Page 68 of Caller of Crows
This was exactly the kind of weakness he should avoid. He had not made it through Isabella's death only to learn nothing at all.
Who knew if the mortal would even return to him after all of this? If Sven's mother passed, he would have no reason to come back with Altair, and since Altair couldn't enter the hospital room, this would be a perfect opportunity for the mortal to escape.
The sun was going to be rising soon as well.
Altair looked up at the sky, which was still dark but wouldn't be for much longer. Soon enough, light would color the horizon.
Maybe it would be best to let the mortal go. If the business with his mother was concluded, there was no danger that he would run and offer himself to another coven, at least.
They could each return to their separate lives and pretend they'd never met each other. The thought hurt, but Altair steeled his heart. He was not soft or sentimental. He was a vampire.
But when the doors opened and Sven emerged, eyes red and cheeks wet, Altair realized he didn't have it in him. The mortal didn't need to speak for Altair to know the loss he'd suffered.
His face spoke volumes. He looked exhausted. Tired. Desperate.
And then he walked over to Altair, straight into his arms as if he belonged there, as if Altair was not a cold-hearted predator of the night.
Sven clung to Altair as he buried his face in the vampire's chest, and something inside of Altair broke. His resolve. His hard-fought sanity.
What else could he do except wrap the mortal in his embrace and whisper reassuring nonsense against Sven's forehead as the man silently sobbed against him? There was something incredibly poignant about Sven's grief, something deeply moving that Altair recognized in his own heart. He knew the pain the mortal felt so very intimately.
And there was a small part of him that rejoiced at having the mortal in his arms, knowing that he was there for him to comfort him in his moment of need. That he was the one Sven turned to, despite it all.
"Take me home," the mortal whispered, his voice hoarse and broken.
Altair tightened his hold on him, feeling an intense possessiveness creep up in him.
This moment, Altair knew—he was never going to let this mortal go.
Not willingly.
ChapterNineteen
Sven didn't want to be alone.
He knew heshouldbe. His emotions were raw, his pain an open wound. After saying goodbye to his mother, he shouldn't be running back to the vampire he'd only approached to save her, but Altair's presence brought him comfort, and the truth was… Svenneededthat right now.
Needed it so damn much.
As Altair held him, the last bit of Sven's strength seemed to disappear. He sagged against the vampire, leaning into him for support. He felt drained, so horribly drained.
But he also felt safe, tucked up against the vampire.
Altair made him feel secure, protected.
The way a vampire really should not make him feel.
He drew in a shaky breath, struggling against his emotions, and failed miserably. He couldn't help it. Hemissedher already.
"Take me home," he whispered.
He wanted to be wrapped up in darkness and silence andAltair.
The vampire seemed to understand that because he gave Sven exactly what he needed. He didn't ask questions or hesitate, merely held Sven close for a moment longer, and then opened the passenger door to his sleek black car.
Sven sat down, numb, allowing the vampire to buckle his seatbelt.
His mother was gone.
