Текст книги "The Ashes & the Star-Cursed King"

Автор книги: Carissa Broadbent

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 37 страниц)

“Raihn,” she choked out, like she was hurtling through oblivion and desperate for someone to anchor her.

I knew that, because I felt it, too.

I know, I wanted to say. But my own orgasm stole the words, my cock buried deep inside her, muscles seizing. She was shaking, whimpering, as her body tensed through wave after wave of aftershock.

I held her, and filled her, nestling my face into the space between her throat and shoulder as we both relinquished ourselves.

For a few incredible seconds, everything disappeared in a hazy, soft mist of her.

When the world returned, it all felt... different.

I’d had plenty of sex before. Some bad, some good, much of it ill-advised. But this didn’t feel like sex. It felt like a religious ritual—like finding faith.

Oraya had collapsed against me. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me—and with it, a fresh awareness of the pain of my wounds, which I’d strained something fierce in all the activity. Not that I could bring myself to be too broken up about it.

Her breath was deep and hard. My hand fell to her back, rubbing softly.

Finally, she sat up. She licked my throat with a little flick, cleaning off the rest of the blood. I tipped her head back and did the same, relishing the final tastes of her. The shift of her hips with the movement reminded me that I was still inside her. Another kiss, another minute, and I could’ve had her again.

But that blood-and-sex-drunk weariness had settled over me, and I could tell Oraya was fighting it, too.

I fell back onto the bed, turning on my side and gently guiding her down to the blankets as I slipped from her.

She curled up on her side and I folded around her, our bodies fitting easily together.

Already, I sensed her heartbeat slowing, her breath calming.

Already, my own eyelashes were fluttering.

I kissed her shoulder, her cheek, settled down in a nest of her hair. Her scent surrounded me. Oraya had always smelled so damned alive—not the scent of incense or withered flowers like so many vampires, but the scent of spring.

I felt the overwhelming urge to say something to her, even though I wasn’t sure what that would be. But Oraya’s hand fell over mine, and that touch somehow seemed to mean more than all the words put together.

Maybe for the best, because sleep took me so fast, they slipped through my fingers like sand, anyway.

46

ORAYA

I awoke to soft kisses over my cheek, my ear, my neck.

These last months, waking up always felt like a battle, as if I was being dragged back to the land of the living kicking and screaming.

This was not a battle. This was a gentle summons, sweet and tender.

I felt, for the first time in so long, safe.

Safe, for the first time since...

Since... the last time I had woken up like this. In Raihn’s arms.

It took several seconds for my awareness to come back to me. I was naked, in bed, in Raihn’s arms. I was sore from the battle I’d fought to save his life and then from the fucking we’d done when I refused to leave him.

His kisses trailed to my throat, a tiny stab of pain as they brushed the wounds where I’d let him drink from me.

Mother, I still tasted the tang of his blood on my own tongue.

Every piece of this seemed more outlandish than the last. A month ago—hell, weeks ago—I would have been appalled with myself.

Instead, I felt... strangely at peace.

I opened my eyes and rolled over. Raihn propped himself up on one elbow, watching me. A familiar little smirk clung to his lips.

“Evening, princess.”

Funny, how intimate those two words sounded. Maybe it was just the way his voice sounded rolling over them, seductive and warm and just a little bit shy.

I murmured, “Hello.”

What else was I going to say?

The smirk softened. “Hello,” he whispered.

My gaze trailed down his bare body, taking in the expanse of muscles and scarred skin—pausing, for just a moment, at his cock, partially hardened—before returning to the crisscross of wounds over his abdomen and sides. I questioned my sanity as I took them in. They seemed so much better than yesterday, when Raihn had barely been able to move.

Following my gaze, he said, “The blood helped. A lot.” His lips brushed over my forehead. “Thank you.”

I squirmed a little at the way he said that. So sincerely.

“Of course,” I muttered. Like it was what I’d planned all along. If I’d been thinking logically, it did make sense to let Raihn drink from me—I’d seen before how much it helped him heal, and he’d needed that desperately.

But I couldn’t even lie to myself. I hadn’t offered my blood to him out of a sense of practicality. I’d offered it to him out of blind, maddening desire—desire to have more of him inside me, and more of myself inside him.

And Goddess, it had been—it had been—

I cleared my throat to avoid getting lost in that particular cascade of distracting thoughts.

