Page 6 of Taming His Vampire Mate
I tried not to feel the crashing disappointment.
“I don’t understand,” Poppy said. “That should have worked. Can you go over what you saw?”
“A bunch of dead vampires,” I said, trying to steady myself. “A lot of them. One after another. Whatever your spell tapped into, it wasn’t fate.”
“No,” she said, frowning and uncharacteristically somber. “That’s just it: I think it did. Ifeltit link into the fate lines connected to you. I don’t know why you saw a bunch of dead people, though. Did you know them?”
Seeing my brother’s face was painful, a jagged wound her spell had just reopened.
“No,” I lied, fighting to sound normal.
Poppy studied me. My face must have betrayed something of what I felt, because her expression softened. “You know what? We can do the post-mortem later.”
“Quite,” Nathaniel said, stepping close. His black eyes, warmer than Godric’s had been, brimmed with concern. “Take tomorrow off. Stay here. Rest.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated. Maybe if I said it enough, it would be true.
“You may experience strange dreams tonight,” Tatiana said, coming to stand beside us. “They may aid us in determining what went wrong. Waiting for symptoms will only help.”
Poppy shot her a startled look—probably because the witch queen was talking about continuing our project. Poppy must have assumed this was our last attempt at something so risky and obviously doomed to fail.
“We’ll speak more of this tomorrow. In the morning.” Tatiana’s lips curled in disdain as she looked me over, her gaze lingering on my mauve velvet suit. “Or whatever time of day passes for that for a vampire.”
While I stood there, feeling hollowed out, everyone else drifted toward their vehicles. They might have spoken to me. I might have replied. I wasn’t sure.
Danny left last, trading a meaningful look with his mate that likely said everything, thanks to their blood bond, which enabled them to communicate telepathically as clearly and easily as speaking words aloud.
Eventually, it was just Michael and me.
“Want to talk about it?” Michael asked once we were alone.
“No,” I said flatly.
He shrugged, unbothered. “Stay out here as long as you need. When you’re ready, there’s a bed upstairs. And plenty of pig’s blood in the fridge.”
“How you can drink that slop is beyond me.”
“It’s better than hurting someone just to survive.”
“Who said you need to hurt anyone? My feeding partners always leave smiling, hunter.”
Michael snorted, shaking his head. “You lied earlier, didn’t you? You knew the vampires you saw.”
“Some of them,” I allowed, wary of the sudden shift in the conversation. But it was hard to lie outright to Michael. Maybe because he was my progeny. Or maybe because there was a strange understanding between us, born of having done the impossible together. I added, “But the vampires I saw are all dead now. The visions aren’t important.”
“If you want to talk—”
“If I need an agony aunt, you’ll be the first person I call,” I said waspishly, though I felt equal parts grateful and annoyed.
He looked oddly relieved. Perhaps I sounded more like myself.
“Right,” he chuckled, shaking his head again. “Well, like I said, come inside whenever you’re ready.”
With that, he turned to go.
“What if there’s no one?” I asked. The words slipped out before I realized I was going to say them. I hated how small my voice sounded. The visions had left me feeling brittle. Could he hear that in my voice? Could he hear the centuries of loneliness?
It was Michael. Probably.
