Page 48 of Blood Bond

Leaning against the cool wall, I press a hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat race uncontrollably. My mind whirls with thoughts, each one laced with the electrifying memory of Seth's look—a look that seemed to penetrate right to my soul.

ChapterThirty-Seven

Restlessness grips me as I return Theo's plate and bowl to the kitchen, now shrouded in darkness. The stove is off, pots cleaned and stored away, and whatever Elena was concocting has vanished.

Leaning against the sink, I gaze out the window, absorbing the rare luxury of witnessing the sunrise. Outside, Killian is busy in a shed or garage, storing away the quads he and Seth used. The scene, bathed in the soft morning light, is oddly calming.

I turn on the tap, placing the plate and bowl in the sink, embracing the quiet and the faint blue hue of dawn filtering through the window.

As I lose myself in the serenity of the moment, a breeze brushes against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. Footsteps behind me break the tranquillity, my heart skipping a beat. I turn to find Seth standing there, a presence both imposing and comforting.

Our eyes meet, and time seems to pause. The air between us crackles with an unspoken intensity, drawing us inexorably closer. Seth's gaze holds a blend of longing and vulnerability that echoes my own tumultuous emotions.

Wordlessly, he steps towards me, his movements smooth and purposeful. A gentle smile touches his lips as he brushes a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch sends a current of anticipation through me, igniting every sense.

Captivated by his nearness, I barely notice as he reaches around me to pull down the blind, shielding us from the sunlight that could harm him. He steps back, creating a space between us that does nothing to dampen the rapid pounding of my heart.

I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice. "Did you find what you needed?"

"Aye," he replies simply, his gaze never leaving mine.

In the silence, the tension between us grows thicker, charged with unspoken desires. My pulse races in response to his nearness, my body aching for the connection that ignites whenever he is close.

The sensation is disconcerting. How could I feel this way about a vampire, about any of their kind? My experiences with them have only ever been marked by cruelty. So, this connection with Seth, it defies everything I know.

"Will we go to St Mary's tomorrow?" I ask, trying to shift the focus.

"It's too dangerous at night. Too many thirsty in the area. We'll need another plan," he responds, his gaze intense even in the dim light filtering from the corridor. "Tell me about what happened with Layla?"

As I meet his eyes, a whirlwind of words spins in my head, yet articulating them feels impossible. "I don't understand it myself," I admit. “It's like the girl on the stairs. I saw her final moments, her pain, what happened to her. And I saw you. You turned her. You fed her."

"That's how we turn people." He pauses to watch me and I feel so open, like a book he can read. I swallow, hard. He doesn’t seem to notice the effect on me. "Have you always had these visions?"

I shake my head. "I had nothing.” People with magic are rare. Witches, vampires, shifters exist, but those with telepathy, telekinesis ... they're on a different level. “I don't understand where this comes from."

“What do you see when you touch me?”

My heart races, sure right then that he’s going to come closer, going to close the gap. “It’s different with you.”

Seth steps towards me, his movements impossibly graceful, a predator stalking his prey. “How?” I catch a whiff of his scent, a heady mix of musk and woodsmoke that goes straight to my head. My heartbeat quickens in anticipation as our bodies brush against each other, electricity zinging through every nerve ending. His hand brushes my jawline, sending tingles down my spine. He's so close now that I can see the flecks of red in his eyes, like tiny stars caught in an endless abyss. With a sigh, he leans in and whispers against my ear, "Tell me what you see." A shiver runs down my spine at his warm breath on my neck.

I try to focus on what's different about seeing him—the way he holds himself, poised like a panther ready to pounce but also strangely vulnerable as if waiting for approval or judgement. His eyes reflect centuries of experiences, both joyful and haunting. He's seen so much more than any mortal should ever see; it's etched into every line on his face and every movement he makes. And yet there's something endearing about him too, something that makes me want to reach out and touch those lines, to smooth them away like wrinkles on an old map.

"I see your life before you were turned. I see your brother, you, Katherine."

At the mention of Katherine, Seth's face contorts with pain, his eyes fill with a mix of remorse and longing. "Katherine ..." His voice is raw, laden with emotion.

Instinctively, I reach out, placing a hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. "I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to stir up painful memories."

He searches my eyes for something elusive. "You do not understand."

The weight of my ignorance feels overwhelming, my heart pounding in response. "What don't I understand?"

He shakes his head, his eyes still locked on mine. "It is another story for another day.” He huffs out a breath. “We should rest.”

“What if you drink from me?" I ask suddenly, and the question hangs in the air, a suggestion filled with possibilities and unanswered questions. I can’t take it back now.

Seth's reaction is immediate, a subtle recoil. "I won't drink from you."

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