I twitched as his fingertips traced my abdomen, tickling over my belly button.

“Looks like it helped you, too,” he said.

I blinked down at myself, brow furrowed. The cuts were still there, yes, and still sore, but they no longer bled. They looked as if they’d been healing for several weeks, not for twelve hours. It rivaled the effects of a healing potion.

“Is that… normal?” I asked.

“Not sure if anything about either of us is normal,” he said.

Well. That was true.

“Heir blood, if I had to guess,” he went on. “Maybe combined with your half-human lineage. I don’t know. But I’m not about to question it.”

His touch ran over one of the shallower wounds, tracing a lightning-crack scar of pink flesh. For the briefest moment, his face darkened, before settling again as he turned back to me.

“Oraya,” he said softly, “I—”

I wasn’t prepared for this. For his heartfelt words. I had no regrets about last night, but I couldn’t open myself up for him again today. Touch was one thing. But words... words were complicated.

“We need to go back to the castle,” I said.

I was brisk and businesslike. Just as I had once been with him when we strategized together in the Kejari.

Raihn’s mouth closed. Understanding fell over his face quickly. He was a half-step behind me, but he slipped into the same role just as easily.

“I know,” he said.

That was it. No questions, no hesitation. Anyone might have laughed in my face for even saying it, but I felt a twinge of satisfaction that he had already been thinking the same thing.

Maybe it was a death sentence to go back there. Anyone else would have advised that we flee Sivrinaj, and not come back unless we had an army to bring with us.

I knew what Vincent would have said:

Don’t feed yourself to the wolves, little serpent. Know when your bite isn’t strong enough.

But of course Raihn already accepted it as simple truth that we needed to go back, and immediately. Because his inner circle was still in that castle—Mische was still in that castle. He would not leave her there, especially not in Simon’s clutches.

I wouldn’t, either. It was never even an option.

I knew, even without him saying anything, that Raihn was thinking about Mische, because I could see the pained expression fall over his face—one part fury, one part agony.

My hand fell to his arm, firm and comforting.

“We’ll get her out,” I said. “And in the meantime, you know she’s putting up a hell of a fight.”

A faint hint of a smile, which immediately dimmed.

“That,” he said, “is what I’m afraid of.”

Raihn hated Simon, but I’d come to realize he was also afraid of him. Genuinely afraid, the way I had been afraid my entire life. I wondered if my fear seemed as outlandish to Raihn as his fear did to me. As undeserving of his time.

My fingers tightened around his arm. “You are better than him,” I said, more viciously than I’d intended. “Fuck him. We are going to destroy him, Bloodborn army or no.”

So easily, that we rolled off my lips.

The corner of Raihn’s mouth twitched. “There she is.”

He sat up, face hardening into an expression I’d seen many times before—the same look that would come over him during one of the Kejari’s trials. A kind of bloodthirsty focus, like he’d been presented with a very entertaining puzzle.

“So, princess,” he said, “that leaves us to figure out how to get back into the castle we just barely escaped alive. Now that we’ve established that we’re fucking insane.”

Two of us. A castle full of Rishan and Bloodborn soldiers. Most of whom were probably frantically looking for us. Septimus, presumably, still would want me for my blood. Simon needed to kill Raihn, and quickly, if he wanted to get his own Heir Mark. The nobles would support him due to his history alone—if out of nothing more than distaste for Raihn—but that goodwill would only last so long if Simon never managed to get a Mark of his own.

“Bad odds,” I said. But I found myself suppressing a smile.

“Oh, you look dismayed,” he said wryly.

I shrugged. “Reminds me of old times. It’s been a while since I’ve been underestimated.”

“We know just how much you love that. Going up against impossible odds.”

Despite myself, I smiled. “You loved it too.”

“I’ll admit it.”

He flopped back on the bed, hands behind his head. “So. If I remember right, this is the part where we come up with some kind of brilliant, twisted plan.”

It was indeed. And my mind was blank.

I fell next to him, staring up at the crooked wooden planks above us. A spider swung from beam to beam, crafting a silver-silken web. It was a chaotic thing, near-invisible threads strung messily into the shadows, functional but far from beautiful. Like fate itself, I supposed.

For a few long moments, we thought.

“So what do we have?” Raihn said.

Then, to start answering his own question, he said, “We have us.”

“A human and a usurped king,” I said, flatly.

“No. Two Heirs who won the Mother-damned Kejari.”

