Page 5 of Bitten & Burned
He chuckled. “Will my lady be taking her breakfast en suite this morning? Or will she grace me with her presence at the table?”
The table was a small one. Vael had mostly used it for tea until I came along with my human needs.
“May I split the difference and take it in the sitting room?”
“I shall inform the staff.”
I snickered. “Who is this said staff? This is a one-bedroom apartment.”
“Why, Fig obviously,” Vael replied in faux indignation.
“Fig, you say?” I reached down to scratch my cat’s ears where he lay at my feet. “I have the distinct feeling that you’ll be tackling this task alone.”
“Yes, well, I never said it wasgoodstaff.”
I laughed, and Figmrphhedfrom where he lay, stretching out his tiny form as if he were waking purely to weigh in on the discussion himself.
“Would you like coffee or tea?” Vael called.
I was about to say ‘tea’, but my breath caught in my throat as a sharp pain stabbed in my leg. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t sayanything.
Gods, no… not already… I hadn’t even done anything. Nothing magic, nothing at all.
“Rowena?” Vael called. I’d have answered him if I didn’t know the next sound coming from my mouth would be a scream.
An acute,rippingpain bloomed along my thigh like a snakebite.
I rolled over into a ball and tried to think of something else. My work. Vael. Fig. Anything else.
Fig meowed, rubbing against me anxiously. I wanted to pet him, but I couldn’t move. He meowed louder, which seemed to alert Vael.
“Rowena?” he repeated, his voice low in my ear. He was at my side now, the mattress dipping under his weight.
“It hurts,” I whimpered. “Gods, why won’t it stop?”
“Witchling… let me help.” He brushed a wisp of hair from my face, his fingers lingering at my jaw before I turned into his palm.
“Please,” I whispered.
He nodded once, then rose just enough to guide me back toward the pillows. “There. Lie back. Straighten your spine for me.”
I obeyed slowly, my breath catching as Vael knelt between my legs, spreading them with deliberate care. His fingertips traced a slow path up my thigh until they hovered just inside. “May I?” he murmured.
I nodded.
When he bit down, I gasped—not from his fangs, but from the fire in my blood being pulled free in slow, measured draws.
Relief spread through me like warm honey, loosening every knot in my body. It was the closest thing to true magic I’d felt in months, as though the gods themselves had finally answered—though I knew it was only Vael’s dark gift buying me a moment’s grace. My hands fisted in the sheets, then in his hair. The panic unraveled.
“Breathe,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a steady anchor. His tongue soothed the punctures, and he lingered there,lips brushing my thigh in a way that was no longer purely medicinal.
Vael eased back, just far enough to look at me. His mouth was still close enough that I felt his breath, warm and unhurried. His eyes searched mine—steady, waiting, giving me the space to choose.
I didn’t look away. My fingers tightened in his hair.
The pain had subsided, but he didn’t move, didn’t touch me. The air between us thickened with tension, pulling taut until it snapped.
I yanked, and that was all the answer he needed.
