Page 21 of Bitten & Burned
“Because, I was thinking, if we’re doing this… if you’re still wanting to do it…?” I paused, looking at him.
He nodded, “And I do.”
“Right, so if we’re bonded, I’m for all intents and purposes withyou, correct?”
Vael chuckled. “I would argue you’rewithme now, Witchling—but yes, officially it would mean that I am yours and you are mine.
He caught the look I gave him and laughed softly. “Not ownership--don’t look at me like that—I mean it in the old way. Claimed. Bound. Protected. Desired.
“Vael. I get it. I know what you mean,” I insisted, but the blush rising up my neck betrayed me.
“Good, I just didn’t want you thinking that I’d be slapping a collar on you and dragging you back to Halemont on a leash. He leaned closer, brushing his nose against mine before pulling back slightly. “But yes, it would mean that you’rewithme.”
I nodded. “And you’re coven-bonded to them, yes?”
“Yes, but that’s a different sort of thing entirely.”
“I know, but still, if I’m with you, and you’re covenbonded to them?—”
Realization dawned on his face, and he gave a low, thoughtful hum. “Ah, yes. I see it now, you want to know what they think—because being mine would mean you’re under their protection too. Not just mine.”
I let out a breath. “Exactly.”
He hummed softly, scratching Fig’s ears while he thought. “Their approval doesn’t matter to me, not truly—but I care if it matters to you. And I care if it would make your life harder.”
I felt a surge of love for him, but I merely reached for his hand before responding. “So, if they aren’t supportive? What will you do?”
“Then I’ll persuade them, Witchling. And if persuasion fails, I’ll remind them that I am not asking their permission—I’m giving them a chance to stand beside us willingly. They’d be fools not to.”
I settled back against the seat, resting my head for a moment. “Quil won’t like it.”
Vael huffed out a soft laugh, reaching for her hand and lacing their fingers. “No, he won’t. He’ll sulk and scowl and threaten me, but in the end, he’ll come around. He always does.”
“I hope so,” I murmured, my thoughts turning to Quil against my will. I didn’t like thinking about him. Not because I disliked him. Because it hurt.
Quil Ashborne had a wild look to him, like a caged animal. Every time I faced him, he watched me sideways, as if I were backing him into a corner he refused to stay in. He spoke, but never to me—just around me.Vael, tell your… companion to move her cloak from the sofa downstairs. Vael, tell your companion to close the library door when she’s done in there; the draft makes my rooms too cold. Vael, tell your companion to leave her books in the library—I’m sick of tripping over them everywhere—that’s what the library’s for, after all.”
He always looked half-feral, too: hair just a bit too long, never tidy, just a dark mess that fell over his brow when he frowned atme—and he was always frowning at me. I wasn’t sure there was another expression he could make.
There was always stubble on his jaw, as if the idea of a razor or neatness offended him. He wore his clothes like armor—battered black trousers tucked into scuffed boots, shirts with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, cuffs frayed from too many fights or too little care. Once, when he brushed past me in the hall, I caught a glimpse of ink on his forearm—something sharp and black, jagged lines like claws or branches. I wanted to ask what it meant. I never did.
I’d tried, once, to be kind. I offered him a cup of tea when I found him brooding by the fire. He didn’t even look at me. Just said, “Vael, tell your companion not to hover.”
And yet, every time he stalked away, some foolish part of me wanted to follow him. I wanted to know why he resented me so much. I didn’t have the strength to hear his answer.
“Hey… you went somewhere again… I’m going to run out of florins at this rate, Witchling.”
I chuckled. “Sorry. Guess I’m just being pensive this evening.”
“Well, if I were to guess the destination of your journey, you were… contemplating Quil and his likely reaction?”
I nodded. “I just… don’t understand why he resents me so much.”
Vael sighed softly, eyes thoughtful. “Quil isn’t one to easily accept change, especially when it feels like someone is being placed between him and what he knows. It’s not you he resents, not really—it’s the shift, the loss of control. He’s been through a lot, more than most realize… the Ashborne family… they were a rough place to start. And sometimes, when someone is dealing with that much systemic pain, they lash out at the closest thing, even if it’s unfair.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “It doesn’t make it right, but it’s part of who he is.”
“He’s known me for the better part of a year, though.”
Vael smirked, eyes glinting, “A year is nothing to an immortal being—time means differentthings to us.”
