Page 19 of Blood Bond

The muscles in my throat tighten, and I press a hand to my mouth, as if holding back the words can somehow alter the tragic end of her life. I fix my gaze on her lifeless form before me, struggling to reconcile the image in my head with the reality laid out before me. My eyes lift to meet Seth’s intense scrutiny.

“He waited for her and then took her life,” Seth states, his voice tinged with a mix of understanding and sorrow.

“Yes,” I whisper, the word scraping like shards of glass through my throat. “He killed her, turned her into one of the thirsty, robbed her of her life, her family, her future.” My voice wavers, and the sting of unshed tears threatens to spill over. I mourn for her, for the son who lost his mother, for a family left to grieve. I don’t know how, but I feel their loss deep within me, an ache that resonates with every fibre of my being. “This is what the virus does, what vampirism does. It robs you of everything.”

I force a breath through the tightness in my chest, trying to steady myself amidst the chaos.

“You see the moment they die?” Seth's question echoes in my ears. I frown at him, not out of confusion but from the effort of making sense of everything happening around us.

“I have only seen death twice—” I pause, meeting his eyes again. I want to tell him about seeing his life, about how different it is with him, but I hesitate.

Naneve interrupts, thankfully redirecting Seth's focus. “What is she?” She’s addressing me, her tone tinged with both curiosity and suspicion. “Something's going on here, right? She sees their deaths, and the thirsty are drawn to her. We opened the door on the floor below, and not a single one paid us any mind. They looked at us, yes, but normally they would have charged. They would have been all teeth and claws, determined to get to us. Not one of them came for any of us. Not even you.”

“Because you are not a threat,” I say, my voice quiet but certain. Somehow, I know this to be true. My mind feels like it has opened, unlocked something I can’t yet fathom.

Naneve's gaze intensifies, probing, as if trying to uncover the truth beneath my words. She's attempting to understand me, but the reality is I don’t even understand myself. Guilt wells up in my chest, and I feel the urge to apologise, though I'm not sure for what.

Killian, usually silent, cleans his blade and sits on a step, his watchful eyes on me. His presence feels protective and curious, causing me to shift my gaze away, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

Sensing my discomfort, Killian stands. “What’s next on the agenda, Sire? We need to leave this place.” His words seem to relieve Seth too.

Seth holds my gaze for a moment longer, an intensity in his eyes that feels almost tangible. I can trace every line of his face, the stubble on his jaw. My throat tightens as I wait for his response, expecting him to probe further as Naneve did.

But then he breaks our gaze and stands. “The library. After that, there’s nothing left in this place for us.”

“But this is Skin Trade,” Naneve says, a hint of sorrow in her voice.

“Bricks and mortar, a mere backdrop for my business dealings,” Seth responds, his gaze sweeping the aftermath around us. I wonder if he’s looking at the lifeless bodies or seeing beyond the walls. “We’ll proceed to Shadow Holme and I’ll contact Lucius. I trust he's taken all those not present here to safety.”

ChapterThirteen

Perched on a grand chair in the centre of the room, Donovan exudes an air of regal authority. The chair, resembling a throne, is strategically placed to allow him a commanding view over those brought before him. The only missing symbol of his power is a crown, one that metaphorically adorns his brother's head.

As he stares out the window, rolling a silver coin deftly across his knuckles, his gaze is sharp and penetrating. If looks could travel distances, Seth would be dead – a mistake Donovan regrets not rectifying long ago.

He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly. Dwelling on past misjudgments serves no purpose now, after centuries of rivalry.

The door swings open, causing the vampire guard to step aside quickly. The guard catches the door with grace, bowing as Amelia saunters in, a blood-stained cloth pressed to her nose.

"Is that all you're going to do? Just sit there?" she challenges, stopping short of fully entering the room. The blinds are open, allowing sunlight to filter in, enough to make her hesitant to advance further.

When Donovan remains silent, Amelia raises an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip. "Hello? Are you asleep?"

Slowly rotating the chair with his foot to face her, Donovan speaks, "Is the boy still alive?"

"Yes, he's still alive. Why else would I am bleeding like this?" she retorts, gesturing with the bloodied cloth. Donovan smirks, seemingly amused by her discomfort. "If you expect me to stay awake during daylight, I need something more substantial."

Vampires are bound by the ancient rule to sleep during the day. Seth, Donovan, and even Amelia are no exceptions. Ignoring this rule leads to bleeding from their noses, eyes, ears, and eventually, internal haemorrhaging. But Donovan has noticed a curious change since biting Payton – he doesn't bleed, nor does he feel the same pull of the dawn.

"Do you ever tire of complaining?" he asks dryly.

"I'm not complaining. I just need something else," Amelia insists.

"Did the boy give you anything?"

Though she is still made, her smile turns wicked, her eyes gleaming darkly. "No, but I believe he's close to confessing anything we want.” She snorts. “He has no idea where your precious Payton is."

Donovan sighs, his disappointment evident. "That's a shame."

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