Page 6 of Ophelia's Vampire

“Come,” I say, gesturing to the door leading into the building. “I’ll escort you back downstairs and—”

“That’s not necessary. Goodbye, Casimir.”

Without waiting for me to reply, Ophelia turns on her heel and retreats.

Something small and pathetic in me aches to see her go, but it only lasts as long as it takes to remind myself exactly what she saw when she looked at me, what she’d have used me for.

A bloodbond. A tying of life to life, soul to soul. The sharing of a long vampiric existence with a human.

I’ve never been tempted to search for a bloodbound partner to call my own, never even considered it in all my centuries. The idea of tethering myself to another for eternity has never held much appeal for me.

Far below, the lights of Boston glimmer. Streetlights and headlights, so many windows lit up bright against the night.

I knew the world before such marvels of modern invention, back in a time of candlelight and horse-drawn carriages, back in a time when I was powerless against the powers that made me.

I shake my head to chase away the memories.

I am not powerless now. I am exactly what I told Ophelia. No means and no end. No thing to be used.

Staring out into the night, I try not to despair in the hollowness of that conviction. Powerful and free I might be, but as the last tendrils of Ophelia’s scent carry away on the star-kissed breeze, there’s also no denying the lonesome ache in my chest.

I try to ignore it, to swallow past it. When that fails, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll through the missed calls, the messages, the business waiting for me even at this late hour.I dial a number I know by heart, and am bolstered by the gruff, char-edged voice that answers.

“Blair.”

“Such a cold greeting for one of your oldest friends.”

The dragon chuckles on the other end of the line. “You got my message?”

“All four of them, yes.”

“And?”

“And I think you’ll find the senator amenable to your request,” I say. “Once I remind him of the …discrepanciesin his campaign financing, of course.”

Another chuckle, low and satisfied. “Excellent. Let me know as soon as you’re able to confirm we have his vote?”

“Expect the call by tomorrow.”

We hang up, and I head for the door back into the building, happy enough to have some purpose. Some task to distract me and keep the memories at bay.

But when the elevator doors open, it’s another scratch at the open wound in my pride, another hit to my resolve when I inhale and catch Ophelia’s scent again.

Gods, but it’s tempting.

The essence of her, all the rich strands of it that reach out and wrap themselves around my throat. Almost enough to make me forget the rest and go after her, to damn myself and pursue her anyway. But I can’t, I won’t, and the scent fades away as I wait too long and the elevator doors close.

I choose the stairs instead.

3

Ophelia - Present Day

My feet pound on concrete in a familiar refrain.

Faster. Harder. Better.

Lungs burning, muscles aching, I push myself to the limit in this last quarter mile. My blood sings with the challenge of it, the need to beat my own best time, to be just a little bitmorethan I was yesterday.

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