Page 139 of Bitten & Burned
“Of course you do,” Dmitri said lazily, stepping aside. “She’s all yours. For now.”
Vael flicked his gaze up and down Dmitri’s body. “Do you mind putting something over... that? We have important matters to discuss.”
Dmitri didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t care.
He just leaned against the doorway like a statue carved out of golden arrogance and let the silence stretch.
I sighed. “I’ll get dressed.”
I slipped from the bed, pulling on my chemise in silence while they stood there like judgment given form. Let them watch. Let them stew.
Once I was decently covered, I folded my arms.
“Well? Speak.”
Vael didn’t answer. Not directly. He turned to Quil.
“Tell her,” he said. “She deserves to hear it from you.”
I narrowed my eyes. So that was it. Pass the shame baton.Make Quil do the hard part. I wasn’t sure if it was cowardice or cruelty.
But Quil didn’t flinch.
Not this time.
He looked at me. Really looked. And it struck me—Vaelwasn’t. He was still focused on Dmitri. On Quil. On anyone but me. Keeping the conversation angled just enough to avoid me.
The way Quil used to.
As if I wasn’t the one bleeding at the center of this mess. Like it was easier to speak around me than look me in the eyes.
At least Quil didn’t look away.
He stepped forward, voice low and rough. His eyes were dark and focused. On me.
“The sigil on your leg?” he began.
I blinked. The wound? The one that had been plaguing my very existence for months? “What about it?”
At the mention, the sigil flared hot under my skin, as if it knew it was being spoken about.
“It’s not just a random sigil,” he said. “It’s got a purpose. It’s a family sigil, to be exact. My… my family.”
My pulse spiked.
“I have the same one on my back. It’s been there since I was thirteen…” The bond jolted, staccato and jagged, like it wanted to reject the words even as Quil forced them out. “It’s an Ashborne family ward.” He turned and pulled up his shirt, revealing a scar in the exact shape of the sigil on my thigh.
My stomach dropped.
“You’ve known I had it this whole time?” I asked, clipped.
“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head and dropping the hem of his shirt. “Only since the night you were attacked. On Anton’s boat. I’d never seen it before then, but you, you were…” he trailed off, throat bobbing. “I didn’t see it before that night.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it since then?”
