56. Rafael
I was fighting the urge to make her feel better. To take away the hurt that filled the car, thick and heavy, like a physical manifestation of her pain and fear. Every instinct in me wanted to reach for it. To make it stop. But I forced myself to stay still.
She’d asked me not to.
And I would never do anything to break the bond slowly solidifying between us. It wasn’t fully formed yet—not until my beast bit her—but it was growing in ways I hadn’t expected.
‘We will claim her soon.’
The certainty in him made my grip on the steering wheel tighten. He didn’t mean it as a threat or a demand. It was instinct. A promise.
My mouth filled with the venom needed to fully claim her as mine.
She doesn’t even know you exist yet.
‘Tell her.’
I fought back a growl. I wasn’t going to do anything that pushed her further away from the hive. Especially not now. Not when she’d just confessed her love for me. She wasn’t ready for another truth dropped on her like a weapon.
Guilt hit me sharp and sudden.
I hated that she didn’t know everything. About us. About herself. But I couldn’t just blurt out something that might tip her over the edge and send her running. She’d just had a panic attack. She wasn’t ready for more life-altering news.
Not right now.
I wanted to ask where she’d gone when she pulled that knife on Nik. The way her eyes had gone distant, like she’d vanished somewhere into her own mind—kind of like she was doing now.
I chanced a quick glance at her in the passenger seat.
She stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the passing city buildings, but she wasn’t really seeing them.
The bond hummed low between us, carrying fragments of what she felt.
Confusion. Hurt. That sharp, aching sense of being unwanted that made my jaw clench.
She didn’t know how wrong she was.
Her hands balled into fists in her lap. Maybe I should give the knife back. I still had it in my pocket. She never went anywhere without it. And I didn’t blame her. She had a lot to fear. Her past. The rogue. Us. I couldn’t fault her for wanting to protect herself.
And if I was being honest, part of me agreed with Nik.
She should run.
Vampires were impulsive. Instinct-driven. Too easily pushed past their limits—especially where something as fragile as a human was concerned. A blood mate at that.
She deserved better. She deserved care. Delicacy. And if I was being honest, I wasn’t the one who should tell her. I wasn’t good with words.
But for her, I would try.
And that started with my art. It said more than I ever could.
I hadn’t planned on taking her to my art studio.
It wasn’t something I shared. Not with the hive.
Not with anyone. The room I kept at the house was enough for casual work—pieces I didn’t care about being seen or tied to a current project.
The studio was different. It was where I bled my own emotions I didn’t allow anyone else to witness.
And as the silence stretched and her pain pressed harder against my ribs, the decision settled in me with quiet finality. Words were going to fail me. They always did. I’d never been good at explaining myself, at untangling the mess in my head without sounding rough or wrong.
Maybe she wouldn’t need explanations if I showed her instead. I had an entire wall dedicated to her alone and I’d never intended for her to see it. None of it had been created for an audience. It was something between my hands and my bear and the pull I couldn’t escape.
But there were other paintings too. Older ones. The past laid bare in thick strokes and brutal honesty. Things I didn’t talk about. Maybe she would understand if she saw all of it.
Traffic thickened as we moved deeper into Ash Harbor. I hadn’t been uptown in a while. Not since the rogue threat had forced me to stay close to the hive’s territory. The familiar route made my stomach twist. The closer we got, the more uneasy I became.
What if she hated it? What if she mistook devotion for obsession and it confirmed every fear already clawing through her chest? What if this was the thing that finally pushed her away?
Anxiety crept through my senses, sharp and invasive.
I side-eyed Sina again. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers worrying at the edge of her sleeve. Through the bond, her emotions pressed against me in uneven waves. Hurt. Uncertainty. That hollow, sinking feeling that came after learning something life-changing.
It made my jaw tighten.
I shifted my grip on the wheel, grounding myself, forcing my focus back to the road before my bear did something reckless—like claim her fully and rip every doubt from her head about who she belonged to.
“Do you want to ask me anything, honey? I want to make this better. Easier on you. I just don’t know how to do that without—” I stopped myself before I crossed the line.
The ability pulsed under my skin, eager and sharp. Not using it took more restraint than I’d expected. My bear didn’t understand the hesitation. He felt her pain and wanted it gone.
Simple and effective.
She glanced at me, then away again just as quickly .
