Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DECLAN/ DONOVAN
DECLAN
The evening sky stretched above us in a canvas of deep indigo and burnt orange. Lanterns flickered around the training yard.
The scent of pine and earth hung heavy in the cool air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of sweat and steel.
I shifted my stance, gripping the wooden training sword loosely in my hand as Lena circled me, her eyes sharp and calculating.
Six months ago, she would have charged in blindly, all force and no finesse.
But now? She was patient. Learning. I could see the way she measured my movements, waiting for an opening. Good.
The other young men and women stood in a loose ring around us, murmuring to one another, their weapons gripped tight.
They were all improving. Faster, stronger, more disciplined. Lena feinted to the left. I saw it coming. Easily sidestepped—
Crack.
Pain flared against my ribs as her wooden blade connected. Not a deep blow, but a clean one. The yard fell silent for a split second, then erupted into cheers.
I blinked, then let out a short laugh, touching the spot where she’d hit me. “Not bad.”
Lena’s face was flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You always say to take the opening.”
“And you did.” I inclined my head in approval. “That’s how you survive.”
A grin spread across her lips, and the pride in her expression was unmistakable. The others clapped her on the back, their excitement renewed.
We trained for another hour, the rhythmic clash of wood against wood filling the air. They were getting better, and not just at combat.
They were growing into themselves, stronger, surer. Warriors in their own right.
By the time I called it for the night, the yard was filled with heavy breaths and satisfied exhaustion.
I ran a hand through my damp hair, already looking forward to a shower when I caught a familiar figure leaning against one of the wooden posts near the entrance.
Donovan.
The torchlight flickered over his face, catching in his eyes, his lips curved in an easy smirk.
He looked good, standing there like that. Like he belonged here, like we belonged here.
“Good work,” he said, his voice warm in the crisp night air.
I rolled my shoulders. “They’re improving.”
He glanced at Lena, who was still beaming.
“I can tell.” His eyes returned to me, softer now. “Dinner’s ready.”
I exhaled. “I’ll shower first. Be there in a bit.”
Donovan pushed off the post, closing the distance between us in a few slow steps. His fingers curled lightly around my chin, tilting my face up to his.
Then he kissed me. It was deliberate, lingering, like we had all the time in the world and we did. Even after all these months, it still made something inside me go weightless.
He pulled back with a smirk. “See you there.”
I watched him walk away before heading inside.
The shower was quick but necessary, hot water rolling over my skin, washing away the sweat and dust of training.
My mind wandered, as it often did these days, to the past six months.
We had taken down the rabid vampires. Kit and the Guild had vanished, slipping into silence like they never existed. And me?
I was still here.
When I became a vampire, I never expected to live this long. I never thought I’d be with Donovan. Never thought I’d have this. A life, a home, a place where I belonged.
But here I was. And for the first time, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder, waiting for it all to be ripped away.
Dressed and refreshed, I made my way to the dining hall, following the hum of voices and the rich scent of roasted meat and fresh bread.
The long wooden table was crowded, a mess of passing hands, clattering plates, and the warm hum of voices overlapping in easy conversation.
The scent of roasted meat, herbs, and fresh bread filled the air, mixing with the smoky crackle of the firepit.
Laughter rang out every now and then, loud and unguarded, like no one here had to watch their backs, like danger wasn’t something that lurked just beyond the treeline.
I sat among them, listening more than speaking, my fingers curled loosely around a wooden cup.
It wasn’t filled with anything I could drink, but I held it anyway, more for the illusion of normalcy than anything else.
At first, I hadn’t thought I’d fit in here.
The sparrow shifters had taken to Donovan immediately. He was human, after all. One of them, in a way.
He could eat their food, drink their ale, and laugh at their stories without hesitation. Me? I was undead.
Something most shifters would rather see turned to ash than seated at their table.
And at the beginning, I felt it.
The way their eyes lingered just a little too long. The way their conversations slowed when I approached.
The instinctive stiffness in their postures, like their bodies remembered a time when a vampire’s presence only meant death.
But time had softened those edges.
