Chapter Fourteen
Vladimir
For a while, I simply watch Grant sleep. That is after I have removed his shoes and tucked him under the duvet and slipped away for long enough to change into my pyjama bottoms. Perhaps Eirian will come for us, but I doubt that she will make her move today.
I cannot bring myself to care beyond the anger that flickers at the back of my mind. It is brief, snuffed out by the way Grant is all pressed up against me, even as he slumbers on. I shuffle down the bed, bringing us face-to-face, and wrap one arm around his middle.
Can I truly have this? Have him? For a moment, I truly believed I had been tricked. Why would he kiss me?
My lips tingle. We can discuss that when he wakes, though I do not know if that will be hours or perhaps even days from now. I trace his features with my eyes. He radiates heat, skin almost glowing with it, though I am not certain he was out there for longer than several minutes.
I sigh and sit up slightly, reaching for my phone. I need to inform the Huntsman of what has happened with Eirian, though I am unsure whether I will keep this new development regarding Grant to myself.
I grimace as the line rings. Perhaps I will tell him. He will undoubtedly know that something is wrong. Different. He can pick up on subtleties like that.
Only, he does not answer. I attempt to call twice more, but the phone rings and rings and then sends me to voicemail. Frowning, I dial Asher instead. Paxton will coax everything out of me, and I do not know if Jeremiah or Maurice will still be awake at this time of the morning.
“Vlad? Everything okay?”
I glance at Grant again, still sleeping peacefully behind me. My chest feels tight. Not painful, not a terrible feeling at all.
“Fine,” I murmur. “I have been attempting to contact the Huntsman, but—”
“He left yesterday.”
“Left?”
“Went to the Otherworld.” Something clatters, as though Asher is doing something, and I hear the faint murmur that tells me his mate is near. “Jeremiah rang me last night. Said he’d let you know later today.”
“Hm.” I don’t like that. Not Jeremiah not telling me—that makes sense, as he knows we are working. But that the Huntsman has left so quickly and without warning. “I may require your assistance here.”
Asher is silent for a moment. “Really?”
“We encountered the fae last night.”
“Is Grant okay? Are you—”
“We are both…” I hesitate. “We are both fine.”
“Vlad.”
“We are. I promise you, I would not—” What? Allow Grant to be hurt. He was hurt. I am certain of that. He thought he would die. I believed he was already gone. “We are fine.”
“Okay, okay. Look, we can be there in a few hours. Send me your hotel address. I’ll text you when we leave and we’ll come straight to you.”
We? I don’t ask. If Asher wishes to bring his mate along, that is his business, not mine.
“I will.”
“Keep yourself safe in the meantime. Make sure your wards are strong.”
I nod, although he cannot see me, but he says goodbye and hangs up as though I replied in the affirmative. I place my phone gently aside and let my blessing out to probe at the wards.
They are far stronger than they were last night, though at first glance, they seem not to have changed at all. I feel the push of Grant’s power and gasp. He sleeps on, but apparently, his magic is still keeping us both safe.
I settle back down beside him and when he lets out a quiet, satisfied noise, I curl around him, drawing him even closer.
Perhaps he will wake and regret all of this. Perhaps he will not remember it happened at all.
Until then, I will soak up every moment I can.
Asher and Quinn arrive five hours later. Asher calls ahead when they are half an hour away, so by the time I hear a faint knock on our room door, I am as prepared as I can be.
Which is to say I am still in bed next to Grant. Every time I attempt to move away, he makes a distressed sound, and I pull him closer, hold him tighter.
I reach out with my blessing and the lock snicks as it opens. “Come in,” I murmur. They will both hear it.
Asher enters first and stops dead once he catches sight of us. Quinn walks into the back of him, then peeks around his shoulder, eyes going big and round. At least Asher has the grace to catch himself quickly.
“You… You’re both all right?”
“I said so on the phone.”
Asher presses his lips together. He and his mate exchange a look that I do not waste any time interpreting. “Should we come back?”
I sigh. Grant has shown no signs of waking, and I have only slept a few hours myself. The faster I explain things, the faster we go back to resting, as I wish to be awake again at sundown. “No. Sit. Please.”
