Chapter 13 #3
Rin ran her fingertip over the flames around her wrist, unable to stop the sound of wonder that fell from her lips, horror quickly following.
The flames flickered and danced under her touch.
"Why would you save her?" Cyrus’s voice pierced her astonishment.
Valkar’s flames didn’t relent. No, they wrapped around her tighter, tugging her until her toes brushed the concrete floors as she was yanked back into the vampire’s arms. He held her against him, the flames curling around her wrists like a lover.
She struggled to keep her eyes open, her heart kicking up into a dangerous beat. Like one, long incessant flutter. Rin tried to reach for her chest, but the flames kept her trapped.
She tried to cry out, but her lips wouldn’t work. Sweat beaded on her temples, dripping down her face—not from the heat of the flames, but from the overworked, sluggish pound of the Nova-infected organ in her chest.
She felt every grumble of Valkar’s words as he said, "Because I’m her Soulbond."
Rin’s limbs went slack, and she passed out in the leader of Noctis’s arms.
Cyrus watched with fear gripping him as Vesperin’s eyelids fluttered in the vampire’s arms, her limbs going slack as the flames tightened around her, keeping her upright even though she wasn’t conscious.
The manacles around his wrists cut into his flesh, and the flames circling him made sweat pour down his spine. He didn’t stop trying to get to her.
"Let me go! Ves!" The incubus’s eyes were wild, a red glimmer sparking in the air as he tried to feed on Valkar, but it was no use—the vampire’s shields were impenetrable. Cyrus had never seen anything like it, except for his own father, who was nearing a thousand years old.
Fuck, Cyrus should’ve withered this bastard when he had the chance in the motel. But something had held him back. If only he hadn’t been so naive.
Valkar’s flames kept Vesperin upright, and the vampire pressed a finger under her jaw, feeling for her pulse. That drew Cyrus’s attention to the blood on her neck, and the two purpling bruises on the side—fucking bite marks. Damn this bastard. He had bitten her!
Her shirt was coated in blood, but Cyrus’s sense of smell picked up on the fact that it didn’t belong to her—the blood on her neck did, though.
The vampire’s eyes grew wide, and Cyrus heard it, too—the pulsing drone of her heart.
"Let me go," Cyrus begged the vampire. "She’s going to die." A sob clawed its way out of his chest. Please, not this way. Not now. He had just gotten her back.
Something in his expression or words seemed to have gotten through to the vampire, for Valkar’s eyes narrowed with resolve, and the flames encircling Cyrus died instantly, black smoke fizzling in the air.
He lifted Vesperin, carrying her far too delicately with one arm, her nose pressed into his neck, legs draped over his hips.
Cyrus snarled as the vampire walked closer, unable to tear his eyes away from his Soulbond in this monster’s arms.
Her skin was already pale, but now it was a deathly white shade. She was utterly limp.
Time seemed to slow as Valkar snapped his fingers before Cyrus, drawing his attention, and said, "Don’t make me regret this, incubus." And he fit a key into the manacles at his wrists, releasing him.
Cyrus pounced instantly, but not for Valkar; he reached for the girl in his arms, ripping her away from the vampire and holding her against him. He retreated until his back hit the wall, hair in his eyes as he hissed, "Don’t come near us."
Valkar placed a hand in his pocket, acting nonchalant, but his eyes were as wild as Cyrus felt. "What’s wrong with her?" The vampire’s tone was deadly.
Vesperin moaned weakly against Cyrus’s chest, and his eyes darted from the vampire back down to her, torn. "She’s going to die. Please, you have to—did you get her bag?" He suddenly remembered her medicine. Please, let this work. God.
"What are you—"
"Her goddamned bag! Did you get it from the motel?" Cyrus demanded.
Her heart kicked up again, pounding dangerously fast—then, just as suddenly, it turned sluggish.
Rhyden stared at Vesperin, then, before Cyrus could curse him out or beg on his knees, the vampire disappeared in a flash of darkness. Cyrus blinked, staring at the space Valkar had just been.
His hands tightened on Vesperin. Should he leave? Should he chance it?
Cyrus took one step forward, and Valkar returned as swiftly as he came. But this time, a familiar bag was in his hands—Vesperin’s.
The relief Cyrus felt was so sudden, his knees grew weak, and he sat on the concrete, lying Vesperin down carefully, her head on his lap.
Valkar stood on her other side, fingers tight on the bag’s strap.
Cyrus stared up at the vampire. "Please?"
Valkar released a rough breath, the bag dropping on the ground. Cyrus fumbled for the zipper and dug inside. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped the pill bottle. He wasn’t supposed to tremble like this—he was supposed to be strong for her. But he couldn’t lose her.
