Page 84 of Vampire's Hearth

Evangeline pulled my head to her shoulder. “It’s the path she felt she needed to take.”

Lyra’s sobs echoed through the night, gut-wrenching and raw, but I struggled to hear her over the pounding in my head.

“Why wouldn’t she drink?” I asked, my voice shaking with disbelief. Why would she choose death when the blood was right there?

Evangeline sighed as I lifted my head to find her gaze. Her eyes filled with quiet understanding. “I think she knew even before the spell.”

“Knew?” I stared at her, unable to grasp the enormity of it. “She knew?”

Evangeline nodded, her voice low. “Rory, this is who she was. I wouldn’t doubt that she knew this was her fate the moment she walked into the clearing tonight.”

A cold chill swept over me at Evangeline’s words. The finality of it struck me like a sharp, painful blow. Amara had known. She had chosen this. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

In the distance, the faint wail of sirens cut through the night.

“We need to clear the area,” I said, forcing myself to focus. “Remove anything that looks like a ritual.”

Evangeline nodded, her gaze soft but steady. “I’ll see to it, High Priestess.” The title dealt yet another punch to the gut—so foreign and heavy. I flinched inwardly; the burden settled over me like a shroud.

Evangeline trotted to the center of the clearing, joined by Willow, as they gathered everything from the spell. I watched as Evangeline slid the knife used to cut Mac into her belt with caution, her eyes meeting mine in a silent question. I gave her a slight nod, allowing her to take it back to the house when it was safe. For now, everything was stuffed into the barn.

The sirens grew louder—closer. And as I stood there, watching my coven clean up the remnants of what had just happened, the reality settled in.

This would be the last time Aunt Amara left the plantation.

Cormac

My scream echoed around me as the silver dagger left my heart, and I returned to consciousness. With the blade gone, my mind returned at once, but it would take my body some time to heal. My breaths came in short, hard gasps. Each beat of my heart sent a searing pulse through my body, a fiery reminder of the damage wrought. The pain as the muscle repaired brought tears to my eyes. But at least it hadn’t been wood. But that meant whoever took me wanted me alive.

There was no way of knowing how many days, months, or even years I had lain unconscious. My stomach twisted into a knot. Was Aurora even still alive? Or had whoever taken me killed her? I needed to find out, and fast. I didn’t recognize the vampire standing above me, but he was young. His face was pale andthin, as though he were malnourished, and the tendons of his hands stood out like white cords as he gripped the dagger hilt.

Why had vampires attacked the coven in the middle of a spell? Whoever had sent them was either very reckless or very confident. My healing heart clenched, hopeful my speculation was mistaken. Only one vampire would ever be that confident—that uncaring about sending others into a deadly fight. My blood ran cold. And if Rory was still alive, she was in more danger than ever.

The vampire sheathed the silver dagger and stalked from the room, the door closing with a soft click behind him. I gritted my teeth together and, through the pain, pulled myself up to sitting. My eyes flitted around the room. The high ceilings captured the muggy heat that seeped in through the large leaded glass windows. Dust motes swirled in the faint shafts of sunlight that seeped in around the closed plantation shutters, their lazy dance a stark contrast to the tension rising in my chest.

In the corner of the muted gray room,my room, stood a fireplace, its mantel of decorative Italian marble reflecting a time from long ago. A crystal glass filled with a dark crimson liquid sat on the mantel as the only decor. My phone, sitting next to me on the nightstand, gave off a faint light, the charging cable snaking into the wall. I turned it on and breathed a sigh of relief that only days had passed. But in those days, there was not a single call from Rory. Was she hurt? I had to get back to Oak Leaf Hallow, back to her.

I swung my legs off the side of the four-poster bed and tested my balance on them. The pain in my chest receded, which only made the pain in my head more evident. I couldn’t be sure if that pain was from a lack of blood or the remnants of Amara’s magic. Amara. Had Amara lived? If she hadn’t…Rory.

I walked to the fireplace and steadied myself against the mantel before taking the glass. I brought it to my nose,inhaling the air across the top. Detecting nothing amiss with the fragrance of the fresh blood, I sipped, each drop crossing my tongue causing a cautious exploration. It had a slight metallic taste to it, heightened by the fact it was somewhat cool. But my entire body tingled as the life-giving force rolled down my throat.

I strolled to the armoire and opened it, curious if hospitality remained the primary rule of the house. As I expected, the latest black Italian suits in my size hung inside, and beside them, the finest of silk shirts. I shook my head and selected my clothing with a clenched jaw. It wouldn’t do to go out looking like I did right now. That he was following my mother’s rule told me everything I needed to know. He wanted his family beside him. That would never happen, even if I didn’t need to get back to Rory.

Dressed, I made my way down the central staircase, following the sounds of dinner that floated toward me from the dining room. The last time I had been here was just before we returned to Ireland in the late 1870s. I wanted to be happy to be in this home again, nostalgic of the time when Declan entered our family, but nothing could shake the tightness in my chest that constricted my breathing.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the front door.What would stop me from just walking out?I knew that answer, as well as I knew I would not die today. I needed to see my captor as much as he wanted me at his side. Turning left, I walked the few steps to the double pocket doors and threw them into their resting place in the walls.

The dining room opened in front of me. The brilliant blue walls hadn’t changed, broken up with white wainscotting and enormous leaded glass windows. The tightly closed white plantation shutters blocked out all the light here as well. Not everyone in this house was a day walker. To the left, Frenchdoors opened to the veranda at the rear of the house and the gardens, whatever remained of them. The covered porch kept the sun at bay.

The chandelier, replaced over time, threw a brilliant electric light across the long oak table. Humans dressed to the nines stood by the walls, compelled. The women’s dresses left little to the imagination. I didn’t have to ask why they stood there, but still, my stomach twisted, repulsed, as a young blond vampire snapped his fingers at a redhead who walked toward him without a care in the world, throwing her hair back and baring her neck in preparation.

“Brother, how lovely of you to join us. We saved you a seat.” The confidence of the words was forced, and the joyfulness grated on my soul. He needed me alive. I was still his brother, still part of the legacy he so desperately clung to. My eyes turned toward him, sitting in Father’s seat at the head of the table. Of course he would be. Anger rose in my chest at the indignation of what had become of our Charleston home. The sight of him, smug and sprawling in Father’s place, ignited a fire of resentment that I struggled to restrain.

Aiden’s smile on his round face was so angelic I wanted to slap it from him and ask what he thought he was doing. But he would not care one bit if I did. I pulled my shoulders back, striding through the dining room to the empty seat on his right, smelling the stench of wolf as I did.

Declan, sitting to Aiden’s left, kept his gaze locked on the table. A wise move. I knew this was how it would be. As far as Aiden was aware, I hadn’t spoken to either of them since he ran from Dún Na Farraige in 1925 without a word.

“Well, brother, if you wanted to see me, you could have just invited me to dinner,” I said as I sat at the table. I relaxed back in the chair and straightened my jacket, feigning nonchalance, though every muscle in my body tensed.

---