Fair point. Raihn and I had individually managed to fight through incredibly unbalanced battles in the Kejari, and done even more together. What’s more, our power had grown exponentially since receiving our Heir Marks. Sure, mine was still difficult to control, but I’d used it to kill Goddess-knew how many soldiers to save Raihn.

Somehow it had seemed… easier then, lost in a frenzy for blood.

All my life, Vincent had admonished my emotional impulsivity, teaching me that stoicism and focus were the only paths to mastering my magic. Yet I’d never felt more powerful than I did in those moments, totally out of control of myself.

I couldn’t let myself think about that too much now. How easily Raihn being in danger had unlocked something primal in me.

Mische in danger, I hoped, might unlock the same viciousness.

The corner of Raihn’s mouth quirked, albeit with a humorless edge that I suspected foreshadowed his own viciousness.

“Honored you have such faith in us, princess,” he said. “And after all this time.”

He got out of bed and crossed the room. I eyed his backside—I couldn’t help it—as he leaned over the bureau and rummaged through it. When he turned around, something sharp and glittering glinted in his hands, nestled in silk.

I recognized it before he returned to the bed. My brows leapt.

Vincent’s mirror.

“You have it,” I breathed.

“I got it out of the castle as soon as I could. You think I was about to let Septimus keep it? Or leave it lying around where you could find it and bring another round of Hiaj soldiers to my doorstep?”

I was almost offended. Almost. It was a totally reasonable concern.

Either way, I was wildly grateful.

I traced the edge of the shard with my fingertips, watching a little sliver of my reflection.

“So this gives us Jesmine,” I said.

Raihn gave me a sidelong glance. “You trust her?”

A valid question to ask, in the wake of a coup. Raihn couldn’t trust his own nobles. And hell, I couldn’t trust many of mine, either—but for better or for worse, Jesmine had been nothing if not loyal. She never had to follow the orders of her king’s human daughter, who she’d never even liked much anyway. And yet, she had, without hesitation. That counted for something.

“I do,” I said.

But whatever Hiaj forces I might have were far away from Sivrinaj, now. And we didn’t have time to raise an army before we moved.

I looked across the room, to the pile of my belongings that had been strewn over the floor yesterday. I slid from the bed and stood. I was endlessly aware of Raihn’s stare running over my naked body. There was a strange kind of satisfaction in that, I had to admit. Strange kind of pleasure, too.

I rummaged around in the pile of bloody silk and pulled out the Taker of Hearts.

Even sheathed, I could feel its magic burrowing under my skin. Not long ago, that had been uncomfortable, almost painful, like my flesh was too weak for it. Now? I could sense power in that discomfort—heady and a little disorienting, like vampire wine.

I could feel, too, my father’s presence in it. Like he was standing right over my shoulder, silently critiquing my grip.

“And we have this,” I said.

A weapon that Vincent had used to kill hundreds—thousands, even—of incredible warriors over the years. A weapon powerful enough to defend a throne for two hundred years.

A weapon powerful enough to destroy one of the last true great Rishan cities.

My stomach turned at that thought. I lifted my gaze to meet Raihn’s. No more joking in it now. Not even desire. No, he was utterly serious, mouth set. I wondered if he was thinking about the same thing I was—the ashes of Salinae, and the role this weapon may have played in making them.

“Nothing to scoff at,” he said quietly.

The pride I’d once felt in being able to wield this weapon soured slightly.

No. Nothing to scoff at. I’d taken down dozens of Simon’s men with this thing—and that had been alone. With Raihn beside me? Hell, we could almost fight our way through that castle by ourselves.

Almost.

As if reading my mind, Raihn said, “If we were taking them by surprise, we might be able to do it by brute force. But not tonight, when we’re the most wanted people in the House of Night.”

I settled back at the edge of the bed. Raihn and I were silent, thinking.

He was right. Brute strength wouldn’t work. But I hadn’t won the Kejari by being the strongest, anyway. I’d won because I had spent my whole life learning how to survive in Obitraes despite what I was or wasn’t. Learning tricks that could get me farther with less.

Tricks like…

My lips curled slowly.

Even before I looked up, I could hear the smile in Raihn’s voice. “I think I recognize that face.”

I said, “We have one more thing. We have me.”

47

ORAYA

Vincent had taught me how to stay alive. That meant learning how to fight, yes, but it also meant learning how to flee.

