The Savage Grace: A Dark Divine Novel (34 page)

A WEEK AND A HALF LATER

I hadn’t heard anything again from Talbot since the text, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d try to do something else to get our attention. In the meantime, I had enough on my plate to keep me busy—making arrangements to rebuild on the farm property, move the entire the pack and their belongings across several states, and, of course, there was
school.
Both Daniel and I had a lot of missing assignments to make up for if we wanted to graduate on time.

I had quite a bit on my mind, but I still couldn’t believe that I’d completely forgotten about my trip to the Print & Ship two weeks ago. That is, until I passed Mr. Barlow at the Day’s Market on Saturday afternoon. He came up to me as I waited for Stacey to ring up my groceries—enough sandwich fixings and potato chips to feed a pack of thirty men and my lost boys, with the appetites of wolves, who’d been framing out a house all afternoon. Barlow raised his eyebrows at my shopping cart’s contents, but he didn’t ask about it. Instead, he pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his knapsack. “It’s nothing
official,
of course,” he said—and winked at me. “But I thought he’d like to know right away.”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

It was still hard to walk past the place where Jude had died, but I knew I’d eventually get used to it. The framing of the new house—the first of the buildings Daniel had planned for our new property—was going up quickly. We were trying to beat out the first snow of the season that the weatherman was predicting would hit Rose Crest by Thanksgiving. I dropped off the lunch fixings with Zach—who’d figured out he had quite the talent for cooking under my mom’s tutelage—and made my way to the barn, where I knew I’d find Daniel poring over his design plans for the house. He’d taken to it so quickly, it made me wonder if Trenton had an architectural emphasis in their industrial design program.

Daniel dropped his pencil when he saw me, his whole face lighting up. I smiled back, hoping the day would never come when he’d stop looking at me like that. I asked him to come with me, and we walked hand in hand until we came to the old tree we’d discovered in one of the back acres of the property—a walnut tree, even older and larger than the one in my family’s front yard. I’d already started thinking of it as “our tree.”

“I have something for you,” I said, and handed him the letter from Barlow.

Daniel took the paper and read it out loud.

“Dear Jack—

“Just wanted to let you know that we on the admissions board are very impressed with the two applicants from your school—Daniel Kalbi, especially. Although his essays were a bit rough, I must say that his portfolio blew us all away. We haven’t seen this level of talent, and an obvious passion for industrial design, in a freshman applicant before. While we won’t be sending official acceptances until after the new year, I’d think it is safe to say the Amelia Trenton Art Institute will be happy to welcome Mr. Kalbi into our program.…”

Daniel’s voice trailed off, and he looked at me. Shock and confusion filled his eyes. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I never turned in my application. With everything that happened … I hadn’t even had time to think about it. I haven’t even mentioned it because I thought it was pointless now.…”

“I turned it in for you. Back when you were still stuck as a wolf. I wanted to make sure you had a decent future to come back to … and then I completely forgot that I’d done it.”

“You did this for me?” He pulled me into a bear hug. “But what about you?” he asked. “I’m sure you’re the other applicant the letter was talking about. I bet you’ll get in, too.…”

“No.” I shook my head. “I only had time to do one application, so I chose yours. I guess I thought maybe I might find time for mine later … but you know, with everything…” I shrugged.

“You sacrificed Trenton so I could have it?” He looked down at the letter. “But that’s not right. Maybe we can write to this admissions guy, get him to take a late application.”

I shook my head again. “It’s okay. Really. I know now that Trenton isn’t for me. I think I only wanted it because you wanted it so bad. I could never bring myself to even start filling out the application once I read that one essay question. The one that asked how I was going to use my talents to make the world a better place? That made me realize that I have a different calling in life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love art, I really do, and it’s obviously going to be a part of my life forever. But I don’t live and breathe design the way you do. I don’t see myself being able to use it to make the world a better place like you can. But I can’t stop thinking about all the hurt and sick people out there. Wondering how I can help them. I think that’s what I want to do with my life, after school. Use my healing talents to help people. Maybe I’ll have to become a social worker or a nurse.…” I almost laughed, thinking about how my mother had always wanted me to consider becoming a nurse like her and how I’d
hated
that idea. “That way I can choose people to help on a case-by-case basis. Get to know them personally so I can heal them.”

“And not become a crime-fighting superhero?” Daniel flashed me one of his almost devious-looking smiles. “You have a talent for that, too, you know.”