Asher cocks an eyebrow at please and gestures for Quinn to take the stool. They silently glare at each other for a few seconds before Quinn sighs and sits down, though he pulls Asher to stand alongside him.
“What happened?” Asher asks.
I do not mean to, but I explain all of it. Grant skilfully luring Jakob in. Running into his cousin and her partner. Grant disappearing and returning here, only to find the fae, and this morning—
I leave out the kiss. There are things I would rather keep to myself. Besides, I think Quinn at least has it figured out from the blush that floods his cheeks.
Asher’s focus is elsewhere. “He was out in the sun?” The horror in his voice echoes what I felt only hours ago. Perhaps I have underestimated how much the other members of the Hunt have come to care for Grant, despite the distance I have placed between him and everyone around him.
“He survived,” I say, then shake my head. “No. It made him stronger.”
“How?”
Quinn tilts his head to one side. “Fae magic?”
“What?” Asher and I both speak at the same time, and Quinn shrugs.
“I mean, I’m not a witch or a mage or whatever.
Obviously. But it seems like…” He frowns, thinking, then shakes his head.
“Wolves and fae both have some kind of earth magic, right? Ours came about in response to theirs, so we’re resistant to it.
And we’re also poisonous to vampires because they have death magic and earth magic is all about life and light… ”
He trails off, still frowning. Asher and I stare at each other in surprised silence. When that goes on for too long, Quinn hunches his shoulders.
“I mean, it’s probably not that, right? Not like I know about magic. I—”
Asher cuts him off by taking Quinn’s face in both hands and kissing him softly. Quinn holds on to his wrists, tension instantly melting from his frame, and I am reminded of the way Grant leaned against me earlier this morning, clinging to me so desperately.
“I think you’re onto something, pup,” Asher says, and Quinn smiles up at him.
“That is what Eirian is looking for,” I say, nodding. Not all the pieces are in place, but enough that I know she will seek out Grant again. “She wants a vampire who can withstand the light.”
“Why?” Asher asks. “To rule?”
“I think we do not understand everything about the Otherworld, but that is of little import. Do we retreat to London or stay here?”
Asher’s face does something complicated. Like Maurice, he is an idealist, but unlike Maurice, he has never had the luxury of disobedience. Not that I was aware of that until recently.
“We came here to get a name,” I say.
“Do you think she’ll follow you to London?” Quinn asks, and I bite back the growl that wants to bubble forth. “Does anyone know he survived?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I did not—I did not ask.”
The corner of Quinn’s mouth twitches, but he nods and drops his eyes. Asher’s hand falls to the back of his neck and he leans his hip against Quinn’s side.
“What’s Grant going to want to do?” Asher asks.
I glance down at him. He has one hand splayed across my stomach and his cheek rests on my chest. I cannot see his expression from here, but I hope it is peaceful.
I could say I do not know. I cannot be certain. That we should take him home to ensure he recovers and to investigate this new power he apparently has.
But I know what he wants. This was his territory before it belonged to the vampires who now rule it. People he cares about are here. He will be furious with me if we take him home before we have, at the very least, dealt with Jakob, and even more so if I say that it was a reaction to his change.
“We will stay,” I say. “This room is well-warded.”
Asher snorts. “Yeah, nice try, but I don’t think there’s enough space in here for the four of us.” He gives his mate a heated look, and Quinn snickers. “We’ll get one on this floor. I’ll ward it.”
I bite back the concerns I wish to say aloud. Asher’s grip on his blessing has—somehow—improved since he and Quinn acknowledged their bond, but he does not have the power I have, and the wards on this room are being boosted by Grant’s new magic.
“She is high fae,” I say instead.
Quinn takes hold of Asher’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, over the butterfly tattoo that adorns his skin. “I’m not too worried about that,” he says, and his eyes flash silver, just for a second.
Asher’s hand shakes. He yanks Quinn out of the chair and over to the door. “We’ll be back before it gets dark,” he shouts, and Quinn laughs as they stumble out of the room and into the hall.
I snort. Grant murmurs something, more a sound than a word, and I shuffle down the bed again and press my face to his hair. I hope I have made the right decision. I hope this is what he wants.