Page 149 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

Yet… something in his broken sobs called to me. Perhaps it was the echo of our shared blood, or a fragment of the loving sister I’d once been. I reached down, my fingers hovering over his trembling shoulder.

The moment I touched him, memories crashed through me—not my own, but his.

Padre Rodrigo’s study materialised. The priest’s hand rested on my brother’s shoulder as he whispered poison in his ear. “God has chosen you, Sebastián. These heretics threaten His divine order.” Day after day, year after year, feeding him lies wrapped in scripture until my brother’s very soul belonged to him.

Then that terrible night. Sebastián on his knees before Rodrigo, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Father. She’s my sister. There must be another way—” The crack of Rodrigo’s hand across his cheek echoed through the chamber. “You dare question God’s will? Your sister consorts with demons.”

The day of my execution. Sebastián locked in his chambers, screaming himself hoarse as they dragged me away. He’d tried to break down the door, bloodying his fists against the wood. “Magdalena!¡Perdóname, hermana!”

Later that same night. Rodrigo offering him wine laced with laudanum. “Drink, my darling. Ease your pain.” My brother’s sluggish confusion as Rodrigo’s fangs sank into his throat. The horror in his eyes as Rodrigo forced his own blood past Sebastián’s lips.

The hunger that followed was monstrous. In those early days of his transformation, he’d curl into himself, racked with bloodlust and grief. My name was a constant prayer on his lips: “Magdalena, forgive me.Lo siento, hermana mía.”

Five centuries of carrying my ghost. Every ten years, reading his journals, torturing himself with the memory of my death. Visiting Spain, standing where the pyre had been, leaving white roses in the ashes.

All this time, I’d thought him my betrayer. But we’d both been betrayed.

My brother had carried such pain, for so long. Until…

As my gazeslid to the dead man in his arms, another wave of memories barraged me—not his anguish this time, but his joy.

Flynn Carter, that very first night. The way his face had lit up at the music, swaying with such abandon. Sebastián had watched from the shadows, transfixed by those graceful movements, seeing something pure and untamed that called to his own trapped soul.

The moment Flynn had looked up at him, terror melting into trust as Sebastián promised to keep him safe.Keep him safe like he was never able to keep me. And Flynn had believed him completely, without question. Like a gift freely given.

Flynn in the kitchen with another. Shy, awkward. Making him laugh, drawing him out of his shell. Sebastián’s heart had swelled watching them, seeing Flynn’s gentle persistence.

His laughter—god, his laughter. Like summer rain after drought, fresh and clean and healing. The sound had washed away decades of my brother’s carefully constructed barriers.

Those ridiculous red-chequered pyjamas he wore. Sebastián’s fingers itched to touch the soft flannel, to pull Flynn close and breathe in the scent of home that clung to the fabric.

Flynn had done what I was unable to—helped Sebastián face the darkness of his past. Held his hand as they read those damning diaries together. Showed him that even the deepest wounds could heal with enough care and patience.

And their kisses… Those love-soaked kisses. Each one saturated with such tenderness it made my heart ache. The way Flynn would cradle Sebastián’s face between his palms… How my brother’s eyes would flutter closed, centuries of loneliness dissolving in that tender press of lips.

I stared at Flynn’s lifeless form—this bright, beautiful boy who’d made Sebastián whole again. Reminded him the world isn’t all shadow and darkness and monsters.

Now dead.

“I thought…” Ipeered down at my hands, where purple light still danced beneath my skin. “I thought I was choosing power. Freedom. But I’m just another instrument of torture.”

A presence stirred in the shadows—vast, ancient, and terrible.Shehad arrived.

Vale stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with desperate calculation. “My lady,” he said, voice honey-smooth. “Think carefully. We can find another way. The boy’s death need not be in vain—we could harness his power, break your bondsandkeep your gifts.”

“Sweet child.” Lilith’s voice poured like ice water down my spine. Her presence manifested as a towering shadow, beautiful and terrible. “Have you forgotten all I gave you? The strength to survive when others would have burned you to ash? The power to make those who wronged you suffer?”

My hands trembled. “You gave me nothing. Youusedme, just as Rodrigo used my brother.”

“I saved you.” Lilith’s form rippled closer, her touch like frost against my cheek. “When your own flesh and blood condemned you, I alone showed mercy. And now you would throw away centuries of preparation? For what? A brother who betrayed you and his mortal pet?”

Vale circled closer. “The Mother speaks truth. Think of what we could accomplish together, Magdalena. No more serving—we could rule. The power you’ve gathered, combined with what’s left in the boy’s corpse…”

At this, Sebastián’s head snapped up, his grief momentarily eclipsed by rage. His eyes blazed crimson in the darkness, fangs bared in a feral snarl.

“Touch him and I will tear you apart,” he growled, his voice barely human. He clutched Flynn’s body tighter against his chest, protective even now. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

Lilith’s presence seemed to expand at his defiance, the shadows around us growing denser, colder. The air crackled with ancient power as my brother and the Mother of Demons regarded each other—predator facing predator across the centuries.

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