans. There were about six in ours."

Sometimes I realize there's so much about Zane and being an Immortal that I still don't understand.

"I want to learn more about Immortals... and Sirens. I want to know more about you and your life."

He wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me against his chest.

"You are my life, baby. This stuff, it's my past. But the important parts of my life didn't happen until you showed up."

"Well, I want to know all of it."

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know... you tell me. What do I need to know about Sirens?"

"I'm really the wrong person to ask about this. I spent a long time avoiding being what one might call a typical Siren. Uh... er... if you want, there is this thing..."

"What thing?"

"Alek and David are having a party this weekend. There are going to be a bunch of Sirens there, not just Alek. Kami is already planning on going but I figured we'd pass."

"Why? Don't you want to hang out with your friends?"

"I'm not exactly the most social bloke on the planet. I really just want to spend time with you, and I know parties tire you out."

"Way to make me sound like an old lady."

I scrunch my face in irritation.

Do I technically have the physical stamina of an old lady? Yes. But that's beside the point.

"Well, it may also have something to do with the fact that I don't love the idea of you surrounded by a lot of horny Sirens," he says, giving me a kiss on the forehead. "That, and I hate fancy dress."

"Fancy? Is it like, black tie?"

"Er, um, sort of..."

Why does that sound so ominous?

𝔸𝕧𝕒

Following Kami around a shopping mall should be an Olympic sport. I can only imagine the amount of ibuprofen I'm going to need to get through this day.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

When Kami said she wanted to help me shop for this party, I didn't know I was agreeing to quite so much speed-walking.

"It's just down this way," she says, sauntering forward with ease like she isn't dragging a sluggish human in her wake.

"So why are we going to a special store, anyway? Zane said it was a special kind of dress code but he's not particularly great at explaining this sort of thing."

"It's a Great Gatsby–themed party. This store has a lot of fun, beaded dresses."

"Great Gatsby? Oh... I have no idea what that's supposed to be."

She stops and turns into an incredible dress shop, each rack full of intricate, beaded dresses with a bit of vintage flair.

"Wow!" I say, my eyes scanning the racks. "There's no way I can afford anything in here."

"Zane said you'd say that, so he gave me his credit card."

I walk up to a dress and flip over the tag. The price is £340, which I'm now realizing I don't actually know the value of—but it sounds like a lot.

I open my mouth to protest, but Kami cuts me off.

"Just try some stuff on," she says. "If you really don't want to buy anything, we can go somewhere else."

I begrudgingly nod and start browsing the racks.

Everything here is beautiful, but my eyes linger on a dark green dress covered in beaded fringe that swishes as it moves. It has slinky spaghetti straps and a low-cut neckline that would undoubtedly make my boobs look excellent. It's the perfect combination of that twenties vibe with a modern twist.

"Oh wow," Kami says. "You absolutely have to try that on."

"I don't know. It's really expensive."

"You said you'd try stuff on, remember?"

"I know but... don't you think it's a little risqué? I mean... it's really short and really chesty."

"All the better," she says with a wink. "Remember, this is a Siren party."

"It's a bit much, though."

"Oh, did I mention Tara is probably going to be there?"

My ears prick up at her mention.

"What?" I ask, trying to sound cool and relaxed.

"I'm just saying, if I wanted to show a bitch up, that's the dress I'd do it in."

I want to argue with her, but my petty inner self is dancing with delight.

I would look super bangin' in this dress.

"If I'm going to do this," I say, a smile growing on my face, "then we should probably stop at a lingerie store too."