Page 59 of Vampire's Hearth

“No, nothing’s wrong.” I tightened my arm around her waist, letting Runa see Rory was mine to protect. “You’re my guest here, the High Priestess Heir of the Coven of the Blood. No one is going to harm you.”

Rory bit her bottom lip, trying to hide the playful smile. “All that?”

I gazed over Rory’s shoulder, sure the vampire on the beach had heard my warning. I cupped the back of Rory’s neck, bringing my lips to hers again, this time slower, deeper. There was warmth in her I could never seem to get enough of, something that called to a part of me I wasn’t ready to face. I melted into our kiss before I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

“Yes, all that,” I whispered. “Someone I never could have dreamed of being with.”

She smiled, a small, knowing curve to her lips, her walls slipping for just a second. “I feel the same way.”

I led her up the remainder of the stairs, her hand warm in mine. Would we ever speak of the fire and weight that burned in my chest? I shook the question from my head, satisfied with one certainty from our exchange: Runa had seen everything, andshe knew Rory was under my protection. Whatever twisted truce remained between her and my family would hold—for now.

I opened the anteroom door for Rory, guiding her into the cool, dark interior of the manor, away from Runa’s gaze. I threw the blanket in the corner, knowing it would be washed and returned over the next few weeks. The motion stirred up the scent of the long-drying wood around us.

“Why does this room look so much like the cottage?” Rory’s voice held a curious edge that hinted at something more—like she was piecing together the puzzle of my family’s past.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Eventually, I would have to tell her. But not right now. “When Aine had the manor built, she wanted the family entrance to remind everyone where the O’Cillian family began.”

Rory nodded, her fingers brushing lightly against the stone as if she could feel its history. Before I could say more, a commotion from upstairs broke the silence.

“Mac!” Conall’s voice rang out, strained. “Where the hell are you?”

Did he even know we were back?

“Come on,” I said, touching her arm. We ran up the heavy oak stairs, the soft blue silk carpeting muffling our steps. As we reached the morning room, Conall and Declan rushed down the steps from my parents’ rooms.

“I’m here,” I replied, already expecting the worst but unsure what the worst could be.

Declan’s entire body was tense, worse than I could recall from recent memory. His hands balled into fists at his side. Conall stormed into the room, his eyes flickering in every direction, taking in everything from the stairs to Rory and me. He exhaled sharply, his arm flying up toward Rory before falling to his side. “Well, she’s still here.”

“What does that mean?” Rory’s voice was sharp with a defensive edge.

Declan’s eyes narrowed as he focused on her. “Your cousin,” he said, his voice tight, before he clenched his jaw and shook his head. “She’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Rory folded her arms across her chest. “That doesn’t make sense.”

But it did. It hit me all at once. I turned to Rory, my stomach tying in a knot. “Rory, go see if the grimoire is still in your room.”

Her eyes widened. “She wouldn’t...”

But I could see it in her expression. She knew what she’d find. Without another word, Rory sprinted across the great hall and up the stairs to the guest floor. Moments later, her voice echoed down to us.

“She took it,” Rory called out, the rising lilt at the end of the comment hanging in the air as she gave a short, bitter laugh. “Why would she do this? Where is she even going?”

I shook my head, my chest feeling hollow. “I don’t know.” I nearly growled the words.

“How did you even figure out she left?” Rory asked, rejoining us in the morning room.

“I did,” Isla said from the doorway. She stepped into the room behind Rory, her lips drawn in a fine line. “I was outside when I saw her leave. I didn’t realize at first she was leaving, and she was gone before I could do anything.”

Rory exhaled sharply, her jaw clenching as she balled her fingers into fists. “There’s one person who might know.” She pulled out her phone, dialing quickly. It only rang once before Rory spoke again. “Amara.”

I watched her closely, my senses tuned in. “Yes, Rory?” Amara’s voice answered on the other end.

“Lyra’s disappeared. Do you know where she is?”

Amara’s tone darkened. “Well, child... I know.”

My teeth clenched. I knew what that voice meant, what Amara had planned. So did Rory—her eyes flashed with anger, but she held her composure. “You told her to take the grimoire.”

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