Page 71 of Vampire's Hearth

“Strange timing, don’t you think? You show up, and then a body turns up?” Conall’s tone was thoughtful now.

“I agree. I’ll see what I can find, but I’m sticking close to Oak Leaf Hallow for now.”

Conall’s voice brightened. “Are you sticking close to the plantation or its owner?”

I could hear the smirk in his voice and shook my head. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I hung up, cutting off his laughter, and headed back toward the house.

I walked down the wooded path, my thoughts consumed with Aurora. Why was my heart so consumed with her? In nine hundred years, I had never considered taking a mate, never staying with a woman for over a year or two in case they discovered my secret, yet here I was completely exposed to her and wanting more.

My breath caught as I reached the edge of the trees. Silhouetted against the light, Aurora leaned on the gallery rail. She wore a black tank dress, the skirt falling loosely to her knees, her feet bare. She wore only two necklaces now, her pendulum and the silver lynx, which fell between her breasts. A slight breeze caught her hair, the flutter of it allowing her scent of roses and oranges to mix with the musk of our sex and waft over me. I leaned against a tree, taking in the visage, a small smile on my face, my heart fluttering. She gripped the railing, a heavy sighescaping her slightly parted lips. Why was she perplexed? There would only be one way to find out.

As I walked through the back door, Lyra sat on one of the antique settees, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like she had been waiting for me, her posture tense, eyes narrowed.

“Lyra,” I greeted, forcing a smile as I glanced her way. “Always a pleasure.”

Her lips curled into something resembling a sneer. “Don’t say that. We both know you’re lying.”

My jaw clenched as I sighed, taking a step closer. “Does Aurora know you’re home?”

She cocked her head, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Does she know? Yes. Does she care? Well, that’s the real question, isn’t it?”

I bristled, my posture stiffening. “Of course she cares. She wants what is best for everyone, including the coven.”

Lyra’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “Does she? Or is that just what you’re telling yourself?”

I glanced toward the stairs, wondering if Rory could sense me in the house. “I’m not here to argue with you, Lyra.”

She stood, moving toward me, each slow step reverberating around the room. “Then what are you here for, Mac? Certainly not to help. If you were, Rory wouldn’t be learning details about your kind from an anthropologist, would she?”

My chest constricted as the air escaped my lungs, but I kept my voice steady, tilting my chin and crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m here because Rory needs me.”

Lyra let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Aurora needs you?” She stepped even closer, eyes locked on mine. “Yet, I have the grimoire.”

My patience was wearing thin. I took half a step back, opening my stance and glancing around while twirling my wrist to indicate her ongoing charade. “To what end is this game, Lyra?”

Her eyes glinted with a dangerous edge. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

Before I could respond, a woman entered the hallway from the parlor. The soft fabric of her dress swished as she moved with the quiet elegance of someone accustomed to power. Her dark hair was gathered at the crown of her head, a few strands escaping to soften the sharp angles of her face. The air around her seemed to still. She was a blend of both Aurora and Lyra—calm, composed, but with a hint of steel in the way she carried herself. Her eyes, a deep, knowing blue, flicked between us, assessing the tension. When she finally spoke, her voice was low—cool and clear. “Enough of this.” She wasn’t here to take sides. She was here to restore order.

I nodded toward her. “You must be Amara.”

“I am,” she said, returning the gesture, her dark hair swaying slightly as she moved.

“Mac, is that you?” Aurora’s voice echoed down the staircase, a softness that loosened the muscles of my jaw.

“Yes, I’m here,” I called back, fighting to keep my expression neutral. The air felt easier to breathe.

Aurora appeared at the top of the stairs, a serene vision. Her eyes flicked from Lyra to Amara, then back to me. The faintest curve touched her lips—not quite a smile, but enough to suggest she was already in control of what would follow.

“Amara, you’re home,” she said, though her voice was tight—cautious. Rory’s shoulders pulled back as she stood taller, her approach down the steps calm and precise, an elegant authority swirling about her, more pronounced than I had ever seen it before.

“Yes, child,” Amara replied, stepping closer. “I haven’t had the chance to come up and see you yet. I apologize for that.”

Aurora’s eyes narrowed, her arms crossing over her chest. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t be surprised to see the two of you together.” Her gaze fell on Lyra.

Lyra snorted softly, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, Rory. You always love to make everything dramatic.”

Amara shot Lyra a warning glance before turning back to Aurora. “Aurora, someday you’ll understand why I had to bring the grimoire home.”

---