Overwhelming her with information just might kill her. It would be like telling a child that her existence was simply for the pleasure of the parent, that she meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.
"The numbers," Mason cleared his throat, "have been called for centuries. It used to be every year, then it went to every two years, every decade — you know the trend. The last human number called was fifty years ago." His face contorted like he was going to change shape, but he gained control over himself. "Immortals, as we've said before, cannot simply procreate. They need humans in order for the process to be complete. Basically, human men and women help immortals continue to populate the planet. If the balance is somehow… broken, then chaos erupts, thus the need for humans. The balance is very important for both our races."
"Okay." Genesis, nodded her head slowly. "So why wait fifty years?"
You could hear a pin drop in that room.
I didn't want to answer.
Mason kicked me under the table. I glowered in his direction then said as gently as I could, "Because immortals become attached to their humans in a very… possessive way. They mate for life… it's a beautiful thing, but the human always has the choice to reject their mate." Even after they've bonded, but I wasn't going to say that aloud lest she reject me. "If the mating is completed, both parties happy, babies are born into the world, and everyone lives happily ever after — that's fantastic, but recently, humans started… dying."
"That's what we generally do." Genesis's eyes narrowed. "We don't live forever."
"After giving birth to an immortal, you should. You used to." Mason explained. "It's life's final gift… immortality for your sacrifice to us. But somehow, along the way, it stopped working."
"Oh." Genesis glanced at me.
I looked away. Not wanting her to see my pain.
"And how does Cassius fit into all of this?" she asked.
"The Dark Ones don't mate. They don't bond in the way we do. When they infuse a human mate, it's too strong for the humans to handle it, but he was… or we were… for a while, experimenting with the idea. Thinking we were possibly losing our powers. He's been taking humans… to see if he can reverse it, but along the way he became…" I sighed. "…addicted."
"What?" Genesis shook her head. "To what exactly?"
"He's part angel… part human," Mason said in a low voice. "His human counterpart wants desperately to join with humanity again — but his angelic essence won't let him. He's stuck in hell. But when a Dark One infuses a human, for those blissful weeks they last, life is perfect. Cassius is convinced if he only found the right human, he could bond eternally."
"And that was me?" Genesis croaked. "Or he thought it was me?"
Because of her marking.
Because of her name.
The beginning. Her name meant the beginning. And our prophecies specifically stated that a woman's number would be called who represented a fresh start.
A new beginning.
Cassius wanted her for his own selfish reasons.
The rest of the immortals wanted her so mates would stop dying, children would no longer be motherless or fatherless.
I kept my groan inside. It was even harder for the men. The minute they bonded with an immortal woman their original chemical makeup ceased to exist, relying solely on their immortal wives for nutrients, their organs simply started shutting down only days after the bond was complete.
I wanted to believe my own reasons weren't selfish.
But with each breath she took, each beat of her heart, I realized I was more selfish than Cassius, because, as of right now, I wouldn't give her up — even if it meant war. Even if it meant the end of my own people — my existence.
For being as old as I was, retraining myself wasn't going to be easy. Keeping emotional barriers between us would be necessary because my body screamed for her.
Genesis
Words didn't have power, right? They were just words, strung together in sentences, big scary sentences that had me shaking. I wondered when or if the fear would ever leave.
I stared at the fruit on the table, not in the least bit hungry.
"I can't just…" I found my voice and glanced up at Ethan. "I can't just sit around trapped in this house away from the world. It would be like prison."
"A beautiful prison." Ethan smiled.
I chose not to smile back. I didn't want to encourage him or encourage my body to lean any closer to his. His body was like a magnet, even if I fought against the pull — I still couldn't help it. I found myself inching my chair closer. When it scraped against the floor, everyone smirked but Ethan.
He seemed angry.
Angry, yet he'd been the one to do that to me.