My father had created a castle perfect for a man who knew, one day, his greatest threats could come from within his own house. The tunnels were extensive, confusing, and disjointed. Septimus was aware of some of them—my own foolishness had seen to that. But he couldn’t know all of them, let alone guard them.

The hard part would be making it there.

I was certain that Vincent had created multiple avenues into and out of the castle. Unfortunately, he hadn’t trusted me with any of them—in hindsight, it made sense that he didn’t want to give me ways to sneak away from him. Still, he’d given me instructions on one way out. One way that was so unpleasant, he could feel confident that I wouldn’t use it unless my life was in imminent danger.

Much had been written over the years about the Lituro River. Visitors had spun plenty of poetry about the way it wound through the dunes like a streak of silver paint beneath the moonlight. Some claimed it represented the lifeblood of Nyaxia herself.

I imagined that maybe, out there in the desert, it was indeed a thing of majestic beauty.

However, in the heart of Sivrinaj, it was as much piss as it was water.

Sewage had to go somewhere. In the city, most figured it was easiest for it to go right into the river. Hell, many people decided to skip the washroom altogether and put it there directly.

Many, many, many people.

I was certain of this as the water—if it could be called that—swallowed me up.

I couldn’t hear much underwater, but I certainly could make out Raihn’s appalled, garbled curse as the piss water surrounded us.

I forced my eyes open and then immediately regretted it. I couldn’t see anything under there, anyway.

Our heads broke the surface at the same time. Raihn shook his hair out like a dog, sending spatters of rancid liquid over my face.

I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh. Watch it.”

“What? Is that too much piss for you?” He pointedly looked around. “Not sure that’s the problem, princess.”

I flicked a handful of water at him. Despite his attempted dodge, it caught him squarely in the cheek, which I appreciated. He scowled, but didn’t protest, like he knew that he deserved it.

I lifted my chin to motion down the river—where the back of the castle stood, looming over us in shadow. We’d picked a secluded area of the river, bordering the human districts, to jump in without being seen, but the activity up ahead was visible even from this distance—a smattering of torches and Nightfire, and the thrum of distant voices. Even the castle was unusually well-lit, the windows pulsing firelight that revealed hints of distant silhouettes within.

It reminded me of the way this city had looked the night of the Kejari’s finale—the night Raihn had taken over.

“I won’t be able to see underwater,” I said. “It’s straight ahead. Then to the left once we get closer to the castle. One of the grates leads inside and connects to the tunnels. Stay close to me.”

“One of the grates?” he repeated. I understood his point—the castle was enormous, and had a dozen sewage grates on its western side alone.

I was so young when Vincent had showed me this, and it had been from the inside out, not outside in. I didn’t remember exactly which one. Luck would, hopefully, be on our side.

I winced. “I’ll... have to try a few.”

He laughed softly. “It’s not fun if it’s too easy.”

That was one way of looking at it.

“Ready?” he said.

I glanced down at the rancid muck.

No. No I was not.

I was glad that Raihn had packed a few different sets of leathers for my grand escape. I’d have to burn these.

But aloud I just said, “Absolutely.”

Together, we ducked beneath the water.

I wasn’t the best swimmer. Raihn was fast, but he had to keep stopping to let me catch up to him. Worse, I couldn’t see anything—even in the few seconds I could force my eyes open at a time, I saw nothing but cloudy darkness. Raihn and I stole silent gulps of air at the longest intervals possible, especially as we approached the castle. Guards were everywhere, both Rishan and Bloodborn, though they appeared to be wildly disorganized. Most rushed around yelling at each other rather than standing watch.

They were, we pieced together, trying to find Raihn, and they were certain they’d do so out in the city as he attempted to flee—not at their doorstep as he came crawling back to the castle.

Fair assumption. This was not what most rational people would do. Let alone by swimming through sludge.

And it was, indeed, sludge by the time we made it to the castle, the liquid too thick to be called “water,” sticking to my skin and hair every time we rose to take a precious gulp of air. The smell was so putrid that even those seconds above the surface weren’t such a treat anymore, no matter whether I breathed through my nose or mouth. I could taste it.

At one point, I caught Raihn eyeing me, a pursed smile at his lips, like he was trying very hard not to laugh. I scowled at him, and he shook his head. Even silent, though, I could hear the words: That fucking face.

