Page 19 of Bitten & Burned
I’d gotten accepted to study at the Arcanum of Caer Voss at the tender age of seventeen, and I had barely gone home to visit since.
I hadn’t seen my father in months. I’d told him about my injury in only the barest terms. Left out the amulet Dr. Drummond made me—gods, he’d have had a fit. Amulets were my family’s art, after all—my father forged silver as if it breathed, and my mother had cut gems so their veins aligned with lunar tides. To admit I wore another man’s work would’ve been like betraying both.
So it was just that: another nail in the coffin of my relationship with my father. Easier to keep my distance than try to explain how far I’d drifted…and how much I still sort of wished he’d pull me back.
“Would a florin buy me a glimpse inside that mind of yours, Witchling?” Vael’s warm voice pulled me back.
I blinked, realizing my hand was still in Fig’s fur. “Just thinking.”
“Two florins if you tell me where you went just now.”
I gave him a rueful smile, taking a deep breath to ground myself before speaking. “I was just thinking about my parents… my mother. And my father.”
Vael’s expression softened slightly, his voice evened as he lowered it. “Ambrose?”
I nodded, tracing a finger along Fig’s ear as he curled up in Vael’s lap. “I haven’t seen him since all of this happened. I sentword by the Arcane Missive Guild, and all he sent in reply was a bouquet of psalknots and his condolences.
“Perhaps he’s still thinking about what else to say?” Vael offered.
I laughed derisively. “For six months? No, I prefer to live my life free of delusion. He likely doesn’t wish to speak with or see me. And I have no wish to reach out again, not after I let someone else make the amulet.”
Vael made a noise in the back of his throat, half sympathetic, half amused. He shifted slightly closer, as much as he could with Fig still curled in his lap.
“Rowena,” he began, his voice dripping soft and slow like velvet, “You’re his only child. And I may be terribly biased, but I think you’re a delightful person. I can only imagine the love he has for you—even though you drive him mad.”
I struggled to hold back a smile. Vael always knew what to say. Some would say that was because of his gift, but I liked to think I know Vael better than some.
He smiled then, sly and warm. “Besides, children are supposed to drive their fathers mad. It’s part of the arrangement.”
I laughed. “You’re certainly optimistic.”
“I prefer to think of it as realistic. Love has a way of surviving our most inconvenient disappointments. He tilted his head, catching my gaze. “When you’re ready, we’ll go to him. Together.”
I reached for him, running my fingertips along his jawline before leaning up to brush my lips against his. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask,” he replied, kissing me once more. Fig meowed, and he sat back, laughing as Fig put his paws on his chest to rub against his chin. “Someone’s jealous, it seems.”
“He isn’t partial to sharing,” I said with a laugh.
“Neither am I,” Vael said, leaning over to kiss me once more, much to Fig’s chagrin. The poor thing couldn’t decide which of us to snuggle with.
Vael’s comment stirred something within me. Something about my conversation with Silas that day.
The blood bonding ritual.
I glanced over at Vael. He was currently rubbing his nose against Fig’s fur and cooing at him. It brought a smile to my face. A warm feeling I didn’t wish to name.
“You’re staring,” Vael murmured.
“You’re adorable,” I replied.
“No, you’re thinking,” he countered.
“No, I’m fairly certain you’re adorable,” I teased.
“Rowena, how can I help you if you won’t share it with me?”
“Fine,” I acquiesced. “Have you ever heard of vampire blood bonding rituals?”