I smirked. “Who says I can’t do both? Heal people by day, fight demons by night?”

“
And
help run an entire pack of reformed werewolves. Sounds like you’ll be busy.”

“We’ll both be busy. You with Trenton and all.”

Daniel tapped the letter against his hand. “Is this dumb?” he asked. “With everything that’s happened? With all the responsibilities we have now, should I really even still be
thinking
about Trenton?”

I felt both his hope and his pain at the same time.

“Trenton is only a few hours away. We’ll find a way to make it work. You can still be an alpha and have the normal life you always wanted, too—well, as normal as any of this is
ever
going to get. But we have each other for help. You can be a leader and an artist, just like I can be a demon fighter and a healer.”

Daniel nodded. He slowly folded up the letter and slipped it into his jacket pocket. When he pulled his hand out again, he held something else in his closed fist. “I have something for you, too. I was going to wait, but I don’t think I can anymore,” he said. “But first you need to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to close your eyes.” He nodded at me to do so.

I dropped my eyelids. “Okay, now what?”

“I want you to try as hard as you can to forget when I proposed to you in Caleb’s dungeon.”

“What? Why on earth would I do that?”

I opened my eyes, ready to protest his request face-to-face, but I found Daniel kneeling on one knee under the branches of the walnut tree.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to forget when I proposed to you before. I want you to stop thinking I did it only because I thought we were going to die—and wondering if I think you said yes only to make me happy in that moment.” He tapped the side of his forehead. “I’ve felt those worries inside of you.”

“Daniel, I…”

He held out his hand, with something small clasped in his fingers that glinted in the afternoon sun. A ring. White gold with a large round diamond in the center and a smaller purple stone on either side that reminded me of the color of my eyes.

“I want you to forget all that, because I want this to be the moment you remember. The moment we
both
can remember.” He cleared his throat. “Grace Divine,
now
that
all this crap is over, and when we’re out of school, and you take some time off from kicking bad-guy butt,
and
healing hapless strangers,” he said, embellishing the words I’d told him he’d used the first time he proposed, “will you marry me?”

I clasped my hand to my face, as if trying hold back the tears that suddenly sprang up in my eyes. “Isn’t that just kind of a given?”

“I’d still like to hear it, so I can burn it into my amnesia-riddled brain.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll marry you.” I put my hand on my hip. “
After
Trenton.”

Daniel laughed. The next thing I knew, he’d engulfed me in his arms—his lips melting against mine, my fingers curling in his hair, and my body aching with so much anticipation. For us. For our future.

For the unknown.

I am told space is limited for acknowledgments because I wrote such a freaking long book, so while I’d love to gush on and on about all the people I owe my extreme gratitude and adoration to for helping this book even exist, I will attempt to be brief with my appreciativeness. (Though, obviously, brevity is not one of my strong points. Heh. Heh.)

First and foremost, the two people who deserve the most thanks for their extreme patience, long plotting sessions, dishing out plenty of encouragement, and knowing just the right moment to tell me to stop freaking out and get back to work—are my husband, Brick Despain, and my editor, Greg Ferguson.

Ack! Look at that, I’m already losing briefness…

Okay. Take a deep breath, Bree. Focus. Stop elaborating and just get to the point.

Ready?

Alright.

Additional love, gratitude, and (too quick) thank you, thank you, thank yous also go out to the following: Ted Malawer and Michael Stearns from Upstart Crow Literary. The other awesome people from Egmont USA: Doug Pocock, Elizabeth Law, Mary Albi, Regina Griffin, Nico Medina, Bonnie Cutler, Robert Guzman, Alison Weiss, and Katie Halata. Joel Tippie at JDrift Designs. Jose Torralba for your always-gorgeous cover photography. My parents, Nancy and Tai, my siblings, in-laws, nieces, nephews, and other extended family members, neighbors, and friends who continue to offer ongoing support and enthusiasm. The SIX: Brodi Ashton, Emily Wing Smith, Valynne Maetani Nagamatsu, Kimberly Webb Reid, and Sara Bolton. My two little boys who try to be patient when mommy is working. And a special shout-out to our dear friends Michelle and Brent Sallay—Brent, you finally made it into one of my books. I hope you’re happy, man.

Whew.

I did it! I did it! I managed to thank everyone without running out of roo