Page 62 of Sacrifice of the Vampir
The thread pulsed in my grip, alive and writhing like a snake caught in a web. Through it, I could feel every version of Talin scattered across the possibilities. Felt her pain, her determination, her absolute refusal to give up on Alex even if it cost her everything.
Stubborn woman. Beautiful, brave, infuriating woman.
I love her.
The thought crashed through me with the force of a freight train. I loved her. Not just wanted her. Not just needed her blood or craved her body or felt bound to her by fate.
I loved the way she refused to give up. Loved her sharp tongue and sharper mind. Loved the vulnerability she showed me last night, the trust it took to bare her scar to me. Loved her fierce loyalty to family, her determination to save Alex even when everyone told her she was crazy.
I loved her, and I would drag her back from the edge of oblivion if I had to tear this entire fucking realm apart to do it.
TALIN!
I poured everything into that call. Every emotion I'd suppressed for a hundred years. Every desperate need for control and order, reframed into a singular purpose…
Bringing her home.
The thread in my hand blazed so bright I couldn't look at it directly. Power flooded through the bond, vampire strength and will and pure, stubborn refusal to let her go.
Come.
Back.
To me.
Chapter 16
Talin
The voice cut through a thousand possible futures, a single point of certainty in an ocean of light and noise.
Come back to me.
Pain erupted in my chest. I wanted to follow that voice. More than anything, I wanted to follow it. But I couldn't. There were too many threads, too many paths. Alex was dying in seven of them. Saved in three. Lost to Marcus's control in twelve. Transformed into something unrecognizable in eight. And there were so many more I hadn't explored yet.
I needed to see all of them. Needed to understand which choice led where. Needed to?—
Something flooded through me in a head rush, like when you stand up too fast and you almost blackout.
Not words. Not even emotion, exactly. Memory. Raw and unfiltered, pouring into me with the force of a tidal wave, and I suddenly saw myself through Elias's eyes.
The first night I walked into The Purple Fang, my hair still damp from rain, green eyes scanning the room. He noticed me immediately. Not because of any bond. Not because of fate. Because I looked lost and defiant at the same time, like I was daring the world to try and break me.
Beautiful, he thought. But dangerous.
Another memory. Me standing in the alley outside the bar, hands crackling with power I couldn't control. He wanted to reach for me even then, before he understood why. Wanted to fix whatever was breaking inside me, wanted to teach me how to harness the magic instead of fear it.
She doesn't know how strong she is.
The night I came to his room bleeding. The terror that gripped him when he smelled my blood, saw the evidence of my reckless attempt to use my power alone. He'd wanted to shake me and kiss me in equal measure. Wanted to lock me somewhere safe where I couldn't hurt myself trying to be brave. Wanted to lick the blood from my face and sink his fangs into my throat.
Stubborn witch. MY stubborn witch.
The moment he drank from me. The wild taste of my blood, the way it sang through his veins like it was a drug made specifically for him. The absolute certainty that crashed over him. Not fate. Not magic. Just knowing.
MINE.
And last night. Oh, gods, last night.
