Page 35 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

Too late.NGL we’ve already broken about 15 traffic laws.

Sebastián

NGL? But wonderful. I do so enjoy dealing with the police paperwork.

The sarcasm practically dripped through the screen. Before I could reply, another message popped up:

Stay safe. And Flynn? Next time Rory takes you to see a dead body? Please message me first so I can murder him myself.

Heat crept up my neck. Right. Of course he’d heard about that too.

My mind drifted back to that cold, clinical room, to those frost-like patterns that had spread across her chest like a poisoned spider’s web. A map of my future, laid out in crystalline lines across someone else’s skin. The image of my own body, grey and hollow on that metal slab, threatened to drag me under again.

Then I remembered the fierce grit in Sebastián’s eyes when he’d promised to help me, the way his jaw had set with unwavering resolve. A thread of warmth unfurled beneath my ribs at the memory, chasing away the lingering chill.

I could picture him now, probably sitting at some fancy, organised desk he had, straightening his tie with those precise fingers as he fired off these messages. Something magnetic pulled me back towards Killigrew Street Hotel. Back to that steady gaze, that resolute promise. Because whatever this curse was trying to do to me, surely Sebastián’s determination burned hotter than any demon’s ice.

8

Sebastián

Iscrolled through the barrage of messages I’d sent Flynn. The screen’s blue light cast shadows across my desk, matching my darkening mood.

Maxwell’s call still rang in my ears—his clipped tone describing how Rory had waltzed into the morgue with Flynn in tow. That audacious little wolf. I’d explicitly told him to keep Flynn away from anything he shouldn’t see or hear. A corpse definitely qualified.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. Then nothing. The conversation was obviously closed.

So why was I still staring at the screen like I was desperate for one more sentence?

I shoved the phone into my coat pocket. I needed to focus on actual work, not obsess over Flynn. He was with Rory. Despite his many, many faults, Rory wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Kit was waiting for me by the bookcase, ready to accompany me to the family of the woman in Maxwell’s morgue.

“Did you see my message about the bus?” Kit asked, adjusting his denim jacket.

I grunted, grabbing my umbrella from its stand. “It will beat an hour’s walk in the sun.”

The sun blazed through the hotel’s grimy windows, mocking my existence. Even in autumn, its rays still burned my sensitive skin. Not enough to kill me, but enough to make me wish I could throttle whatever cosmic force decided vampires should be allergic to sunlight.

At least my coat didn’t draw strange looks in October. The same couldn’t be said for the umbrella on this cloudless day, but I’d learned to ignore the stares.

The bus journey stretched into an endless parade of stopping and starting, packed with an overwhelming number of people. I’d witnessed countless innovations in human transport, yet somehow we’d ended up here—still cramming ourselves into mobile metal boxes like sardines.

“Your delightful brother has been up to mischief this morning.”

Kit scoffed. “So I heard. He left me a ten-minute voice message ranting about his favourite detective. Accidentally slipped in that he’d brought Flynn in to see the body. He’s a prat. Sorry, boss.”

“Don’t apologise for him.”

When Rory had followed Kit to London, Kit had warned me against giving him a place at Killigrew Street. He was too young, too impulsive. But I could also see that look in his eye—the worried brother look. The worried brother who would secretly be relieved at having Rory under his nose each day.

A few years later, Rory was less young, but no less impulsive.

The bus jolted to another stop. A wave of perfume from a new passenger made my nose twitch.

“One day he’ll learn that actions have consequences,” I said.

“And I can only hope I’m there to see it.” Kit’s laugh was tinged with warmth. “I’ll take a picture for our wall.”

---