Chapter 19 Taste the Blood
Taste the Blood
Killian crouched low on his AirWave, racing just inches above the cobblestone.
He could’ve walked, could’ve strolled leisurely down Waterware Street to his destination, but something in him was itching to feel the wind in his face.
He dodged women carrying shopping bags and dryads trimming trees, closing his eyes as he breathed in the salt lingering in the air.
He hopped off his board, leaning it against the wall, and walked into Celestial Steel.
Despite the midday sun peeking from behind the clouds, the ceiling of the shop was covered in stars burning brightly against an onyx sky. Killian stuffed his hands in his pockets, naming the constellations in his head as he stared at the ceiling.
“You’re early, Mr. Vargr,” Cormac said, as he walked in from a back room. “I didn’t expect you until Saturday at the earliest.”
Killian shrugged with a small grin. “I had some extra time and thought I’d see if they were ready.”
Cormac gave a knowing smile and pulled a small box out from behind the counter, twirling it in his hands. “Finished them last night,” he said, as he laid it on the counter and pushed it toward Killian, “I must say, I don’t think I’ve ever molded a setting quite like that.”
Killian opened the lid and grinned, then quickly snapped it closed and stuffed the small box in his pocket. He handed Cormac a few silver coins and waited as the man counted them.
“Mind if I ask who they’re for?” Cormac asked, as he popped open a box and dropped the coins in.
Killian grinned as he stuffed a hand in his pocket. “They’re for a friend’s birthday,” he replied. “It’s a bit late, but I thought they would be nice.”
“Would it happen to be that girl I see you running around town with? You and Fenrir?”
Killian nodded with a small smile. “Ember.” He breathed her name like it was an enchantment. Saying it out loud gave him goosebumps.
“Ah, yes,” Cormac nodded, “Ember Lothbrok, the Kitts’ girl?”
Killian’s grin faded slightly. “She’s back with her mum now actually,” he replied, “but yes, that’s her.”
Cormac looked toward the ceiling, like he was thinking very hard about something.
“Well, wish her a happy birthday for me,” he said finally, “and tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t fix the spell on her ring unfortunately, but I hope it’s holding up well.”
Killian furrowed his brow and nodded. “Sure,” he replied and walked out the door. He thought about turning around to ask what spell was on her ring, but the weight in his pocket reminded him that he had things to do.
He patted his pocket one last time, making sure the box was still safe inside, and hopped on his AirWave to head home.
He could’ve taken the Echopoint and saved a ton of time, but there was something freeing about feeling the air high above the island kiss his cheeks as he sped through the low hanging clouds.
He landed on the balcony outside of his room, not bothering to go through the front door.
He swung the door open, leaning his AirWave against the wall, and pulled the little box from his pocket, placing it gently on the desk beside him.
He pulled out the chair, sitting down to get to work, pouring over the book still open on the top of his desk.
He opened the box, mumbling spells against the cold metal when his bedroom door swung open.
Killian didn’t bother to look up as Rafe walked in, leaning against the side of his desk and snatching the small box out of his reach.
“Who’s this for, little brother?” He grinned as he tossed it in the air. “Have yourself a mot I don’t know about?”
Killian made to snatch it from his hand but missed as he yanked it above his head.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Killian hissed, as he narrowed his eyes, “and even if she was, why would I tell you?” He huffed as he tried to grab the box again, but his brother yanked it further away. “What do you want, Rafe?”
“Da’ says Uncle Malcom is coming by tonight.” He grinned as he tossed the box into his brother’s hands. “He wants you to come to the meeting.”
Killian rolled his eyes. “My answer is the same as it has been,” he almost growled. “I don’t want anything to do with them or their dark dealings.”
“You can only run from them for so long you know,” Rafe replied, as his face grew serious.
“Eventually, they’re going to find something that you love so desperately that you would do anything to protect it.
They’ll latch onto that, dig their claws in, and make you taste the blood.
You can’t hide from who you are forever.
” He spoke like he had felt it—like the loss of something he loved rattled around inside of him.
Killian felt the wolf under his skin scratch, clawing against his bones for an escape. He wanted to run, wanted to shed his human skin and sprint deep into the woods, anything to escape this house for just a moment.
When he was little, the change was something he couldn’t control.
Every time he got upset about dinner or something his father had said or hearing the way his knuckles cracked against his mother’s jaw, the wolf would claw its way out, ripping open his skin and shredding him from the inside out.
He thought he had died the first time—truly thought he was dead and in Hel—until his mother’s soft voice brought him back.
The way she rubbed his head and sang him her lullaby rippled in his veins until he was just a little boy again, curled in his mother’s lap while she sang blessings against his hair.
He had learned to control the wolf now, learn how to cage it in and only release it when he wanted to, but there were still moments when the control was hard. There were moments when he felt it brush up against his ribs, inside his chest, searching for a weak point to break free.
He took a steady breath as he narrowed his eyes at his brother.
“You can tell our uncle and father,” he spat, “that I won’t be attending.
” He turned his head and continued his work, not paying his brother any mind as he walked out the bedroom door, closing it quietly behind him.
Killian sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.
They would not get to him the way they had Rafe, the way they surely would to Lief. Not if he had anything to say about it.