I’d fought beside them. Bled for them. Protected their home when no one else would.
And now, as I sat here, shoulder to shoulder with them, their laughter echoing around me, it no longer mattered that I was a vampire.
Jonas sat across from me, tearing a piece of bread in half before tossing one side onto my plate. His sharp, knowing gaze met mine, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“You look like you’re thinking too much,” he said.
I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Just… taking it all in.”
He smirked. “Try taking in some food while you’re at it. Even if you don’t eat, at least make it look like you do.”
I rolled my eyes but picked up the bread anyway, breaking off a piece just to humor him.
Donovan caught my eye, a small smile tugging at his lips. He knew me too well, knew exactly what was going through my head.
This was acceptance.
Something I hadn’t realized I wanted until I had it.
Lena sat in the middle of the halll, eyes bright as she recounted our sparring match. “—and then I got him! Right in the ribs!”
A chorus of impressed murmurs met her words, and I smirked as I slid into my usual seat.
Donovan leaned into me, resting his head against my shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe now, it was.
I wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.
DONOVAN
The dim glow of the laptop screen was the only source of light in the cabin. The night outside was quiet.
I sat at the worn oak table, my fingers moving over the keyboard, checking through old email accounts out of habit.
It had been a year.
A year since the battle in the woods, since the last of the rabid vampires had fallen, since the Guild had vanished into silence.
A year of stolen breaths, of cautious hope, of trying to believe we’d finally outrun the past.
A year of peace.
But peace could be deceiving.
The Guild had gone dark after Kit made his choice, but silence wasn’t the same as surrender. We both knew that.
Then I saw it.
An email from Finn. My breath caught in my throat. For a moment, I couldn’t think, couldn’t move.
The world around me shrank, the text on the screen blurring as my heart pounded so loud it drowned out everything else.
I barely registered the sound of footsteps before a warm hand squeezed mine, grounding me.
“What is it?” Declan’s voice was low, cautious.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “An email… from Finn,” I whispered.
Declan’s eyes flicked to the screen, sharp and assessing. “It could be a trap.”
My thoughts were already spiraling in that direction. A year of silence, and now this? Just an email, sitting there, waiting to be read. It was too easy.
“It could be,” Declan acknowledged. “Or there’s a small chance it isn’t—and it’s actually from your brother.”
I hesitated. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I clicked the email. My eyes darted over the words, my breath hitching as I read Finn’s message aloud:
"Donovan, I should’ve written this earlier, but I kept putting it off.
I don’t know if this will even reach you, but I need you to know.
I’m alive. And I’m happy. I found my mate, and I have a life now, one I never thought I’d have.
You don’t need to worry about me, but I hope… someday, we can meet again."
"I sent a similar email to Asher. I hope he’s alive too. If you ever find him, tell him I said to take care of himself."
Silence stretched between us as I leaned back in my chair, shaken. He mentioned Asher.
Declan’s gaze darkened, his expression unreadable. “Both your brothers might still be alive,” he finally said.
That meant—
“Asher wasn’t killed off by Gael,” I murmured, my stomach twisting.
Declan’s jaw tightened. I knew how he felt about Gael.
There was no love lost between them, and the idea that Gael hadn’t finished the job… that Asher might still be out there somewhere… That changed everything.
“What do you want to do?” Declan asked, his voice careful, controlled.
I stared at the email, my mind a warzone of logic and emotion. My instincts screamed caution. This could be a carefully laid-out trap, bait to draw me out.
But my heart, that stubborn, reckless part of me, wanted to believe it.
“I keep thinking it’s some elaborate trap set up by the Guild,” I admitted, voice rough. “But… my heart tells me it isn’t.”
Declan didn’t hesitate. He reached out, squeezing my hand again. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”
The weight of those words settled deep in my chest, grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. I stood, closing the laptop with a quiet snap.
Declan watched me, steady as ever. I cupped his face, brushing my thumb along his jaw before pulling him into a slow, deliberate kiss.
He responded immediately, warm and familiar, a solid presence in the storm of my thoughts.
When I pulled back, my lips barely parted from his, I murmured, “I know.”