Page 45 of Blood Vows
So, I let him carry me.
The rain beat against us as he moved through the storm, his long strides steady and determined. The sound of it on the gravel path and the hiss of the wind through the trees filled the silence between us. But it wasn’t an empty silence. It was heavy, full of everything unsaid.
My tears mingled with the rain, and I didn’t know anymore which drops belonged to me and which to the storm.
The witch had lied.
She had lied to me, twisted the truth until I believed the worst of them. The brothers hadn’t been cursed into loving me. They had loved me because they chose to. Because something deep within them recognized something within me.
And now Vas…
He wasn’t cursed either.
He wasn’t under any spell, and yet he felt it too…that impossible pull that tied us all together, the one that made no sense and terrified me more than anything else.
What did that mean for us now? For me?
How could I ever hope to understand a bond that defied reason, that bound me to three men who shared the same blood and the same darkness?
And what did it mean for the future, if the lies I’d believed were the only thing keeping me safe from the truth? The sky had quieted by the time we reached the manor again, though the wind still tugged at the doors as he pushed them open. The great hall was dark, the sconces burned low, and the flicker of firelight from deeper within the house threw long, shifting shadows across the walls.
He didn’t speak as he carried me through the corridors. His steps were silent but sure, his breath steady against the crown of my head. The warmth of him seeped through my soaked clothes, and despite everything, I found myself leaning into him, too tired and too lost to fight it anymore.
When I finally realised where he was taking me, my heart twisted.
The library.
The one place in this house that felt almost untouched by the darkness. The one place where we could pretend, even for a moment, that there was still light left in either of us.
It felt like ours.
Our secret place where we could both hide from the world this time, and I was no longer a child hiding there alone.
He crossed the threshold and stopped in front of the fire that still burned low in the hearth, its glow soft and golden against the deep mahogany of the shelves. He lowered me gently into one of the high-backed chairs, his touch careful, lingering for a heartbeat longer than it should have.
The crackle of the fire was the only sound between us.
I looked up at him, his hair still dripping, his clothes clinging to him. His face was no longer one I found frightening, even in the light of the fire. If anything, he was now even more breathtaking.
Neither of us spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
Not yet.
The silence stretched between us, long and uncertain, broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire. My clothes clung to my skin, heavy with rain, and the chill was beginning to sink deep into my bones.
Without a word, Vas turned and reached for the throw draped over one of the library chairs. The movement was quiet and deliberate, like he needed something to do with his hands. He stepped back toward me, the firelight painting his face in shades of gold and shadow.
“Here,” he murmured, his voice low, roughened by something that wasn’t quite calm. He crouched before me, unfolding the blanket, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He was so close I could see the droplets of rain still caught in his hair, glinting like diamonds under the soft light. He wrapped the throw gently around my shoulders, tucking it close with a care that felt too intimate for the silence that surrounded us.
Then his hands found my hair.
He rubbed the fabric softly through it, drying the soaked strands, his touch careful, almost reverent. I closed my eyes, letting out a trembling breath, trying to make sense of the quiet between us. The warmth of the fire and the steady rhythm of his movements lulled me into a fragile calm, though beneath it, my mind spun in endless circles.
When I finally spoke, my voice came out small, breaking the silence that felt like it might shatter from the weight of what had passed between us.
“How can you know for certain?” I had to know. I had to hear it, like I knew there was more he wasn’t yet saying. He let his head hang for a moment before it rose, and he confessed,
