Page 35 of Feathers From the Sky

The organ stalls and I can’t breathe.

“This can’t be real,” I murmur, and I pinch myself—hard. “I have to be dreaming.”

He laughs, a smirk pulling up his lips as he takes his eyes off the road to look at me.

“I’m not your dream, Gwyn. I’m your damnation.”

12

ROMAN

The city ison the horizon, the twinkling of lights just visible on this stretch of I-90. Since I’d made it clear to Gwyn I intended to kill her after she helped solve my mystery with Remy, I’d had to make her sleep. Understandably hysterical, rest had been a gift. She’d opened the wound in her neck during her fit, and now I’m having to hold back my thirst.

It’s not the first time on this drive I wish I listened to my uncle. Even though he parted ways with us in Cleveland, I can still hear his reprimand. I am nothing but a chaotic tangle of energy now, and he wasn’t wrong when he blamed her blood.

Wasn’t wrong about my father being unpredictable in his reaction. I’m tempted to call him—to explain before I get there so I can make adjustments to my plan if necessary. But I know he will summon me despite any changes I make, a sharp tug on his noose around my neck. I regret making my blood vow to him every day, but it rubs me raw even more now than it did before. He doesn’t care like I do about what happened to Remy, and he’s made that abundantly clear.

Regardless of my father’s reaction, I am glad to return to the coven. No matter that she was defenseless and ignorant, I’m the one to finally bring in the last vampire hunter. We’ve had many vampires fail to return since I was a boy, and I am the one to bring an end to this endless hidden enemy. Perhaps it will encourage Björn to Slumber sooner rather than later, knowing between me and Emile, the coven will be well-cared for. Knowing what the coven protects will be cared for as well.

Gwyn twitches in her sleep, her head leaning against the glass. The blood on her neck has finally slowed, but it’s still seeping from the wound. I hadn’t bothered healing it like I did her hand, and I’m paying for that decision now. She’ll be fine, her heartbeat strong and steady, and I don’t think it’s a fatal wound. But it’s intoxicating as I breathe in her scent.

Eyeing her hand in her lap, I notice it is crimson, her attempt at staunching the flow useful in little more than dirtying herself. It’s with the speed of my gifts and the self-control of a fledgeling vampire that I grasp her hand and bring it to my lips. She adjusts in her seat, putting less pressure on her shoulder, as I clean the blood from her skin.

It’s a dangerous game I play here, teetering on a knife’s edge of obsession, but her blood is too precious to ignore. I’m not too proud to admit I can’t stand the idea of wasting any of it, even if that means I’m sucking on her fingers while she sleeps.

Fuck.

Part of this might be because of the added threat that she will not belong only to me when I return to the compound. Though I claimed her with my bite, those I’m blood sworn to can do as they please with her. If Björn chooses to share her with the coven, there’s little I can do.

Even though I’m bringing back the hunter, fully planning to kill her for the coven, my father will be annoyed I didn’t do it the way he asked. He might use my claim on her against me. A hunter’s blood shared amongst the coven is one of the greatest gifts he could conceive, winning their admiration with little effort. And if my father does nothing with her, I’m not so sure Victoria will leave her alone. Lording my oath over me is her favorite thing to do now she is with my father, and she won’t have any issue drinking from her in front of me.

She’ll probably do it naked just to taunt me.

Gwyn makes a sound, a gentle mewling in her sleep, and I throw her hand back into her lap.

The small amount I’d cleaned from her hands was enough to give me focus, and I need to ensure my plan of attack will see me as the victor.

“Hello?” Margot answers on the first ring, and I remind myself to pay her more. Though she wants for nothing, I know she’s been saving up to move out of the compound.

“Does he know?” I ask.

“That you’re bringing her here? Yes. Emile told him hours ago.”

“Of course he did. And his reaction?”

“Well, he said little, but he’s having Freddie check the wards downstairs.”

I swear, not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. At the very least, he wouldn’t prepare a cell for her if he planned to kill her.

“Roman?” I can picture her chewing her lower lip, gnawing at the hot pink lipstick she prefers. “Can I ask you something?”

“You’re going to anyway,” I say as Gwyn sighs, and her head lolls in her sleep.

“What the hell are you doing bringing her here?” Margot asks. “I don’t put it past him to tear her to shreds. Or worse—let the fledglings have her.”

“I need her help to make sense of some of this shit,” I murmur. “I can’t tell what’s worthwhile or not. He wrote her a letter in some language I don’t fucking know.”

Margot makes a noise, and I don’t bother to interpret it. She’s going to tell me, anyway.

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