Page 2 of Bitten & Burned
“I know I could never compete with your vampire,” he said. It was only a line he’d tossed aside, but it made me pause my reading, made my skin prickle. I closed the book, and dust flew out from between the pages. I coughed and waved in front of my face as Silas crossed to the other side of the room to fetch his tea.
“Gods,” I exclaimed. “You’d think I’d learn not to do that…” I stuffed the book back into my satchel.
“Yes, well. Clears out the sinuses, I suppose,” Silas said with a small smile. “Have you any plans for the rest of the evening?”
“Now that you mention it, I should get back to Vael before he decides I’ve been lured away by something sparkly and cursed.”
Silas huffed a soft laugh. “Give him my regards.” He wrinkled his nose at the cup in his hand, “This is cold.”
“I will.” I waved my hand and heated the cup for him once more, but then, I hesitated. Not because I had more to say to him, but because the room hummed wrong for a moment—like the wards had to pause to catch their breath. The air prickled faintly against my skin. Heat bloomed beneath my collar.
Then it passed.
I rolled my shoulders briefly. “Tea does not equal a full night’s rest. Make sure you eat something as well.”
“Dictator,” he said, amused, and dipped his head. “Careful travels, Rowena.”
“Get some sleep, Silas.” Then, I left him to his rocks.
The corridor was notably warmer than his office, the air heavy against my skin in a way that felt…wrong. I slipped off my cardigan with ease, draping it over my satchel as I walked. The relief was only fleeting.
I took the steps down two at a time, past glass cases of rune-broken swords and a mural of the first Stone War chipped by time and careless students. Enchanted brooms swept the halls as I skirted them, in a hurry to get outside.
Once I pushed out the large wooden door, the courtyard spread before me in an expanse of moonlight and shadows. Surrounding the courtyard were raised beds gone black with the night, gravel paths gleaming silver in the light, the fountain murmuring to itself like it kept secrets and wanted them to know they were safe. Its bubbling voice had a cadence I recognized from Ebria’s old tide-songs; it should have steadied me, but tonight it sounded off-key, like a familiar hymn sung slightly out of time.
I blinked. Something was off.
I’d thought the heat would ease once outdoors, but it didn’t. It pressed harder, sinking into me until my blouse clung damp against my neck. Worrisome. It felt like something was crawling under my skin. It was possible I’d picked up something bacterial while I’d been out. Or perhaps there was something residual from Dr. Drummond’s office. I’d have to take a cool bath once I got back to Vael’s apartment.
As I approached the outer gate surrounding the courtyard, I saw him.
Vael Vexley leaned one shoulder against the limestone, a book in his hands, lantern light gilding the edge of his profile—the warm sweep of brown hair falling just so over his brow, the sharp line of his jaw dusted with the barest shadow. His coat fitlike it had been made precisely for him, broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, every button fastened with an almost infuriating precision.
He didn’t look up. Of course, he knew I was here; he always knew. Still, he had to give the appearance of a man wholly unbothered. Andgods,he did it with style.
Relief loosened something low in my chest. I kept walking, gravel grinding under my boots. By the Four, I felt like I was burning from the inside out. I stopped short of reaching him, bending to rest my hands on my knees. My satchel slid to the ground.
Frowning, I lifted my hand to summon it again. It wiggled on the ground and then nothing.
What?
I held my hand out further, stiffly open over the satchel on the ground.
Nothing.
Then, the world tilted.
Pain detonated in my left thigh.
It hit so suddenly, I didn’t make a sound at first, just swallowed air that didn’t know where to go. Then it ripped out of me anyway, high and raw. It was a sound I’d never made in my life.
Heat spread deep, like someone dragging a hot dagger in a deliberate curve against my skin. It bit muscle, curled into bone, burrowed. My knees went loose. I caught myself on a garden bed and dragged my skirt up one-handed, because I needed to see it. I needed evidence.
There. Right where the pain seemed to originate, a mark bloomed where only skin had been a breath ago: black and maroon, ugly and precise, veins spidering outward like an ink spill. It shimmered faintly, lit from within, the edges humming beneath my fingertips.
Inera! Goddess, save me…
“What?” I repeated. It wasn’t confusion—it was a realization.It looked exactly as if someone had branded me with an iron. From the inside out.
