Page 89 of Vampire's Breath

“I thought you grew up here,” I said, gesturing around the room.

He shook his head. “This isn’t where I grew up at all. This was built in the 1600s. I was born on the spring equinox in 1122.”

The year felt impossible, too ancient to be tied to the man standing in front of me. But the spring equinox? I fought a smile, my heart warming at the connection. “That means our birthdays are exactly six months apart on the calendar.”

He tilted his head. “You were born on the spring equinox?”

“Yes, in the Southern Hemisphere.”

“Please?” He held out his hand in invitation.

I kept my arms bound to my sides, but stood next to him. “Let’s go.”

His expression fell along with his hand, realization dawning that I would not take it. He bit his lip, his voice strained. “This way.”

He turned, leading me through the pantry and out the other side into a dining room. We crossed the room, then passed through a leaded glass door into the formal gardens.

Ivy and roses crept along the stone paths, their sweet, rich scent still heavy in the air, like they were trying to mask something awful beneath it. To the left, the wall I’d seen from the beach stretched into the distance. From here, it was low enough that I could see the harbor on the other side.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Just over here.” He pointed at the ash and hawthorn trees at the end of the path. Leading me into the shaded grove, he stopped in front of a weathered cottage door. The hinges creaked as he pushed it open, holding it, waiting for me to pass him.

Inside, shadows danced on the stones from slivers of light that came through the tiny windows dotting each of the walls. In the back corner, a large fireplace remained cold. The earthy smell of the dirt floor engulfed me as I took in the sparse furnishings. Only a table with two benches sat off to the left, and a few chairs and crates to the right. Shelves and pegs on the walls held pans, dishes, and farming implements.

I jumped as Lorcan’s hand grazed the small of my back.

“This is where I grew up,” he breathed. “This is where I spent my childhood. The manor was fields back then—my brothers and I ran through them, playing games like other children. We slept in front of that fireplace on a wolf skin rug, huddled together for warmth. We were inseparable then.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Even Aiden?”

He nodded. “It was long before he became what he is now.”

I tilted my head. “And what is that? Where did he go?”

“He probably slithered into whatever hole he came out of. Cormac will find him in a week or two. That has been his mission for over a hundred years. Find Aiden and keep him from descending completely into narcissistic madness. He’s not doing very well.” He pulled in a long breath. “But before, when we were close, nothing could come between us.”

I tried to imagine them as children, laughing gleefully in a place now haunted by the truth.

“What Rory and Isla said is true,” I murmured. “You’re not a full vampire.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. My mother was human, so my brothers and I were born, not created. We aged normally—until we were about thirty. By then, we’d already been sent to England because people in our clan had noticed that my parents stopped aging.”

I bit my lip. His family had been sent to England for a practical reason, not some grand curse—neighbors with sharp eyes and too much time to talk.

He glanced at me before moving to the mantel and toying with a candleholder. “My grandfather was the Ceann Cine, the elected chieftain. He sent my father to represent the clan as the Marquess of Dún Na Farraige. Centuries later, that was where I met Lady Isobel, when it was my turn to take over the position again.”

“To take it over again?” I asked, tilting my head.

He nodded. “First, it was my father, then Cormac, me, Aiden, and then Conall. We each took our turn, again and again, until we left for America.” I tried to comprehend what the centuries would have been like—each brother taking a turn like it was no different from passing down a set of keys, while I couldn’t imagine life stretching beyond a few more decades.

He drew in a long breath. “Briar, believe me—I tried to help Lady Isobel. The best I could do was save her from the gallows. I knew she was angry, but I didn’t realize she’d decided to kill Ashdowne herself. I would have stopped her, saved her.”

A spark of pride flared in my chest for Lady Isobel, even if her path had been bloody.

He turned to me, guilt clouding his face. “I should have avenged Harrowmont myself, but I hesitated. Briar, I’m so sorry.”

I tried to understand his apology, to connect the pieces, but the last piece… “How did we both end up in Byron Bay?”

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