Page 79 of Soren

“Fuckinggross.” Soren held a hand to his mouth, almost wanting to retch, not sure if a vampire body was even capable of it. He was all for blood, but brain matter flying everywhere was just…nasty.

He took a minute to collect himself, keeping his eyes off the massacred body in front of him. Hendrick may have been a horrible, murderous dick, but Soren still didn’t relish the sight of his wasted body.

He sat down on the porch, as far from the mess as he could. He’d expected more…relief. But Soren could still feel rage and fear and worry swirling in his stomach. Maybe it would take some time to process his victory over his longtime tormentor.

He lost himself in thought, reflecting on everything that had brought him and Hendrick to this point. Could Soren have done anything different, to avoid this gruesome outcome?

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when he finally stirred from his seated position, but the sun was substantially higher in the sky. Soren needed to make a decision. He had options now.

He could leave Hendrick here, allow the other vampire to heal over time. Hendrick’s head was mangled, but it wasn’t completely severed from his body; hewouldheal, eventually. Soren could leave him to it and hope that this fight would be the one to teach Hendrick to stay away for good.

Soren could run again.

He laughed to himself, the sound tinged with hysteria. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to run. He didn’twantto leave. Part of Soren’s soul was still in Hyde Park. The best part of his soul. And if he was going back… Soren didn’t want to look over his shoulder for the rest of his very long existence.

And then there was the other side of things: how many others would die, if Hendrick was left to live?

So it was time to dispose of Hendrick. The world would be better off without him. Soren wondered if perhaps Hendrick hadwantedto end his own existence. If that was part of why he’d continued to pursue Soren even without the threat of his den of vampire friends to keep him safe.

Soren found he didn’t care much either way.

He lugged Hendrick’s body to the fireplace, avoiding looking too closely at his mangled head. Soren tossed him in just as unceremoniously as he had the cabin’s owner into the lake.

He watched long enough to ensure the body caught fire, then went back out to the dilapidated shed, where he was sure he’d spotted some gasoline cans. He supposed he could have saved himself some time and poured those on Hendrick first thing, catching him by surprise after disposing of the cabin’s owner, but Soren had wanted… He wasn’t sure what.

He’d wanted closure, he supposed, as stupid as that made him feel in hindsight. He’d wanted to give Hendrick a chance to do the right thing.

So much for that.

Soren was exiting the shed when he caught sight of a familiar form on the porch.

Gabe.Still in the clothes Soren had last seen him in, looking rumpled and torn and definitely the worse for wear. But his human was standing tall—both legs straight and strong—not a wound to be found on him.

Soren took that in.

Huh. His human wasn’t…humananymore.

And Soren understood suddenly, that wave of emotion he’d felt back in the cabin, confronting Hendrick. The mate bond. Soren had been feeling Gabe’s feelings on top of his own. Their rage combined. Just as he could feel Gabe’s relief now. His confusion. His love. Soren stood frozen, the can of gasoline clutched in front of him.

“I came to rescue you,” Gabe said sheepishly from his place on the porch, not making any move to get closer.

“I’m burning a body,” Soren explained, voice dull. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know how to feel.

Gabe sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Soren with hopeful eyes. “Can I help?”

twenty

Gabe

Gabehaddrivenfast—fasterthan he ever had in his life—feeling that pull toward his person guiding him, directing him. He’d been ready to fight. To rip skin and break bones. To use the new strength he could feel coursing through his veins.

And then he was there. A weird, abandoned-looking cabin with smoke coming out of the chimney. He could smell his mate even over the stench of burning flesh. And there was Soren—blood-spattered clothes, soot smudging his skin—having already fought his own battle. Not in trouble at all.

For all the urge to run toward him, Gabe found himself suddenly…nervous. Soren had just been through an ordeal. Had been recaptured by the same person who’d tortured him on and off for centuries. And Gabe had been no help at all. Had been used as bait, in fact. And was now here too late to do anything but help clean up the mess.

Soren looked at him strangely, his eyes uncharacteristically dull, holding on to what looked like a rusted gas can. “You’re unsettled,” he said, after a long silence. “I can feel it. Nervous about being bonded to a murderer?”

“What? No.” Gabe took a step forward. Paused. The new presence inside him was restless, unsure. It wanted their mate where they could feel him, touch him. But Gabe wasn’t sure Soren would want that.

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