“Do you really think I’m not safe with the hive? Like Nik said. Did I push him too far, Rafe? I don’t want to be the reason your hive crumbles.”
I kept my eyes on the road. My bear pushed hard, demanding I fix it, demanding certainty I didn’t have.
“I can’t answer whether you pushed him too far, sweetheart.” The truth tasted rough on my tongue. “That isn’t something I get to decide.”
Her emotions flared. Fear .
I grit my teeth.
“What is your gut telling you?” I glanced at her, then back to the road. “Do you think staying with the hive is what you want, Sina?”
I hated the question the moment it left me. Because if she said no—if she wanted to run—I already knew what I’d do. I would let her go. My bear roared in rage at my resolve. My nails lengthened with his power.
“My gut is telling me that you and the hive are home for me,” she admitted. My chest loosened, the rage bleeding out of my bones as my bear settled. “ I want this. More than anything.”
I eased to the curb and cut the engine. Silence dropped around us. A small brick building sat in front of us, ivy climbing one corner.
“I’m glad you want to stay.”
She smiled, small and unsure.
I took her hand and pressed my mouth to her knuckles. She was still shaking. The fear in her hadn’t eased.
“What are you afraid of? What can I do to make you feel safe?”
She shook her head. “I’m not afraid. Not like that.”
“Then why are you shaking, honey?”
“Nik. When he told me what he did. It broke something in me. I saw the pain there. The mistake that still owns him. And all I wanted was to fix it.” Her shoulders lifted, then fell.
“I think letting him walk away was my mistake. He probably thinks I hate him.” She paused, glancing out the window. “I should hate him. But I don’t.”
Green eyes met mine. “I just wish I’d told him it didn’t matter. I don’t want him thinking I ran from him. He punishes himself enough.”
I understood.
It was why I went on a run with him every morning since I met Sina. Helped him burn off his wolf’s excess energy. But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I gestured toward the small brick building I’d purchased years ago.
Her gaze lifted, taking it in. Confusion flickered across her face. “Where are we?”
“Come on. I want to show you something.” I stepped out and opened her door, offering my hand.
Once inside, I flicked on the main light, letting the space come into focus. The scent of paint cut through the air, sharp and familiar. She took a tentative step forward, eyes lifting as she took in the space.
“Wow, Rafe. What is this place?”
“My art studio.”
She glanced back at me, brows rising. “You painted all of these?”
I nodded.
She turned back to the walls, moving more slowly now. The paintings weren’t arranged neatly. Some were framed, others weren’t. Canvases were stacked and leaned against the brick walls. She stopped at one pile and carefully thumbed through it. Most were of Ash Harbor.
“These are beautiful, Rafe. You’re very talented.”
I dipped my head to hide my blush. I wasn’t used to praise, especially coming from her. Having her in my space made me more nervous than I’d anticipated. And we hadn’t reached the wall yet.
The one that was only of her .
She stopped in front of a row of canvases on the far left wall.
My shoulders tensed as she took in the dark slashes of red cutting through gray.
Each one told part of the story of my Change.
She walked slowly along the wall, studying the blurred streaks of buildings, the flashes of red and blue lights smeared into motion.
“Is that… an ambulance?”
“I was an EMT in my human life.”
She glanced up at me, brows pinched in a way that made something warm twist in my chest. “Even then, you were a healer. It’s fitting.”
She turned back to the painting, but her scent shifted—sharp and sour with sadness.
“An EMT saved my life once.”
My attention sharpened immediately.
She drew in a shaky breath.
“Four years ago.” Her fingers brushed the edge of the canvas. “My husband liked to use fear as a tactic to keep me in line. One night he let Keith have me.”
The words slammed into me. My hands curled into fists at my sides before I could stop them.
My bear surged up inside my chest, a low violent growl vibrating through my bones.
The man who did that to her would die screaming.
At least the husband was dead, because if he wasn't, I would slaughter him too for not protecting something as precious as Sina.
She glanced back at me with a watery smile like she’d just told me something mildly inconvenient instead of shattering the air between us.
“What happened?” I asked.
Her gaze drifted away again like she couldn’t look at me as she shared her darkness with me.
“I woke up the next morning. The condom he used was still inside me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper .
She shivered slightly at the memories.
My vision went red. I shook with my effort to keep my beast at bay.