I had to be grateful for the sewage, though—at least it disguised our scents, especially mine. Even when we swam mere feet away from soldiers on the streets above, we passed undetected.

When we finally reached the turn where the river met the castle’s aqueducts, I thanked the Goddess under my breath. We had to fight a surprisingly strong current to make it up to the castle, since the channels had been constructed at a slight downward angle to ensure the constant outward flow of waste. Clinging to the side, allowing the stone wall to shield me, I poked my head above the water to examine the grates ahead.

I could not even remotely remember which one led into the tunnels.

I dove again, throwing myself against the first set of iron bars. Raihn swam beside me, helping me pull at the metal.

Not the first. Nor the second. When we rose for another quick breath, the voices of the soldiers were even closer.

Fuck. The longer we stayed in one place, the greater our risk of being seen. I didn’t know how much longer we had here before someone would wander too close.

Please, Vincent, this had better be the one.

We slipped under the water and threw ourselves against the next set of bars.

And maybe the Goddess or my dead father were looking out for us, after all, because this one ground into movement immediately.

The door was awkward, designed to be pushed out from the inside instead of entered from the outside. Raihn held it open for me to wiggle through, and I did the same for him as he squeezed between the metal rods. No easy feat against this current, stronger than ever this close to the castle sewers.

Inside, Raihn had to grab my arm and use his body mass to keep me from getting swept away. By the time the tunnel started to rise, we were practically dragging ourselves along the slime-slicked walls. My muscles screamed. My lungs burned, desperate for air. I clutched the strap over my chest, suddenly very afraid that the current would sweep the Taker of Hearts off my back.

When the floor finally rose and we could stand, I choked out, “Thank the Mother.”

“That,” Raihn muttered, “was fucking vile.”

He wiped sludge from his face as I leapt out of the water and dragged myself up a steep step at the side of the tunnel. The air was hot and stagnant, and it absolutely reeked of shit.

It was still a Goddess-damned perfumery compared to where we’d just come from.

Raihn followed me, the two of us now standing on a raised pathway along the edge of the sewer. It was very dark in here. I conjured a little ball of Nightfire in my palm, and blue light bathed Raihn’s face.

I snickered.

“What?” he said.

Here he was. The Nightborn King. Drenched, wearing ill-fitting, cheap leathers, face completely covered in shit save for the domino mask of “clean” skin he’d wiped around his eyes.

He read my face and sighed. “Because you look so fucking fantastic, princess. Ix’s tits. Let’s get going. Where’s this tunnel?”

Right.

That was a good question. I shuffled along the wall, hand pressed to the brick—rough, old, slimy. More or less how one would expect stone that had been marinating in centuries worth of wet excrement to feel.

“It was around here somewhere,” I muttered, feeling around the bricks. “Under one of these arches—”

My fingertips snagged on something. At first, I thought it was just a crack in the bricks, but a second pass and a closer look with the Nightfire revealed otherwise—no, it was an outline.

“Here,” I said.

“I’ve got it.” Raihn threw his weight against the door. He strained against it for a few seconds, face contorted, before giving up and leaning against the wall. “You’re sure this opens in this direction?”

Fuck. I certainly hoped it did. Otherwise, we were screwed.

Vincent was so thorough. I couldn’t imagine that he would go through the trouble of creating such an elaborate path out unless he also planned to use it as an emergency path back in, too, if he needed it.

But… only if he needed it.

“He’d have made sure that only he could use it,” I said. “Maybe I…”

On a hunch, I grabbed my blade from my hip and swiped the tip over my palm, opening a delicate river of red. Then I pressed the bleeding wound to the door, cringing slightly at the sting of the slimy surface against the cut.

My first thought was, I am definitely going to get an infection from this.

My second was, This isn’t going to work.

But those words barely had crossed my mind before the door opened before us with a growl of grinding stone, revealing a narrow, dark tunnel lit with Nightflame lanterns.

That was... quick. And easier than I had thought it would be. Easier than using my blood to operate Vincent’s magic ever had been before.

I stared down at my bloody palm. I could feel Raihn’s gaze on me—making the same observation, no doubt.

“Looks like the door wasn’t just for him,” he said.

I swallowed thickly.

Did you really think, Vincent whispered in the back of my mind, that I wouldn’t account for you, too, my little serpent?

I flinched. Once, I’d craved his voice so fiercely. Now, it brought with it a wave of complicated emotions.