White pills spilled on the ground in a clatter—a splintering crack in the terse silence, like the sound of hope slipping through his fingers. He gripped Vesperin’s chin as he gently opened her mouth and placed a pill on her tongue, pinching her lips together.
How did he get her to swallow without choking?
Rhyden growled, shoving Cyrus’s hands off her.
The incubus looked up, a curse lingering on his lips, but the vampire only tipped her head back until the pale expanse of her throat was revealed.
Her pulse fluttered visibly as Valkar gripped the column of her throat, thumb running in a firm stroke down the front of her jugular. Rough but steady.
She gagged as she was forced to swallow. Valkar’s thumb roughly tugged down her lower lip as he peered into her mouth, finding the pill gone.
Cyrus shook as he held her. "Please, please," he prayed aloud, hoping someone, somewhere was listening.
He bowed his head over her, just missing the way the shadows seemed to stretch and yawn over the concrete floor, taking the undeniable shape of a man.
In the time Cyrus had been with Vesperin, he had seen her take two different pills. Her regular dose that helped keep her heart rate in check and work against the Nova ravaging her body—and on rarer occasions, the emergency pill that could quickly work to stop an attack.
Those were the pills Cyrus had forced down her throat.
Now, they just needed time to work.
Her heart slowed into a steady, quivering beat—no longer a harrowing gallop. Something within Cyrus rattled apart as he held her.
"She’ll be okay," he breathed, looking up to find Valkar staring at him already.
"You’re going to explain to me what the fuck just happened to her, and you’re going to do it now."
Cyrus’s lips parted. "You’re her Soulbond," he countered.
"I am. That’s why you’ll tell me, or I’ll kill you right here, right now.
I don’t care how important she thinks you are to her.
" Valkar lifted a hand, flames sparking at his fingertips as he called on his Stella.
Cyrus had never met a Fireborn before. They were rare; though, not as rare as Aetherborn.
The words brought a victorious smile to Cyrus’s lips. "You won’t kill me," he said.
"And why the fuck not?"
"I’m her Soulbond, too."
Rhyden sat in the medbay, the lamp on the table a soft yellow that chased away the shadows.
Vesperin lay on the bed, her blood-stained shirt swallowing her fragile frame. On the other side, the incubus sat, staring at the sleeping girl between them.
His words rattled in Rhyden’s skull like poison.
I’m her Soulbond, too.
Dammit.
Rhyden should’ve suspected. Of course she was. Someone as conniving as Vesperin Vox was bound to string along more than one Soulbond. He resisted the urge to ask the incubus if she fucked him over, too.
Her heart was steady—for now. But Rhyden didn’t think he’d ever forget the sound of it failing.
"Tell me," he ordered the incubus.
Rhyden hadn’t expected an answer, but he did.
With their shared Soulbond lying between them, Cyrus holding her hand and Rhyden staring at her closed eyes and wondering of their grey shade, he was told everything.
Starting hundreds of years ago, when a prince met a human slave, falling in love, finding sanctuary in a hidden cottage by the sea, holding her cold, lifeless body for hours, hoping she’d awaken. All leading to a fateful night in a club. Forget You Not.
As Cyrus revealed why she looked different in this life, Rhyden felt the sharp sting of vengeful jealousy twist in his chest. She truly had no memory of what she’d done to him—not a flicker. In this, at least, she had spoken the truth.
Somehow, everything and nothing had changed.
Rin woke up to find two males staring down at her.
She pressed a weak hand to her chest, feeling the ache in her limbs that spoke of an episode. She lifted her head, taking in the dimly lit room, concrete and stone walls pressed close, reminding her where she was.
"Get away from me," Rin gasped, scooting back against the pillows, only for a catch in her chest to make her jolt and freeze up.
Rhyden Valkar sat beside her, red eyes piercing in the dim light. A lamp was beside him. Silver rings shone on his fingers as he twirled a bloodied hairpin with expertise.
"Ves, it’s okay," Cyrus said from her other side. The incubus was half-lying against the bed, his elbows pressed near her hip, indenting the mattress. He took her hand, where it was twisted in the blanket, and brought it up to his mouth, running his nose along her pulse point and up to her palm.
Her breath caught as his lips skimmed over her sensitive flesh, and her eyes found Valkar, where he hadn’t looked away from her.
The vampiric leader of Noctis did nothing but watch her, however—he made no move to hurt or threaten her, or imprison her once more. His shoulders were rigid, yet his hands were loose as the hairpin twirled in between his long, surprisingly elegant fingers.