“No matter how hard I tried… I couldn’t scrub away his touch.” Her fingers trembled where they rested against the canvas. “I just wanted everything to stop.”
Suddenly the panic attack in the kitchen made perfect sense. The knife. The way she’d turned it toward her own wrist. The helplessness that had rolled off her through the bond.
I stepped closer before I even realized I was moving.
My thumb brushed the pale scar on her wrist. The mark that meant she had died.
The mark that meant she was mine. Bitterness curled in my chest at the realization that the reason her blood called to my bear was because of the man who should have protected her.
My bear snarled.
I slid my hand gently around her wrist, careful not to grip too tightly.
“I will never let him touch you again, Sina. I’ll kill Keith, I swear it to you.” The dark promise left my mouth before I could stop it.
She gave me another small, fragile smile. Then she turned toward the next canvas.
A silhouette of a woman.
My heart began to pound. The colors were muted and blurred, just like the ones before it. Sina moved to the next painting, where the woman lay in a deep red pool.
“You painted her death? Why?”
“It’s… Clarissa.”
Surprise crossed her face. “You were there that night?”
“I was the first one on the scene. She was alive when I arrived.” My jaw tightened. “I couldn’t save her.”
Sina swallowed thickly, her eyes searching mine .
She looked back at the painting, then at the next one in the row. The same night. The same colors. Different angles. In every version, the woman was fading. The strokes grew looser, the colors more washed out.
And in every one, the red was heavier. Darker.
“You painted her more than once.”
“I tend to do that. It’s a way to… expel the emotions of others when they get too heavy.”
Her gaze flicked to me, then back to the wall.
“I was an empath even before the Change. I didn’t have a name for it then. I just felt people. Some emotions are louder than others. Fear. Pain. Panic. And that night stayed with me long after the sirens faded.”
She studied the canvases again, seeing them differently now.
Not art. A record. The colors shifted darker farther down the wall.
The shapes grew less human. One canvas was almost violent with motion—jagged strokes, red tearing through black.
Another showed a figure twisted between forms, limbs too long, mouth open in a soundless scream.
Or a howl. Nik’s haunting howl tore through my memory.
“What happened that night?”
The next canvas loomed ahead of us—a wolf tearing down a city street, a massive building rising behind it, windows blurred like they were screaming too.
“I felt Nik before I saw him. His grief hit first. Then the rage. I could feel him losing himself before I ever saw him in the dark. The moment he went feral. The moment he started attacking the onlookers.”
Her shoulders drew in, the bond humming low with her reaction.
“A wolf?” she asked, stepping closer. “You painted Nik as a wolf? Is that symbolic?"
My bear surged hard enough to make me stagger.
‘Tell her! ’
The roar cracked through my skull, heavy with command and instinct. I flinched, pain spiking behind my eyes as his power pressed forward—impatient, absolute.
I dragged in a breath, forcing him back.
“Because… that’s what he was,” I said, my voice rough with a partial truth. “Trapped in a body that couldn’t hold what he was anymore. Running on instinct. Hunger. Rage.”
She didn’t look away from the canvas.
“That’s the change. Mine.”
She stopped in front of it, breath shallow. “Nik changed you?”
“He attacked me when I tried to approach him, he was so close to being feral. He hadn’t meant to kill Clarissa. I felt his regret almost immediately. As soon as he tasted my blood, his control snapped back to him.”
The image rose unbidden—Nik shifting from beast to man.
Her head turned slowly. “Your blood stopped him?”
I nodded. “I anchored him. Even as he was tearing the city apart, my ability pulled him back from the edge. When it was over, he gave me a choice.”
She didn’t interrupt.
“He could’ve healed me. Let me go back to my life.” My eyes stayed on the canvas. “Instead, he turned me.”
Silence pressed in, thick and heavy.
“Why would you choose a life of being a vampire?”
“Because he needed me. His hive needed me. I felt how desperate he was. When he told me my ability could help anchor others like him, I couldn’t refuse. It felt like my purpose.”
She reached out then, her fingers brushing my forearm.
“Nik felt like home to you too.”
I nodded “Yes. For the last fifty years. ”
I pulled her into my arms and buried my nose in her hair, inhaling that sweet scent I’d come to love. I lifted her chin, forcing myself to look at her even though the truth left me exposed.
“Now I know it’s you. My home is you. And I can’t live without you.”