It didn’t make sense. He’d hidden these paths from me, along with my magic, my blood, and my past. And yet—he had loved me enough, too, to offer me this safety precaution alongside his own.

So did he trust me, or not? Or did even he not know?

“I don’t know,” I said curtly. “Maybe it’s just recognizing his blood in me. Let’s go. It’s this way.”

I drew my father’s sword from my back, trying and failing to ignore the overwhelming wave of his presence that hit me the moment my hand closed around the hilt, and started walking before Raihn could say anything else.

Not that he tried.

The tunnels were poorly maintained, narrow, and winding, a side effect of them being kept in absolute secrecy—they’d been built around the existing infrastructure of the castle by an extremely limited team of workers, and then never maintained afterward because Vincent did not want to risk a single soul knowing about them. After a hundred years or so, they were starting to show their wear. Even though Raihn and I were already under the castle, it took a good long while of walking before the tunnels began to look a bit more like the hallways I’d grown more familiar with.

Soon, we scaled sets of crooked stairs, leading us up into the building itself. Muffled, harried voices echoed through the walls—all of them frantic, even if we couldn’t make out the words.

“Sounds like they’re having a wonderful time,” Raihn muttered, as the unintelligible voices of warriors yelling at each other faded away behind us.

“Not sure that you’re in a good position to go judging someone else’s coup,” I said, “seeing how yours has gone so damned well so far.”

He laughed softly. “Fair point.”

We reached the top of this set of stairs, the tunnel now splitting off into two directions. I kept my voice low, conscious of how thin the walls could be in some parts of this ancient building.

“We’re behind the second-floor library right now.” I pointed to the left path. “That one’s yours. It will take you to the dungeons. Just go down, and to the right.”

Raihn eyed the other path. “And that’s yours?”

I nodded. It would take me up to the upper floors of the castle—up to my rooms.

My rooms, where I had hidden Vincent’s pendant.

Only I knew the convoluted path up to the top level of the castle. Only I could carry Vincent’s blood-bound artifacts. So that meant I had to be the one to go up to get it—because, of course, we couldn’t leave that in Simon or Septimus’s possession. We may not know what it was, but we knew it was too important to lose.

Which meant that Raihn would need to go to the dungeons to rescue Mische by himself, at least temporarily, until I could join him.

We’d talked this through at length. We couldn’t both go to both places, which would attract attention too quickly. Our only chance at achieving both goals was splitting up, albeit temporarily.

Still, now that our paths diverged, I couldn’t help but hesitate—my eyes lingering on Raihn’s body, where I knew his leathers hid evidence of still-healing wounds.

Despite myself, I was starting to doubt that this was a good idea.

“Are you sure you can do this?” I said.

His brow twitched. “Are you worried about me?”

“I’m being practical.”

“I’ll be just fine. I can handle a few of Simon’s guards. I’m the Nightborn King, remember?”

“I remember having to save your ass from ‘a few of Simon’s guards’ about thirty-six hours ago.”

His smirk faltered, like this was a legitimate sore spot for him. Raihn may try to play the unflappable king, but I knew he really, really didn’t like to lose. “That wasn’t a fair fight,” he said. “They drugged me. And surprised me. I look forward to the rematch.”

I was unconvinced.

“Besides,” he said, “if it all goes poorly, I just need to stay alive for a few minutes until you can come save me all over again, and I’ll even let you gloat about it all you damn well please.”

It was a little appealing. A little. Still, I couldn’t shake the knot of unease in my stomach.

Maybe Raihn felt some of what I did, too, as he gazed over my shoulder to the right path, stairs disappearing into shadow.

“Be quick,” he said. “In and out. Simon doesn’t deserve the honor of killing you.”

I scoffed, like this prospect was ridiculous. My bravado, though, was a little less convincing than Raihn’s. Yes, I’d killed dozens when rescuing Raihn. Yes, I’d won the Kejari. But I still had a lifetime’s worth of fear of vampires ground into me. A hard thing to leave behind.

“Stop wasting time,” I whispered, and started to turn away, but he caught my arm.

When I looked back at him, there was no more teasing in his face. No false confidence. His hand reached out to brush the angle of my chin, so briefly I didn’t even have time to react to the touch.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured. “Alright?”

I held that stare for a moment longer than I meant to.

“You too,” I said. “Be careful.”

And with that, we each slipped into our own shadows.