Page 39 of Blood Bond

The feel of his lips against mine lingers like a faint whisper. My heart tightens as I watch him leave and listen to his footsteps fade away.

"Katherine," I whisper her name. The sound of it on his lips does something to me, and I don’t know what.

Seth and Katherine. A woman with whom I could never compete.

ChapterThirty

Iopt for the solitude of my room, leaving his behind. The dying embers in the hearth still provide a muted warmth, their dim glow creating a cosy atmosphere. The curtains are wide open, showcasing a star-filled sky and trees coated in sparkling frost. The scene outside reminds me of childhood walks on similar frosty grounds, the crunching sound underfoot bringing a sense of nostalgia.

The world now endures erratic weather patterns, with blistering days swiftly turning into freezing nights, a testament to the environmental damage caused by human activities. Such unpredictability has become the norm.

There's a belief, I don’t know where from, that vampires emerged as a necessity for our survival, their transformation into immortality being a means to endure. This idea seems plausible, considering our enhanced strength.

Others claim that vampires were created by witches.

I open a previously unexplored door in my room. To my surprise, it's a shared bathroom with two entrances, one from my room and the other from Seth's, reminiscent of the bathroom in Skin Trade. I wonder if this arrangement is intentional on his part or just a coincidence.

The bathroom itself is spacious, dominated by a claw-footed bathtub at its heart. My feelings are ambivalent; it's grand and spectacular, but it's also a place of pain in my mind. Not this particular bath, but the ones the vampires used in their attempts to cleanse our bodies of the virus that claimed so many lives.

I push those thoughts aside and take a refreshing shower. The water is hot and steaming, just as I had hoped. The soap is delicately scented and gentle on my skin and I let my thoughts drift to Seth and the way he kissed me.

He kissed me …

Once I'm clean, dry, and dressed, I stand in front of the mirror. The glass is misted with condensation, and I wipe it with my hand. As I study my reflection, I struggle to recognise myself. I lean in close, bracing my hands on the counter, and stare at my long blonde hair framing my face. It seems thinner than I remember, and my eyes appear darker.

During my time at Crevan's, mirrors were a necessity. We had to apply makeup, style our hair, and present ourselves as attractive commodities for the vampires' parties and gatherings. Nobody wants a miserable and dull-looking "meal," so we were compelled to dress up, apply makeup, and smell appealing, though perfume on our skin was unnecessary—vampires had no use for it when biting into our necks, thighs, and other preferred areas.

Exiting the bathroom and my room, I retrace Theo's path that led me here when he showed me to the bedroom. I hope I'm heading in the right direction. The place is grand, with wood-lined corridors adorned with paintings, furniture, sofas, tables, and chairs. There are sculptures, statues, and intricate wall lights.

Eventually, I reach the staircase we ascended. At the time, I was so exhausted and confused that I didn't fully absorb my surroundings. Now, I carefully descend the stairs, my hand sliding along the thick bannister. At the bottom, I hear voices growing louder, confirming I'm on the right path.

I cross the hallway to a large, thick wooden door and gently push it open. It's the kitchen, and it feels like the central hub of the house. The layout reminds me of Seth's shack in my dreams, with similar wooden panels, an old table, antiques, and numerous books on the shelves.

Several faces turn to look at me as I enter the room, but it is only one that most surprises me to see.

Layla.

She is sitting at the table. Her brightly coloured hair now appears dull and is pulled back from her face. She no longer exudes the vibrant vigour she once did, resembling a discarded and forgotten plaything left aside for many years.

Naneve is also seated at the table, eating porridge from a bowl. She takes a bite of the apple she is holding as her eyes lock onto me. Theo stands over the stove, focused on the pan in which he is cooking more porridge. Killian and Seth are not back yet.

"Come, sit," Theo says, gesturing towards a vacant seat opposite Naneve as he places a steaming bowl on the table for me. He carries the pan over and ladles its contents into my bowl. "If you're extra hungry, we've got fresh fruit—bananas, apples, and some strawberries. They're out of season, so they're not the best, but still good. And we have nuts and seeds, too, if you'd like," he adds, placing a spoon beside the bowl.

"Thank you," I say, my senses awakening to the hot, sweet aroma of the food. I reach for a banana, my usual apprehension under Naneve's sharp gaze momentarily forgotten. Ordinarily, I'd be shrinking under her scrutinising stare, trying to interpret what I've always perceived as her unkind, critical thoughts about me. Her disdain has never been a secret. But today, my focus drifts towards Layla over the chair that separates us.

Layla sits motionless, save for her eyes, which track my every move with an unsettling intensity. Her hands lie on the table, but her fingers move slowly, almost hypnotically, as she lightly scratches a pattern on the wooden surface.

I can't help but ask, "Are you okay?"

Layla's gaze lifts to mine, her head stiff. Her eyes, once filled with gentleness, now burn red with bright, unsettling edges. The warmth that once resided there has vanished, replaced by a fierce, unnerving hunger. I shift in my seat, uncomfortably aware of her predatory stare—it's like standing near the thirsty, feeling their hunger as a palpable force.

Her right hand presses deeper into the wooden table, splintering the surface under her relentless fingers. Theo, having ceased cooking, joins me in watching her with growing concern. We all seem to be holding our breath in unison.

"Layla ...." Theo's voice is a soft murmur.

"Is she okay now?" I ask, my mind racing back to the last time I saw her, far from this frightening state. Her gaze, once glassy, is now clear but menacing.

Her upper lip twitches, revealing elongated fangs—a sign of a vampire's true nature. Seth can conceal his, so Layla's display is a deliberate act of aggression.

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