Page 54 of Blood Bond

My eyes find Seth. With him, the visions are different, deeper. With others, it's merely glimpses. “I don’t know,” I admit, the uncertainty gnawing at me. “Maybe it’s only different with Seth. I’ve never actually seen the exact moment he was turned, only pieces of his life leading up to it.”

“Would you try again?” Elena urges gently.

Nodding, I approach the vampire, this time alone, without Killian's or her touch. I'm ready to delve deeper, to look through this small window into her last memory.

The moment my skin makes contact, I'm yanked back into her world. It’s like with Layla, a golden thread of light, stretching from her heart to mine. I glance down at my own form, seeing the light connecting to my heart, pulsating in sync with my own heartbeat.

I trace the ethereal thread with my gaze, then my hands. It feels like the softest feathers, light and delicate. As I touch it fully, then pull. A burst of light radiates from my hands, coursing through my body. Then, a resounding pop echoes through my mind, as if it had occurred outside my own head.

I jolt back, losing my footing, and this time, Seth is the only thing keeping me from falling. His arms envelop me, his presence a reassuring comfort.

The vampire in the chair slumps, her arms dangling limply, head lolling back. A wave of despair washes over me as I bring my hand to my mouth, the realisation hitting me like a physical blow.

“Oh no,” I whisper, my voice choking with horror. “I killed her.”

ChapterForty-One

Donovan looms over the book, its presence now a constant torment in his life. Ever since he learnt of its existence, the book with its thick, red cover – seemingly crafted from some peculiar skin – has fascinated and frustrated him in equal measure. The cover feels unnaturally warm to his touch as he flips it open, only to be met with blank pages. Yet, he senses the magic within it, a life force pulsating just out of reach.

Marcus lounges on the sofa, his latest victim sprawled across his lap. The casual way he laps at the blood oozing from her throat creates a macabre backdrop to Donovan's concentration. The rhythmic sucking sound punctuates the silence, grating on Donovan's nerves.

Exasperated, Donovan snaps, "For God's sake, can't you feed quietly?"

Marcus pauses, lifting his head, his chin and lips glistening with the woman's blood. "You insist we stay awake, then I must feed."

"We all stay awake until this puzzle is solved," Donovan retorts, his patience wearing thin.

"And you're the one bleeding all over the place," Marcus counters with a sneer.

Donovan touches his nose, the back of his hand coming away with blood. He hastily wipes it away with a small cloth. Amelia has fed, Marcus is feeding, but Donovan resists. The blood sates their thirst temporarily, but like him, they too will succumb to the sun's deadly rays if they don't feed properly. Yet, Donovan's focus remains unwavering - he needs to unlock this book and its secrets for himself and for Payton.

Marcus, pushing his dazed victim aside, inquires, "What do you think will happen when you finally crack open that book?"

Donovan leans heavily on the table, lost in thought. "If the effects of the small taste of blood I had from her are anything to go by, then opening this book could give us control over everything."

In his mind, Donovan amends, 'I control everything', but he keeps this thought to himself. Marcus and Amelia, though powerful and more capable than most of their kind, are mere pawns in his grand plan. Marcus, especially, is driven by base desires, whereas Amelia at least possesses some intelligence.

Marcus's voice breaks his reverie, "What about her father?"

Donovan frowns, irritation creasing his brow. "What about her father?"

"He's her blood, right? Her biological father, as they call it. That means he shares at least fifty percent of her blood. You need blood to open that book, right?" Marcus questions, piecing together the puzzle.

Donovan considers this. He's deduced that the well on the inside cover is the key – a magical lock, typical of a grimoire, sealed by a witch to be opened only by the witch herself or a descendant. A grin curls his lips as he recalls the night he slaughtered Katherine's mother, her blood sweet and rich. Yet, Payton's blood was even more exquisite, the crème de la crème.

"But he is her father, not her mother. Witches are female," Donovan points out, dismissing the idea.

Marcus rises, his latest victim sliding lifelessly to the floor. Her eyes are glazed over, blood seeping from the unsealed wound. She'll be dead within minutes.

"You're speaking in riddles again, Marcus," Amelia adds, moving to attend to the dying girl. She feels the urge herself, the sun's deadly rays outside calling to her, demanding a sip of blood to stave off death.

"No," Marcus persists. "Payton's father shares her blood. Use his to open the book, or to find her, to communicate with her." Because that is what vampires do. They need to have tasted the blood to be able to communicate. Powerful vampires can do it without, but it’s draining, but for a better connection … blood is always the answer.

Donovan had tried reaching out to Payton, but she was a void now, unreachable. "I need witch's blood."

"And he might have it. Have you even tried?" Marcus counters.

Donovan narrows his eyes, the frustration evident. "It won't work."

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